Darkness Arises: Reborn
by Metal Harbinger
Summary: An updated version of the original, Jake Cavanaugh visits Raccoon City to perform what should be a simple hit, but instead finds himself in the middle of a nightmare come to life.
1. Prologue: The Assignment

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: As I've promised, this is going to be the rewrite for my smash hit (if you wish to call it that) "Darkness Arises," which I hope to make bigger and better than before, don't know so much about the "bigger" part just yet, but at least hopefully more refined than before.

As it was with the original version I am open only to constructive criticism! If you're going to be a dick and can't say anything positive or helpful, then move along because you've got nothing to see here. I am here on this site to have fun and learn new things I need to improve as a writer, as should everybody else who comes on here.

For a last minute legal disclaimer, I do not own Resident Evil nor do I own any of its characters, monsters, locations, etc. They are the property of Capcom and any similarities to real-life individuals, places, events, etc. are purely coincidental and not in any way intentional.

Also as shown in the opening of any Resident Evil game, this fic will contain scenes of explicit violence and gore, as well as strong language. Viewer discretion is advised.

Before I go any further I also wish to give a special thanks to Crow T Rob0t for volunteering to be my beta reader this time around and helping make it more badass than before.

Anyways, that's the end of my rant. As always read and review! Now on with the re-launch of Darkness Arises! Correction, it is REBORN!

Prologue: The Assignment

RIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGG!!! RIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGG!!!

A ringing phone permeated the silent atmosphere of the small apartment, followed by the labored grunts of its lone occupant.

A loud grunt emanated from the large bed and a massive figure tossed and turned several times to stir himself awake before he finally reached a muscular arm over to grab the cordless phone on his nearby nightstand and nearly knocked it to the carpeted floor below. With the phone firmly in his grasp he switched it on, letting out a long, tortured sigh before he spoke.

"Hello…"

"Hello Mr. Cavanaugh, it is a pleasure to finally speak to you," an icy voice boomed from the other end.

"What?" the man sat up in shock. He was now wide awake.

"Who are you and how the hell did you get this number?" Jake Cavanaugh growled as he swung his long legs over and placed his bare feet on the carpet. "More importantly, how the hell do you know my name?" he added clenching the phone tighter and wanting to strangle the mysterious individual on the other end.

"I know much about you Mr. Jacob Cavanaugh, or should I call you 'The Red Dragon' as your previous associates have called you," the man chuckled arrogantly.

Jake seethed in anger. Being woken up by a mysterious individual who seemingly knew him from out of nowhere was not the ideal way to start the day.

"Alright, who the hell is this? Are you a pig? If you are, I will track you down and then I'll rip your head off and shit down your fucking neck!" he snarled viciously. Using his free hand he reached for the Beretta 9mm. he always kept hidden underneath his pillow when he slept. The gun was fully loaded and in good working condition. If his phone line was tapped and the police were nearby waiting to ambush him, he would be prepared.

"My, my Mr. Cavanaugh, I knew you had quite the temper, but seriously is this any way to greet someone who comes bearing a generous offer?" the caller chimed, unafraid of the young man's rage.

"What offer? For all I know you're probably just some nameless schmuck with a death wish who'll use me and then try jacking me from behind when I least expect it!" Stepping towards the lone curtained window he gently pushed it aside and peered out what little space he had, searching the adjoining buildings and rooftops for any suspicious looking characters, but could find nobody else afoot in the early morning hours. "Believe me, you wouldn't be the first either!"

"Calm down my friend, I do not wish to harm you in any way. Like I just said, I'm here to make you an offer that could make you a very wealthy man," the caller continued.

Jake had heard that line before, both on Mafia movies and in person where the powerful Mafia don would try to make some nobody underling an offer he supposedly could not refuse and then leave him lying in a pool of his own blood afterward. For now he would play dumb and listen to what this fellow had to say.

"Go on!" he ordered lowering his head. Whatever this man had planned he hoped he would be too smart to fall for it.

"Thank you. Now as I have just stated, I am prepared to make you an offer that could make you a very wealthy man. I'm sure that you have heard about an incident that took place in Minnesota's Arklay Mountains back in late July, involving an explosion at the Spencer Estate, am I correct?"

Jake knew right away what the man was talking about.

Throughout the summer the small Midwestern metropolis of Raccoon City had been receiving tons of media attention after a series of brutal and bizarre "cannibal murders" had been reported throughout the surrounding forests. At first, the murders had been attributed to random wild animal attacks, but soon would be proven to be the work of cannibals, prompting the Raccoon City Police Department to mobilize its elite Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, or S.T.A.R.S. for short.

Little is known of what actually happened on the night of July 24, 1998, but when the night ended the Spencer Estate had been decimated and only five of the original thirteen S.T.A.R.S. members came out alive. They reported having encountered outlandish creatures such as zombies, green reptilian creatures, large spiders and other monstrosities and that some corrupt corporation was behind everything. All that was known afterwards was that the S.T.A.R.S. unit had been suspended indefinitely. The exact fate of the members themselves was unknown.

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about…" Jake replied "…so what does this have to do with me?"

"I'm glad you asked Mr. Cavanaugh and now we will get down to business. The incident at the mansion was caused by a viral outbreak. One of the main men behind the incident was a top-ranking scientist named William Birkin."

William Birkin. Jake had no clue whom that particular individual was, but he knew right away this so-called offer he was receiving would revolve around this man and he knew that he would have to pay attention to what this mysterious individual had to say about him.

"Alright, so where does this William Birkin fellow come into play?" he asked with great interest.

"Dr. Birkin is a top-ranking scientist with an international pharmaceutical conglomerate, known to the world as Umbrella Incorporated. I'm sure you are familiar with them as well."

Who wasn't familiar with the Umbrella Corporation? They were always in the national headlines in some way or another. Stories of their recent successes in the medical research field had been all over the news. Not only that, the company also had a hand in a series of other fields as well, such as computer software, beauty products, robotics and numerous other ventures that would practically put them in a high position wherever they chose to set up shop.

The man continued with his speech, "As of late, Dr. Birkin has been working on several top secret projects for Umbrella, mainly dealing with biological and chemical weapons."

Umbrella involved with chemical warfare? Now that was something new to him and had further piqued his interest.

"From what we know, the man is becoming increasingly paranoid. It has been figured for quite some time now that he has been using the company's equipment and funding to work on his own individual projects without the knowledge or approval of his immediate superiors. We believe he now suspects someone is on to him and fears that the corporation is trying to steal his research right out from underneath him. It is further thought that he may go public with his findings, or try keeping it to himself and possibly sell it to the highest bidder. Either way, it would be bad for business and we cannot have that. This is where you will come into play my friend."

_"So what was Billy B. going to do with this pet project of his if he wasn't giving it to Umbrella?" _Jake thought to himself, _"It would be like inventing the light bulb, turning it on and cackling over its glow in a room by yourself."_

"Okay, I'm listening…" he said easing himself back towards the bed never taking his eyes away from the window.

_"Just who does this guy think he is? Is he some pencil pusher for Umbrella?" _Jake mentally asked himself.

"Mr. Cavanaugh, I want you to eliminate William Birkin," the man said, slightly raising his tone, "You must get rid of that man by any means necessary. He has become too much of a nuisance for our liking and having read upon your track record we know you are the man for the job. I don't care what you have to do, if you have to shoot him, stab him, bludgeon him, run him over or even poison him, I want him dead. Kill anybody else that gets in your way too, we can't risk having any witnesses."

_"So my reputation precedes me? I'm touched," _Jake thought with a great deal of sarcasm. He then spoke aloud, "How much will I be paid for this job?"

"Ten million dollars," the man replied.

Ten million dollars, now that was a lot of money. Indeed it was a tempting offer, but he could not allow himself to be distracted by such a great dollar amount. He had no idea who this man was and he knew mysterious types like this always had some kind of ulterior motive in mind. Would he be sincere in following through with the promised reward? If this man had anything else planned, then so help him he had better come prepared because the Red Dragon would personally hunt him down and make him pay for his stupidity.

Jake paused before replying knowing he had to be careful, "Alright…I'll do it!" he spoke, "I'm warning you, if you are playing me then so help me God I will track you down and kill you along with this Birkin shithead!" he growled, his voice adopting a gravelly tone as it lowered.

There was a brief pause before the man spoke, almost as if Jake's threats were beginning to sink in. "I'm glad to hear it. I totally understand your concerns Mr. Cavanaugh and I assure you that this is the only job I will ask of you to perform. You will be paid handsomely for this job and then you will be able to move on as if I never even acknowledged your presence. Right now as I speak, an envelope is being delivered to your doorstep. It contains information regarding your mission and it will also contain some items you will need in this assignment."

_"What? This bastard knows where I live too?" _Jake's mind suddenly raced as he listened for any sounds from the hallway.

"I wish you good luck Mr. Cavanaugh and happy hunting!"

With those words the line went dead leaving no time to respond. The young man made a quick dash for the front door with his gun raised.

Hugging the wall to the immediate right of his front door, Jake put his ear to the wall listening for movement. Clenching onto his gun for dear life, the sound of heavy footsteps pounding on the floor outside at a rapid pace made his whole body tense up. Lowering into a combat position, he listened as they advanced further and further until they were directly in front of his door and the sound of a heavy envelope being dropped reached his ears. Slowly and quietly turning the doorknob he pulled the door open and stepped into the hall with weapon drawn.

"Got you now!" he cried hoping to surprise his so-called "visitor," only to leap back in stunned silence.

"What?" he half-shouted standing in the quiet hallway. He peered through the dimly-lit hallway searching for any possible intruders only to find some heavily-tattooed biker and a young couple, all of whom had their hands raised above their heads with looks of fear etched upon their faces as they noticed the handgun.

Cursing quietly to himself, he looked down to find a manila envelope that appeared to have no return address and no visible markings of any kind. Quickly snatching it up he slammed the door shut behind him before he could attract any more unwanted attention and then locked it, staring through the peephole a few minutes before taking a deep breath and stepping back.

Already this was getting too freakish to comprehend and he was beginning to find himself wanting to get the assignment done and over with.

"I'm going to find out what this shit is all about," Jake said as he walked across his small living room and collapsed onto an old couch. He opened the envelope and spilled its contents onto a coffee table, finding a series of letters, memos, maps and photographs, along with a red and black ID card belonging to Umbrella, Inc.

_"Obviously in case I have to sneak around one of their facilities to find this chump," _he thought to himself as he closely studied a photo of the man who was his target William Birkin, a scrawny scientist with shaggy blonde hair. Sifting through the rest of the documents he would spend the next hour learning more about the inner workings of Umbrella, Inc., the supposed "real story" behind the Spencer Estate incident, Raccoon City itself, the S.T.A.R.S. team and Birkin himself.

_"Damn, this whole deal sounds like one heavy duty case. Might not be as much of a walk in the park as I thought it would be. With this guy being a top scientist for Umbrella I know I'd probably have quite a few people gunning for me if I took a shot at him in broad daylight. I'll have to sneak up on this guy somehow and take him out as quietly as I possibly can," _his mind said as he sat back in deep thought, _"If I'm lucky, maybe I could make it look accidental or like a suicide."_

After some brief moments in thought he went about his normal morning routine. He walked over to his small kitchen area and made himself a quick breakfast consisting of a glass of milk, bowl of cereal and a couple pieces of toast. As soon as he finished he washed his dishes and then went into his bathroom to take a shower, shave and then brush his teeth. He observed himself closely as he did.

Jake Cavanaugh was a fairly nice looking young man for his twenty four years. He stood six feet three inches tall and possessed a toned, muscular build that could easily intimidate many of his lesser enemies and even some of his more powerful foes. His face was fairly chiseled and he had dark bluish-gray eyes that often gave off a cold, unforgiving stare. Large black eyebrows were a dominant feature on his forehead that emphasized his cold stares, giving him a hypnotic, almost vampire-like gaze that could bewilder anybody who tried to start trouble with him, especially when he was in a bad mood. On his chin he had a small strip of neatly trimmed black hair making up a small goatee and his head was covered with short jet black hair he normally wore spiked up, which at the moment hung down nearly obscuring his eyes. The features that stood out the most about him were his tattoos.

On his upper right arm he had a large red dragon surrounded by flames, which many surmised alluded to his infamous moniker "The Red Dragon." On his upper left arm was a cracked skull with a bluish tint, blood red eyes and belching flames. Running across his shoulders was a mysterious tribal design with an unknown meaning, one that left many guessing its origin. On his lower leg was a large scorpion tattoo, one whose presence again baffled many. Finally on both forearms he had two different Chinese symbols each, their interpretations again a mystery. Were they meant to symbolize a part of his life? Were they meant to be a tribute to somebody? Did they serve as a metaphor? Their meanings were unknown to all except for the owner himself.

Setting down his toothbrush the young man mentally cursed himself again as he caught sight of a long, ugly scar that ran across his right collarbone and ended just at his sternum.

Every time he looked at that scar he felt both the physical and mental pain from the very night he had received it, so intense he almost collapsed and had to grasp the countertop just to steady himself.

_"Damn it, I did it again!"_

Tossing an extra towel over his head he guided himself out of the bathroom and then led himself back into his living area and over to his bedroom.

To call his bedroom a total mess was an understatement, it looked like a war zone.

His two person bed was always unkempt and his only cover was a single comforter that barely kept him warm some nights. The walls were covered in ugly green and gold patterned wallpaper that was peeling and exposed several holes underneath. The contrasting gray carpeting was filthy and covered in numerous kinds of stains, including blood, and at the moment was littered with empty soda cans and beer bottles, food wrappers, crumpled papers, discarded articles of clothing and a smelly week old pizza box. Other than his bed, his other furniture consisted of a small nightstand next to his bed with an alarm clock, cordless phone and a small lamp. His cellular phone also rested there and was still plugged into its charger. In the northeast corner of the room was a dinged up wardrobe that held his clothes and next to it was a large mirror.

Walking over to the wardrobe he quickly threw on a pair of boxers and socks before pulling out a Kevlar bulletproof vest and adjusting the straps before strapping it on. Next was a black t-shirt with an elaborate red dragon design that closely resembled the red dragon tattoo on his upper right arm, his favorite t-shirt. A pair of black cargo pants followed and then his favorite red, black and silver Cyke tennis shoes and lastly, a pair of black fingerless gloves he slid on and then threw a few practice punches in the air to psych himself up.

Reaching further into the wardrobe he grabbed a utility belt that had two holsters on it and several pouches for carrying miscellaneous objects and clipped it around his waist. More holsters would follow as he strapped on a harness around his shoulders that would enable him to carry an additional firearm and a couple grenades if need be, a shin holster concealed beneath his pant leg for carrying his combat knife and lastly a military-style side pack hanging from his side held in place by braces that went around his torso.

Getting on his hands and knees he reached under his bed and pulled out two wooden boxes and set them both onto his bed. He then went over to his nightstand and pulled out a set of keys for unlocking the boxes and first opened the smaller box.

Inside was an S&W Model 629 .44 Revolver, a powerful, intimidating handgun that he had always been fond of. Despite not having to have used it much, Jake still polished the gun constantly treating it with great care as if it were his own child. He knew the gun would probably seem like too much for one inept scientist, but also knew the man would probably have some form of backup if he was as "high-ranking" as the man made him out to be. In a small compartment beneath the gun were six speed loaders and he loaded them into the small compartments within his utility belt.

In the larger box was another personal favorite of his, the SPAS-12 Assault Shotgun, a rapid fire beast that came equipped with a foldable stock and shoulder strap. It had gotten him out of several sticky situations in the past and he regarded it as another trusted ally. Next to the gun were two full boxes of 12-gauge shells and he loaded eight shells into the mighty weapon, double checking to make sure the safety was still on. With the eight shells in his gun he was left with 32 additional and slipped them into his side pack. Slinging the gun over his shoulder he then grabbed his cell phone and favorite pair of Battle Eagle sunglasses before making his way back into the living room/kitchen area.

Setting his shotgun onto the coffee table he made his way over to a closet near the entrance. Hanging on an inside hook was a large black trench coat he had custom tailored so it had several concealed pockets on the inside for weapons, ammo and other important items and also a specially crafted holster that would enable him to hide his shotgun. Sliding the large coat on he would look twice as intimidating, like a true badass hit man ready to wreak some serious havoc.

Kneeling down he picked up a small shoebox and inside found an extra Beretta and military-style combat knife he would place in their respective holsters and then searched through another shoebox filled with ammo clips for both guns. Opting to leave some extra ammo behind, he loaded up on three clips for each gun. Pulling an old duffel bag from the closet he loaded the ammo into it and then scooped up his shotgun and slid it in.

Just as he was about to shut the door behind him, he suddenly caught sight of a black metallic sheath glimmering in the light of the outer room. Picking it up and inspecting it more closely he was now able to make out the elaborate red dragon designs and gold Japanese lettering. Taking great care he slowly removed the blade and examined it. The blade had been well maintained, recently sharpened and still able to operate with quickness and precision as he took a couple practice slashes before slapping it back into its sheath.

"I think I'll be taking you with me too," Jake said to the sword like it was a person, "Who knows maybe I'll get a silent kill on the guy." He then slid the sheathed katana into the lengthy duffel bag along with his shotgun and made one last inspection for any weapons he might have lying around.

At the very back of the closet he spotted something that made him cock an eyebrow. Resting on a shelf was a line of six M67 fragmentation grenades he had completely forgotten about, leftovers from his last mission.

Deep down he knew it would be overkill to bring such weapons along, yet there was also this weird gut feeling telling him to bring them along. Having trusted his gut instincts in the past with favorable results in the end he caved in and finally grabbed the line of grenades, placing them carefully inside the bag.

For medical supplies he grabbed a can of Umbrella, Inc. manufactured first-aid spray, an item viewed by many as a generic "super drug" and one of the company's crowning achievements. When applied to cuts, bruises or even large gashes it could accelerate the body's healing process and with it the immunity to further risks of infection. It was also known to cure a cold or headache within minutes, ensuring an almost infinite cash flow for the pharmaceutical giant. In addition to the spray, he also packed some hemostat pills to clot any massive wounds, some gauze pads and bandages. He wasn't exactly field surgeon material, but he still carried the bare essentials of what he thought would be needed.

Grabbing his wallet (complete with a fake ID) he slid it into his pant pocket and then the envelope, slipping it into the duffel bag before zipping it up. He made one last sweep of his apartment to make sure he had everything he needed was with him and then stepped up to the front door, stopping to take one last look of his dingy surroundings before stepping out and locking the door behind him.

_"This is it," _he thought to himself slipping on his sunglasses and making his way down the hall.

The young man tried to tell himself that he was ready for this assignment, but deep down a voice was telling him that something was up and that he had better not underestimate the man he was being sent after, a valuable lesson he had learned in the past.

This wasn't his first assigned hit; he was a mercenary hit man who had already performed several successful assassinations in the past few years. However, ten million dollars had been the highest amount he was ever promised for a hit.

He had no idea he was about to be sent into and what seems like a simple mission is actually the beginning of a nightmare that will forever change his life.

Author's Note: This marks the end of my prologue for my DA rewrite and this time around _whenever you seem me typing like this, this will mean that I am either typing one of Jake's thoughts or he is reading a note, diary, memo, etc. _ Also, if you take note of the kind of tennis shoes Jake is wearing, that is meant to be a reference to Nike tennis shoes, just trying to avoid any product infringement lawsuits! As I've stated before, this rewrite will retain elements of the original DA, but will also have plenty of new elements and events as well. Until then, that remains to be seen. As always, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	2. Ch 1: Road to Bloodshed

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: From now on _I will also type like this to indicate whenever Jake or anybody else is hearing a voice on a phone or radio or watching a show on TV._ Okay, that being said on with the story!

Chapter 1: Road to Bloodshed

**September 24, 1998**

It was now in the early evening hours of the day and the sun was quickly descending behind the verdant mountains in the distance as Jake sped down the desolate highway in his silver jeep.

The wind blew through his hair as he drove with the top down, enjoying the sensation. At the moment he blasted heavy metal music on his radio, doing what he could to keep himself awake. He had now been on the road for eight hours straight, not counting his stop by a truck stop diner where he had gotten himself some lunch and allowed himself an hour long nap. Now his spurt of energy was beginning to wear off and he would eventually need to find some place to crash for the night.

_"At least I wasn't assigned a given deadline for this hit," _he smirked as he took in the surrounding forests, prairies and lakes, finding himself temporarily distracted by the beauty and sense of tranquility they presented. Again, the serenity of his environment threatened to lull him into sleep and he was forced to quickly shrug it off.

_"I'm waiting until tomorrow to ice this chump," _Jake thought to himself, figuring he would check into a cheap hotel and maybe get a bite to eat and a good night's rest before carrying out his assignment. _"He shouldn't be able to make it too far out of a hole in the wall like Raccoon City anyway, unless he's some big survival expert."_

The song on the radio ended with a chaotic guitar solo before it was replaced by the disc jockey's voice, _"And that was 'Beautiful Nightmare' by Desecration here on 93.7 DMTL, northern Minnesota's official home of all that is heavy, and now a word from our sponsors!"_

Jake grunted and changed the channel. He always hated commercials, especially now because it broke him out of the distractions he had been attempting to create for himself.

An icy feeling returned to his stomach, one he had been fighting to repress all day long. It was a feeling of tension he always got before a mission, when he knew there would be bloodshed involved and when his life would be on the line. Such feelings created dread and suspense, yet when in the heat of battle those feelings transformed into a nonstop adrenaline rush of aggression. He gripped the wheel with whitened knuckles and punched the gas pedal, taking him up to 75 miles.

_"Not like there have been any cops around anyway," _he told himself. Come to think of it he hadn't seen any other vehicles since he passed through Blue Hollow, which had been almost 25 miles back, _"Yeah it's weird, but I'm not gonna dwell over it."_

With his fingers still on the radio knob he continued surfing through channels until he happened across a news radio station.

_"This is RCNN and welcome to the 6 o'clock news, I'm Stephanie Robbins," _a youthful-sounding woman's voice now filled the air, _"In Raccoon City today, police are still investigating the cause of a recent riot that took place outside of the Umbrella Corporate Headquarters in downtown Raccoon City yesterday afternoon._

_"What had initially began as a peaceful protest organized by the environmentalist group Neo Gaia descended into total chaos when, according to eyewitness accounts, a disheveled-looking man attacked event organizer Elian Jeffries and attempted to 'eat him alive.'_

_"Riot police had to be dispatched to the scene of the incident and in the end, seven people were injured, including Jeffries, and six arrests were made. Police were forced to use lethal force against the attacker. At the moment the man's name is being withheld pending notification of his family._

_"There was no immediate word regarding Jeffries' condition."_

"Damn," Jake muttered aloud, "Looks like I'm not going into some sleepy mountain hamlet after all. So much for the travel brochures promising I'd be entering a 'mountain paradise' and a 'skier's dream come true.'"

The voice in his head was also telling him that maybe bringing the big guns in wasn't such a bad idea after all. Then again, he hoped to be in and out once his job was done. A trip to the Bahamas would be in order once this was all said and done. He then returned his attention as the newscaster spoke up again.

_"Yesterday's riot is just the latest in a string of incidents that have been plaguing Raccoon City as of late."_

"Do continue," Jake said aloud as if he were engaged in an actual conversation with the woman.

_"Just three days earlier, an entire family was found murdered in their home located on Sherlock Dr. in the Watson district, believed to have been carried out in the late night hours. It was the latest in a string of bizarre murders and now brings the death toll to eighteen. When asked for comment, R.P.D. spokesman Troy Geist would not elaborate on the explicit details, only stating that it was a 'heinous and gruesome act' and that the department would do everything in its power to bring the perpetrators to justice._

_"Until the matter has been resolved, Chief of Police Brian Irons has mandated a 10 o'clock curfew for all citizens of Raccoon City. In response to further demands from local citizens' groups, Mayor Michael Warren has signed into act a bill that will oversee the hiring of thirty new officers, the first of whom will be scheduled to arrive within five days._

_"Now we will turn things over to sports anchor Clint Woodridge, who is ready to get you football fans pumped up for tonight," _the woman said abruptly changing her tone and turning things over to her colleague.

_"That's right Stephanie!" _an enthusiastic sounding man cut in, _"Football fans of Raccoon City, be prepared for tonight as the Raccoon Sharks take on their rivals the Old Court Thunders-"_

Jake switched off the radio and returned his attention to the road, where dead ahead he could see a large green highway sign with white lettering indicating that he was just five miles outside of the city limits.

The woman's words still rang fresh in his mind, the news of the riot and the string of recent murders; they remained engrained within his mind not wanting to leave anytime soon. Again he began to question if this assassination would be as easy as it sounded, or if there was a possibility it would be mistaken for falling in with one of these "bizarre murders," or even if the other string of murders would be able to distract the authorities from one meager scientist being whacked.

_"I'll worry more about this shit once I've gotten a decent meal and some rest."_

As he sped further down the road the sun disappeared entirely as he caught sight of his first building in quite a while, a Taxago gas station.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So this is Raccoon City, huh?" Jake asked aloud as he pulled up to his first stoplight at a four way intersection. He waited patiently as a semi truck drove past and slowly moved forth as the light turned green.

Moving further down the street he observed a variety of shops, restaurants and apartment buildings, even a few skyscrapers in the distance, something he didn't expect to find in the middle of a mountain community. Strangely though, he also noticed right away that the streets were barely populated on what should have been a busy weekend night.

_"They must really love their football around here," _he thought as he recalled the football game being mentioned over the radio before switching it off. _"Some people, basing their lifeblood around a bunch of guys in really tight pants tossing a piece of pigskin around, and I thought my hometown had it bad."_

He took a right onto Harper Ave., where he took notice of an outdoor restaurant called "Raphael's Corner Bistro," that was also completely deserted; even no waiters were in sight.

"Weird, nobody in sight-" Jake was muttering to himself in observance of the restaurant when he suddenly turned his attention back to the street ahead of him, only to notice the suited man stepping in front of him.

"Shit!!!" he blurted aloud punching his brake pedal, bringing his vehicle to a screeching halt.

The jeep stopped just inches away from the man, not close enough to bump his leg, but close enough to create a small wind current that ruffled the man's pant leg.

In anger Jake slammed his fist on the dashboard and was prepared to shout an obscenity at the man, but that's when he finally took notice of the man's appearance.

The balding man looked like some kind of executive and held an expensive looking briefcase in hand, but that's where any traces of elegance ended. He looked haggard with deathly pale skin and sunken, bloodshot eyes. Whoever he was he looked sicker than a dog, sick enough to show indifference to the fact that he had just been inches away from being run over.

Jake stared intently at the man, furrowing his brow to silently communicate his anger towards the man, but yet seeming to have no effect. Without a word the man moved on. He didn't walk away in a regular stride, but rather a drunken stagger and disappeared into a nearby alleyway.

"Drunken idiot," the hitman muttered under his breath and looked around for any other pedestrians before resuming his drive.

Coming to the end of his current street, he waited at another stoplight and watched in his rearview mirror as a taxi pulled to a stop behind him. Another nicely dressed man stepped out of the cab, but he looked exactly like the suited man from before in the sense that his skin was also deathly pale and he suddenly buckled over to vomit on the sidewalk.

_"Is there some kind of virus going around that they neglected to mention?" _he thought to himself as he returned his attention to the intersection in front of him where a sleek blue sports car and rusty red pickup truck passed through before the light turned green.

Driving past the Uni-Plex Theater further down the street, Jake felt some relief as he noticed a line of healthy looking young people standing outside, no doubt waiting to purchase tickets to the "Biohazard 4" movie whose name was featured prominently on the marquee overhead.

_"Glad to see at least some people look halfway normal in this town, rather than looking like they should be making arrangements with their funeral director," _he thought with black humor. Not much farther away he passed the "Well Defined" bookstore, where another normal-looking man emerged, yet constantly looked over his shoulder as he walked away, like he was waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and get him.

The sound of wailing sirens suddenly cut through the air, one that Jake knew all too well.

"Damn!" he whispered loudly pulling his jeep over to the side of the street. In his rearview mirror he saw two sets of flashing red and blue lights and tried to remain as calm as possible, hoping somebody had not already notified the police over him nearly running down that suited man.

Quietly he waited as the cars rapidly approached, only to breathe a sigh of relief a second later as the two black and white patrol cruisers whipped past him without second thought.

_"Finally…for once," _his mind told him as he wiped some forming sweat from his forehead. _"Gotta fucking settle down, Jake."_

Before he could resume his drive, the hitman took notice of an attractive young woman with shoulder-length auburn colored hair, a tanned complexion and an athletic build, wearing a purple zip-up hooded sweatshirt over a black polo shirt and blue jeans. Shifting the jeep into park he looked into the woman's direction, who took notice and offered a terse wave back.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he spoke in his most pleasant tone, "I hope I'm not bothering you or anything, but I need your help. I'm looking for a hotel to stay at overnight; do you think you could point me to any nearby?"

The woman shoved her hands into her pockets, seemingly intimidated by his appearance. He could tell by the look in her bright bluish-green eyes that she was debating whether or not she should help him or run away. Hoping to make her feel more at ease the hitman offered a slight smile and nodded to her.

"Well…" she started, curling up and down on her toes nervously, "…you probably could check out the Apple Inn. It's not too far away from here, just go two more blocks down and then take a right onto Apple Terrace Blvd. It's not hard to find, trust me!"

"Okay, thank you!" Jake replied and gave a small wave, "You have a good evening."

Following the woman's directions he found himself at the Apple Inn, a three story brick building almost completely obscured by the two taller buildings it stood between. Had it not been for the Apple Inn sign out front he would have passed it by. Following a sign indicating where parking could be found he made his way over to the car park located across the street and came to a complete halt. Stepping out of the jeep he reached over into his cargo bed and pulled out the duffel bag, his lone piece of luggage, and proceeded for the inn.

Feeling a cool breeze suddenly pick up the hitman buttoned his coat halfway up and began walking at a brisker pace. He had just stepped onto the sidewalk when the clang of a trashcan hitting the pavement stopped him dead in his tracks.

Whirling around on both feet he stood quietly for a few seconds and waited for whatever it was to show itself. As a precaution he placed his hand to his holster, ready to draw his gun if need be. All that could be heard now was the blowing of the wind and a pair of dragging footsteps.

"C'mon, show yourself!" he whispered.

From out of the darkness a lone figure staggered into view, a grungy man whose face was covered by a shaggy red beard and wearing a trucker cap that obscured his eyes. He wore tattered blue jeans and a filthy red satin jacket that looked to be covered in dark grease stains. The man didn't seem to take notice of him and fell flat on his face to the cold concrete.

"Just another drunk," Jake grumbled to himself and turned his attention back to the Apple Inn's front door.

Stepping into the front lobby the hitman found himself in modest settings with a small lounge area to his left with a couple of armchairs in front of a fireplace and a coffee table in between them, littered with old magazines. Several paintings covered the walls and many carpets and plants rested on the tiled floor, aimed at distracting guests from the drabness of the walls and floors. At the moment the only other person present was the front desk clerk, an older man with silvery hair and bifocals. The whirr of an unseen vacuum indicated the presence of a housekeeper nearby.

The clerk took notice of his new visitor and immediately set down his copy of The Raccoon Press, clasping his hands in front of him with practiced manner.

"May I help you?" he replied in an uninspired monotone that matched the dull ambiance.

"I need a room for the night," Jake replied setting down his duffel bag and pulling out his wallet.

"One moment please, sir," the man spoke reaching for the register and searching through the list of rooms carefully before replying, "Ah yes, we do have a vacancy. Room 309 on the third floor, it will cost you fifty dollars a night."

"Fine," the younger man replied pulling out a false credit card and presenting it to the clerk, who scanned it on the nearby computer and typed some things in before reaching into a cubby on the adjoining wall and presenting him with a red tagged key.

"Thank you very much Mr. Smith, have yourself a pleasant night and please enjoy your stay here at the Apple Inn," the clerk replied addressing him by his alias.

"Thank you sir," Jake replied and turned on his heel, only to stop and turn back around, "Excuse me, but are there any nearby restaurants you could point me to by any chance?"

"Plenty in this here town," the man chuckled, "If you want something close by, I'd recommend J's Bar a few blocks over on Tenth St.! Good appetizers I must say!"

"Thanks," the hitman muttered and made his way to his room.

The building appeared to be largely deserted and he didn't hear much noise coming from the adjoining rooms, then again he really didn't pay much attention either.

"Alright," Jake whispered aloud reaching into his pocket for his room key as he reached Room 309. Grasping the key, the doorknob suddenly twisted in front of him much to his surprise.

Stepping out of the room was another man who stood about three inches shorter than Jake, but looked a few years older than him. He had tanned skin; suggesting possible hints of Native American ancestry, dark brown hair falling to the bottom of his neck held in place by a short ponytail and wore a grubby beige jumpsuit with a tool belt around his waist.

The two men stared silently towards each other before the older man broke the silence.

"The sink was backed up. All taken care of now," the man spoke in the low, gravelly voice of a heavy smoker. With a nod the man walked past Jake and disappeared around the corner. The sound of a door slamming shut followed and all was quiet. Taking one last look around he entered his hotel room and locked the door behind him.

The room itself wasn't much like he expected, just a small room about the size of his own bedroom with a single two person bed, an antique armchair off to the side, wardrobe in the corner, a desk along the adjoining wall with a small bouquet of flowers and black telephone resting atop it and in front of the bed a small stand that barely supported the TV resting on it. Not too far away from the TV set was another door that led into the small bathroom the quiet plumber had been working in earlier.

_"Not much better than my own apartment," _he thought as he wanted to throw up at the sight of the checker patterned wallpaper. _"At least they do a good job of distracting their guests with all those paintings," _observing the painting of a castle in a European countryside that hung on the wall above his TV as he sat the duffel bag onto his bed.

_"Now for some grub!"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Stepping back into the calm, cool darkness of the outside world, Jake looked around carefully before advancing, remembering his encounter with the drunk from earlier on.

Surely enough there lay the same drunk still face down on the pavement, just the way he had been left. A normal Good Samaritan would have gone and checked on the man, but there was something about this guy Jake didn't like and he decided to leave him be. Random twitches indicated the man was still alive.

_"Your own problem now, pal," _he thought as he opened the jeep's door and got in.

The man visibly stirred as the hitman fired up his jeep, but paid him no mind and made his way towards his next intended destination.

Pushing himself back to his feet, the "drunken man" let out a long, torturous moan and stared towards the escaping vehicle's direction with his soulless eyes.

His smell had gotten the best of him, all he could think about now was how that man in black smelled…so tasty.

Author's Note: I initially thought this chapter would be hard to write because I was making this chapter up from scratch with no material to draw inspiration from in the original version of DA, but hey once I sat down it was like BOOM BOOM BOOM, the floodgate opened and ideas started washing over me.

I wanted to do something different this time around since in the original version Jake receives his assignment and the POOF he's in Raccoon City and I feel it worked out well in the end so I'm giving myself a pat on the back for this one big time!

As always read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	3. Ch 2: Outbreak

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: So far I wish to thank those who have been kind enough to review this remake of the original. With the magnitude of the original, I realize I have a lot to live up to for this time around, but it is a task that I am more than willing to take. It is your reviews that keep this story going, so feel more than welcome to read and review! On another note, I was so torn between what I wanted to call this chapter, so consider an alternate title for this to be "All Hell Breaks Loose."

Chapter 2: Outbreak

Jake sat quietly at the small table in the corner of the bar eating a cheeseburger and drinking some Loco Cola, minding his own business for the most part. He was famished after the long drive and was beginning to feel a little more relaxed now with some food in his stomach. Looking around the bar he was in, he almost felt tempted to order a beer, but knew he had to remain sober while on a mission. No matter how simple an assassination was, he still had to be on top of his game at all times. The man he was after may have been a wimpy scientist, but everybody had their surprises.

There was a fairly lively atmosphere in the small bar, contrasting the rest of what he had seen in Raccoon City so far. Everybody seemed to be happy and healthy, aside from destroying their inhibitions (and livers) with all that alcohol, and it seemed to be a pleasant environment for the most part with energetic rock music playing on the jukebox.

He let out a slight grunt as he observed the other people in the room with him, something he always did whenever he was in a small establishment with enough people to keep track of.

Several men sat at the counter to his right. Closest to him sat a middle-aged man with short neatly combed dark brown hair and dressed in an expensive charcoal gray suit. The man had his gaze locked on the television set hanging overhead, watching a news report regarding a riot at tonight's Raccoon Sharks game in which several people were injured.

_"Probably a doctor or a lawyer," _the hitman thought, _"he must be having some serious issues to be frequenting a place like this."_

He moved on to observe the next man at the bar and when he noticed the grubby beige jumpsuit and tool belt, he recognized the man right away. It was the same plumber from the Apple Inn. Not seeming to take notice of the hitman's presence, the plumber let out a barely audible sigh as he drank from his glass and watched the same news report.

_"Just as quiet as he was during our 'introduction,' if you wish to call it that."_

A couple stools down from the plumber sat a young man with semi-long shaggy brown hair and dressed in what looked like a riot officer's uniform, ordering yet another drink as quickly as he had finished his last drink.

_"A pig in an establishment like this of all places, so this is what the Raccoon Police Department has to offer? A pretty boy drunk! No wonder they're having all those problems in this town," _Jake thought to himself as he narrowed his eyes and observed the officer with great intent.

In his line of work, it was natural to not care much for the police nor did he like being in the same room with them even when they weren't hunting him down. As long as this man kept his distance, he would be alright he thought to himself as he took another big bite of his burger.

Emerging from the men's restroom and walking over to take a seat next to the officer was another man, this one looking to be around the officer's age with short ginger-colored hair cropped close to his head and wearing a puffy gray jacket and blue jeans. The two men resumed a conversation as the other sat down, one that involved the bartender interjecting and giving a stern warning regarding a past incident. A tidbit about him being let go from the R.P.D. was thrown in, seemingly affirming the hitman's theory about problems with the cops in this town themselves.

Sitting on the other end of the bar were two more individuals. The first was a large, robust looking African-American man dressed in a security guard's uniform, who was in the middle of eating a large steak. Next to him sat a much smaller white man dressed in the same attire that at the moment appeared to be passed out on the counter in front of him.

Looking beyond the bar counter, he spotted another man playing what appeared to be a video poker machine. This individual appeared to be in his mid-fifties with rapidly graying hair and a burly physique that matched up perfectly with his great height. He wore a filthy tan colored jacket and reached into his front pocket pulling out what Jake observed to be the man's third cigarette he had smoked while he was there, lighting it up with a finely crafted gold lighter.

The bar itself was tended by a young, well-groomed gentleman who worked diligently to ensure that the bar maintained its presentable appearance and was currently in the middle of cleaning plates and shot glasses.

Jake then looked in front of him to see two more individuals seated near the large windows at the front of the bar. The first was a younger African-American man seated nearest to the main entrance wearing what looked like a subway transit worker's uniform and was in the middle of filling out a crossword puzzle. The second person closest to him was a young woman in an elegant scarlet suit typing away furiously at a laptop computer.

The slamming of a payphone receiver across from him suddenly reminded of another man's presence. Storming away from the payphone located between the restrooms was a blond-haired man in a green sanitation worker's uniform who brushed past the hitman without a second look and plopped down into the chair at the table ahead of him, attempting to immerse himself in the daily paper to no avail.

_"Quite the motley crew we've got here tonight," _he observed as the bell above the front door rang out.

A lone young woman walked in, wearing a green jacket, yellow turtleneck sweater, black skirt and fashionable eyeglasses, a backpack hanging from one strap over her shoulder. She said nothing and walked towards the women's restroom, seemingly invisible to everybody except Jake, who still sat silently taking the final swig of his soda.

Passing the woman was another, younger woman, this one an attractive blonde wearing a waitress uniform and carrying a tray with two small glasses on it. Cindy her name was.

She walked towards the bar counter until a rat scurried past her, prompting her to let out a small scream and drop the tray to the floor, temporarily distracting everybody else from their current activities. The waitress shot an embarrassed glance at the older black man and then knelt down to sweep up the small glass shards.

Returning his attention to his friend, the larger security guard attempted to rouse him. "Aren't you eating anything? Hey Bob, where's your mind at?" he asked grabbing his friend by the shoulder and nudging him gently.

Bob slowly raised his head and looked towards the larger man with a pale, sickly face, much like that the hitman had noticed from those people on the street.

"What?" was all he could weakly mutter.

The bell rang again and the door came flying open. A dark-haired man in a red t-shirt and blue jeans suddenly walked into the room, quickly lowering his head as most of the patrons seemed to take notice of his hasty entrance. Without saying a word to anyone he rushed over to the men's restroom.

His gaze following the man the entire way, the large security guard frowned, "Who is this guy?" As he asked, his friend fell to the floor from his barstool.

"Bob!" he cried out and ran to his fallen friend's side and checked him over for any injuries. "Damn it, he's unconscious!" he said aloud as everyone else in the room suddenly turned their attention to him.

The man in the suit stood up and ran over to the unconscious man. "I'm a doctor, let me look at him!" he said gently brushing the man's friend aside. Pulling out a penlight he looked over his shoulder to the larger man, "There is a medical kit in my briefcase where I was sitting at. Get it and bring it to me quickly!"

"Sure thing!" the larger man replied doing as he was told.

As everybody was distracted by the older man falling unconscious, the front door again flew open before the bell could even ring as four men and two women came dashing in, all looking frightened and out of breath. By now many of the patrons were beginning to exchange worried stares with one another.

Jake too, would stop everything he was doing and observed the group until he noticed something that caught his eye.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud. On the floor next to him he noticed a large blood stain and then remembered that man who had hurried in and walked past him. He then looked back up to the group and looked closely at one of the members, a man with short brown hair and wearing green pants and a blood-stained yellow shirt, leaving a tell-tale trail of blood behind him.

"Huh, what's going on?" the police officer asked as he put down his drink and walked over to the small group.

"Oh god, it was horrible!" one of the women cried out and sunk down to her knees, only to be comforted by a younger man in a red and black plaid shirt. Upon getting a closer look at the crying woman he was able to take note of her purple hoodie and shoulder-length auburn hair.

_"The girl from the streets!" _his mind shouted, the woman who had directed him to the Apple Inn, here in the same room with him.

"Officer, we're here to report a double homicide," one of the men finally said, "We found a couple in a back alley and they looked like they'd been ripped apart."

The speaker then turned his attention to the bleeding man, "My friend here also got bitten by some nut job on the way here and he's bleeding pretty badly. Call an ambulance quick, please!" he finished as he composed himself and then went to treat his friend, helping him onto a barstool.

The officer gave a quick nod and pulled out his radio calling the incident in, "Don't worry, an ambulance is on the way!" he said moving over to further question the members of the group. By now the downed security guard named Bob had been helped back to his feet and the doctor now focused on the bleeding man, shouting at the bartender to get him some fresh towels.

Jake remained silent during the entire proceeding, the mention of the murdered couple took his mind back to what he heard over the radio on his way in and the mention of the recent "killing spree" that had already claimed eighteen lives. The two patrons closest to the windows stood up from their seats and stared awkwardly towards the small group. Everybody had been so wrapped up in the turmoil that barely anybody could register the bell ringing again.

A lone man staggered in with his head down and stopped after a few steps. His long greasy hair fell downward obscuring his face and he only stood deathly still almost as if he were under the influence of some kind of drug. His jeans and denim jacket were worn and dirty and he gave off a smell that Jake was all too familiar with, prompting him to put his burger down and stare in disbelief.

Death.

Something was up with this guy and right now the only thing Jake could do was scoot his chair back and be ready to strike if the man tried anything funny.

The young bartender suddenly stopped what he was doing and set his plate down. "Huh? What a weird customer." he said aloud staring intently at the disheveled man.

Looking to the ginger-haired man he nodded and reached underneath the counter, placing a pistol in front of him and silently motioning to him to be ready.

The bartender stepped out and approached the man in the denim jacket. "Hello sir, may I help you?" he asked stepping directly in front of the man.

A low moan suddenly came from the man as he looked up to reveal his severely mangled face. Large patches of skin were missing and one of his eyes had been gouged out. Before the bartender could step back, the freakish man's face twitched and his mouth opened to reveal yellow rotting teeth as he lunged towards the bartender and grabbed him by the shoulders, sinking his teeth into the man's neck.

"Oh my god, Will!" the waitress shrieked and everybody now focused their eyes on the situation up front.

"Get the fuck off me you freak!" Will screamed as he wrestled with the man and with a great heave shoved his attacker back out onto the street and closed the door, locking it before his knees gave out.

"W-What the hell was that?" he asked sinking down to his knees and slowly backing up.

Everyone in the bar fell silent and stood in utter shock at what had just transpired. Even Jake stood in disbelief and crept towards the counter.

The silence was quickly shattered by loud banging and the people turned their attention to the large windows. Two disfigured men could be seen pressing their faces against the windows and leaving bloody smear marks behind as they pounded relentlessly driven by primordial urges. Every patron present rose up from their seats and watched in utter horror as the sounds of more screaming people could be heard outside.

"What the hell is going on here?" the subway worker squealed as he leapt out of his seat and nearly fell backwards into the bar counter.

The woman in the red suit leapt back and pushed strands of blonde hair out of her face as the sickly man closest to her reared back and flung himself harder against the window.

"What is going on? Who are these people?" she asked to no one in particular as she accidentally bumped into Jake.

The larger security guard helped stand his friend up with another man's aid, "Hell if I know, but this is some messed up shit here if you ask me," he grunted in response to the woman's question as he watched the two men continue banging furiously away at the windows.

"I heard that!" the police officer's youthful voice boomed and he again pulled out his radio, "Dispatch, this is Ryman! I have an urgent situation over at J's Bar on Tenth St. and I need backup immediately! Does anybody copy?"

What followed was a torrent of shouts from other stranded officers demanding backup, new incidents piling in, requests for fire and ambulance services and even a few dying cries.

"Damn it!" was all Officer Ryman could say as he turned around to face the frightened citizens, "Looks like this entire city's going to shit!"

A series of perturbed cries followed and he realized he had probably said the wrong thing. "Okay, everybody just settle down right now!" he shouted hoping to defuse the situation, "We're in a tough situation as it is and it's only going to get worse if you freak out on me!"

Jake only stood silent in the background staring at the freakish people banging on the windows outside. Once again he began thinking about the sick people from the streets and that "drunk" he had encountered outside the Apple Inn. He then remembered his thoughts on how there could be a possible virus going around that nobody was told about.

_"Worry about that shit later," _he told himself as he pulled aside his coat flap to look down at his concealed Beretta. _"I'll be ready for them."_

The doctor had now diverted his attention to the bleeding bartender and was using another towel the waitress had retrieved for him from behind the counter, pressing it against the still gushing wounds.

"Will, are you alright?" Cindy frantically asked as she tried to help the man back to his feet.

"That guy's a fucking maniac! Why the hell did he do that? He fucking bit me!" the bartender weakly bellowed as his color began to drain from blood loss.

"Calm down sir, you're going to be alright," the doctor assured trying to hold the man upright.

"Holy shit!" the subway attendant yelped backing away from the window, "There's more of those freaks coming this way, and they're just as fucked up looking as the rest of those freaks!" he cried out. He fell backwards and scurried behind the bar counter as the man in the denim jacket had reappeared and banged away on the front door.

The screams outside began growing louder and Jake could see past the bloody smears that more of those freaks were slowly approaching and would quickly overrun the place if something wasn't done fast. He quickly looked over his shoulder and could see that a majority of the inhabitants were taking cover behind the bar.

"That door alone will never hold these freaks," the black security guard shouted and ran to the barrel table the subway attendant had been sitting at. He began pushing the heavy table in front of the doorway to barricade it. "Help me damn it!" he cried out.

The plumber shot up and ran over to help the guard finish pushing the barrel until it was positioned directly in front of the door.

Jake still remained in place until he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder. He turned to find the police officer standing next to him, "Don't just stand there man, help us out!" Nodding quietly he ran over to help the officer push the other barrel table to reinforce the one positioned in front of the door, interrupted at the last second by the journalist woman who had foolishly reached for her abandoned laptop.

"Lady, you need to stay back!" Officer Ryman harshly reprimanded.

"I'm aware you jackass, I know what I'm doing!" the woman retorted. Catching a glimpse of her nametag, she was revealed as "Alyssa Ashcroft" of The Raccoon Press.

Jake did not trust police officers at all, but he knew that whatever was going on was seriously messed up and far beyond his control. Right now he was in a position where he would have to rely upon other people to help ensure his own safety, even if it meant he would have to temporarily put aside his grievances with the system and cooperate with a cop of all people.

"Everyone get behind the counter now!" the officer ordered and all of the inhabitants began crowding behind the bar counter, the hitman being one of the last to join.

Acting instinctively Jake finally withdrew his Beretta and trained it on the front door. Out of the corner of his eye he looked over and saw the Apple Inn plumber pull out a folding knife and the larger security guard pulling out what appeared to be a customized Beretta 9mm of his own. The waitress had grabbed a large kitchen knife resting in the nearby sink and the ginger-haired man grabbed the pistol that had been placed before him by the bartender.

Both the doctor and the officer ran over and attempted to retrieve Will the bartender. The doctor looked over to his companion and spoke, "What's your name?"

"Ryman, Kevin Ryman," the officer replied coolly as he met the doctor's gaze.

"Officer Ryman, I'm Doctor George Hamilton and I need you to help me get this man behind the counter immediately. He's lost a lot of blood and we need to get him to the hospital, not to mention the fellow who just came in-" Dr. Hamilton continued until he was cut off by the waitress.

"Let me help!" she called out offering a fresh towel.

"Cindy, get behind the bar and stay there!" Kevin ordered, stopping himself as he realized he had come off more harshly than intended. The young woman nodded and made a dash behind the counter, taking a spot next to Jake. Kevin then returned his attention to the doctor.

Before the two men could speak amongst themselves, the door broke off of its hinges and slid to the side. Kevin quickly pulled the doctor back as three of the insane men climbed over the makeshift barricade and fell to the floor.

The strong putrid odor of death filled the room as the three men staggered back to their feet and swarmed the frightened bartender. Deafening screams followed as he tried in vain to fight off his attackers, but was quickly overpowered. The sounds of flesh being torn away and bones being broken filled the air, forcing many of the patrons to look away in anguish.

"Will!" Cindy screamed with tears in her eyes as she tried rushing to the man's aid, only to be held back by Jake and the plumber.

"Let me go! I have to help him!" she protested trying to fight their iron grips. The two men stared silently at one another, knowing they couldn't let her go or else she would risk the same fate as her friend.

Near the entrance Kevin pulled out a customized Colt .45 automatic and tried to run to the bartender's aid, but the doctor held him back. "No, I have to save him!" the young officer cried as he fought against the doctor, only to look up and find several other disfigured individuals beginning to climb over the barricade as well.

"Oh shit!!!" the subway attendant cried, forcing Jake to wince. "Let's get out of here! Those freaks are everywhere!" he screamed running to the back door and beginning to pound away on it when it wouldn't open. The others would then begin moving to the back door.

David approached the door and tried to open it. "Shit, it's locked!" he yelled in his raspy timbre as he tried ramming his shoulder into it. The large man in the tan jacket the approached the door and pushed the plumber aside.

"Let me try it!" he spoke in a gravelly voice as he began to kick away at the door and then tried his own shoulder ram. The chaos was starting to pick up and people were beginning to panic.

Jake tried to stay cool as the pandemonium erupted around him and he kept his gun trained on the attackers in front of him. He had been in plenty of gang fights before, but this was no ordinary fight, this was something new altogether. Only now was he beginning to get a better look at the new assailants and his blood begun to chill.

They all looked alike with the pale peeling skin and glossed over white eyes, but he could also see that some of the people were missing limbs and some of them even had their internal organs hanging out, yet kept on moving like nothing happened to them. None of this should have been possible; it was basically something straight out of a horror movie.

_"These people should be fucking dead!"_

Through all of the chaos Jake managed to spot the bartender's corpse being torn apart and could see a look of pure terror forever etched into the man's face as blood seeped from his open mouth. Over all the panicked voices and moans he could once again hear the cop call out.

"Cindy, where is the key to the staff room?" he asked the terrified waitress as he and the doctor joined her near the back door.

She paused before she spoke, "Will has it!" she whimpered burying her face into the man's chest.

Alyssa, the woman in the red suit, suddenly spoke up, "Get out of my way! I can pick the lock!" she screamed reaching into her pocket pulling out a small metallic instrument and began fumbling away at the door's lock.

Jake stood towards the back of the group with his gun trained on any possible attackers until one of "them" began making its way towards him. Looking at the "thing" that stood before him even wanted to make his stomach do a triple somersault.

The creature standing before the hitman had once been human. Its stomach had been slit open and its intestines slowly spilled out and dragged behind. Its lips had been ripped from its face, exposing the rotting blood-stained teeth in a tortured smile and had empty white eyes. Getting closer he could see exposed patches of muscle and rotting sheets of flesh clinging to the things arms and legs. It let out a groan of frustration as it reached its long bony arms out for the young man.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, the hitman slowed his heart rate and steadied his aim, knowing this would be the worst time to go to pieces.

"I don't think so freak!" Jake growled as he fired a shot into the creature's chest. Strangely enough the former human was only knocked back a few steps from the force of the impact, only to resume pursuit of its prey.

_"What's up with that thing? That was a clean hit!" _he thought as he fired more bullets into his oncoming attacker, striking it twice in the chest again and once in its collarbone. The thing shrugged the rounds off as if they were mosquito bites. He finally fired a shot that would strike the creature between the eyes, dropping it instantly. To make sure his attacker was completely dead he ran over and stomped the thing's head in, leaving behind a shoe print in a pile of red slimy mush that was once its head.

Jake was stunned by what he had just encountered and felt his pulse rise in his veins. He didn't want to say it, but he had seen things like these a million times before in plenty of late night horror flicks.

"Zombies…" he muttered observing the oncoming creatures trying to pile their way into the bar. Noticing the large number caused him to snap out of his trance. The other inhabitants armed with guns took cue from his shots and began to open fire at will.

"Aim for their heads!!!" he screamed over the sounds of frightened voices, undead groans and gunfire. Taking aim he fired another round that found its mark in the side of another zombie's head. He then trained his gun on another zombie close to him and fired a single shot into the creature's face, completely obliterating the area where its eyes and nose had been.

A frightened cry came from next to him and he spotted a zombie closing in on the woman in the purple hoodie. Leaping in front of the woman, he knelt low and performed a sweep kick to the creature's shins, sending it crashing face first into the floor below. The hitman then brought his foot down and buried the zombie's face into the wooden floorboards, causing it to spasm before it finally went limp.

The woman he just saved looked up to him and smiled, "Thank you so much!" She paused abruptly as she seemed to recognize him from the streets and moved behind him.

Jake only nodded and returned to firing on the zombies, dropping two more with successive head shots that rained blood and brain matter upon their brethren. The gray coated man next to him fired away wildly, more intent with hitting his targets rather than shooting to kill as the hitman had intended.

"Shit, I'm out!" the man blurted, "I don't have any more bullets!"

Seeing the man's plight the criminal reached into his belt and produced a clip. "Here, take it!" he shouted nudging the man in the side.

"Thank you! Cover me while I'm reloading!" he shouted back to him.

Again, the hitman only offered a quick nod and returned to firing upon the zombies, dropping another who had attempted to reach over the counter and grab the two men. The sanitation worker suddenly appeared in front of them, armed with a frying pan and struck another reaching zombie as hard as he could over the head. Swinging again, another was caught in the jaw, sprinkling rotting teeth onto the countertop.

"Figured you could use some help!" the man shouted batting another back with his now dented pan.

A loud crash came from the women's restroom followed by a scream. Kevin looked around and saw that several other zombies were already approaching him. The officer was ready to fire when the black guard appeared behind him and fired a round into the nearest zombie's skull. Looking in their direction Jake fired and two additional zombies fell over dead, blood gushing from their wounds the whole way down.

"Go! Save that woman!" the guard screamed towards Kevin as he fired shots at two more zombies.

"What the hell is taking so long?" shouted one of the men who came in to report the homicide, grunting in anguish as he was forced back by the cluster of people surrounding him.

"Ah! I'm trying but some of these fucking people aren't giving me any room to work!" Alyssa snapped as she tried to maintain her concentration while picking the lock. Despite the entire ruckus, the clicking of the door's lock being undone could be heard by all. "Alright, I got it! Everybody in now!" she barked, throwing herself through the door.

"Move it damn it!" the plumber hollered, echoing the reporter's call. A loud moan sounded from next to him and he looked over to see the same dark-haired man who had come in earlier, except now his eyes were a glossed over white and bloody spittle dangled from his opened mouth.

Raising his folding knife the plumber slashed away at his adversary three times, trails of blood following every precision slash before putting the man down with a stab to the throat. So caught up was he in the heat of battle, that he whirled around with his knife raised when he was grabbed from behind, only to breathe a sigh of relief when it was revealed to be Kevin.

"Did you get the girl?" he barked at the cop, quickly cleaning the fresh blood from his blade

"Yeah, she's right here!" Kevin motioned as the young woman appeared from behind him, but she looked different now. Gone were her glasses and shoulder-length hair, now falling just beneath her chin, she had changed her clothes too, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans.

"I'm fine, I wasn't bitten or anything," she spoke holding a scrub brush in hand.

"Okay, let's get…huh?" the plumber cocked an eyebrow looking down upon his fresh kill. A visible bulge beneath the man's shirt caught his attention. Reaching down and pulling the shirt aside he found a concealed handgun and in the man's pocket, a spare clip. "Looks like you won't need this anymore friend."

"C'mon people we have to move!" the large guard now called out. By now most of the men and women present had already charged up the stairs with only the guard himself, Kevin, his gray-coated friend, Jake, the plumber and the woman present. The plumber and the woman were up first followed by Kevin's friend, while Jake, the guard and Kevin took up the rear firing upon any advancing zombies that were close to reaching the back door.

Everybody else quickly made their way up the stairs running with enough distance between each other to ensure that nobody would trip over each other. The man who reported the double homicides was first up the stairs, continuing until he came across a window that allowed a small amount of moonlight to shine into the hallway. As he made his pass, the window smashed open and a zombie reached through to pull him out. He screamed and tried to beat the creature off of him, but in the end he was overpowered and dragged outside.

The subway attendant and one of the women from the outside group peered out the window and saw the man was in the middle of being torn apart by four zombies on the street below, forcing the younger man to hold back the bile rising up his throat. The woman sobbed quickly and ran on, ignoring the pleas of those who had come in with her. Seconds later, her blood curdling shriek rang out.

"What the hell is going on here?" the tan jacketed man called out as he ran ahead of the group to help the young woman. He rounded the corner to find the woman, who was dressed in a business suit, struggling with another zombie only to have the much larger beast sink its rotting teeth into her warm neck and pull out a large chunk of flesh, severing her windpipe and killing her instantly. Just inches away from the horrific scene, another woman dressed in a waitress' outfit lay with her entire side ripped away.

"Get away from her you freak!!!" the young man in the plaid shirt cried out as he did a shoulder tackle into the creature, forcing it to break its hold and drop the woman to the floor. Joined by the older man and the sanitation worker, they began to kick the monster repeatedly as it lay on the floor and then pulled the attacker up by his clothing and tossed him through another window, sending him crashing to the ground from the second story.

The plumber saw what had happened and grabbed a discarded sheet, draping it over the bodies of both deceased women.

"Oh god, Dianne!" Cindy cried from the back and tried running to her fallen co-worker, but was held closely by the sanitation worker who forced her past.

"Move on, don't look at them!" David ordered the others as he helped the bleeding man back to his feet after he stumbled to the floor.

Jake was the last person through the door and he fired one last shot into the face of another zombie that had gotten too close for comfort before closing and locking it behind him. A mere second later the zombies outside began banging on the door and the hitman was nearly thrown backward as he felt the force of a zombie throwing its entire body against the door. He quickly braced the door with his own body weight as numerous enemies banged feverously on the other side and he could feel his ears getting sore from the loud moans.

Looking up to the top of the stairs he spotted the officer assisting the older security guard to the top.

"Hey Cop, give me a hand here would you?" he screamed as he was nearly thrown again by another powerful vibration.

Kevin stopped what he was doing and ran back downstairs to help the black clad man, shoving a large cabinet in front of the door. With the cabinet securely in place the two men bolted up the stairs to join the others. The officer skidded to an abrupt halt when coming across the two bodies covered by the bloody sheet. Kevin reached down to inspect the woman's body, but Mark appeared and held him back.

"There's nothing more we can do for them, son," the guard spoke solemnly. Jake said nothing as he stared at the bloody sheet. He imagined that the officer felt angry at himself for being unable to save the women, feeling as if he had failed his duty to protect and serve.

Leaving the two men alone, he made his way into the staff room, met by looks of fear and disgust on everybody's faces from the events that had just transpired. He too felt disgusted at what had just occurred, but he wasn't scared out of his mind like some of those present and did what he could to fit in, knowing his usually calm, blank demeanor would make him stand out and arouse suspicions. The officer and guard followed him in and were instantly met by the looks of everybody present.

"Everyone, we need to keep this situation cool and under control. We are safe for now and need to find a way to escape from this place, but for now I need all of you to stay put and find something to arm yourselves with! Okay?" The man was trying to remain calm and collected, but Jake could see right through his façade to see that he was just as nervous as everybody else present.

"Stay cool? How the hell can we stay cool at a time like this?" Alyssa called out. "I don't know if you've had one too many to tell what's going on, but some guy just got eaten alive downstairs, another man just got pulled out a window and an innocent woman just got her throat torn out, not to mention all those freaks running around outside! I for one would like to know what the fuck is going on and what you are going to do about it?" the woman demanded followed by several other people nodding in agreement.

"Yeah man!" the subway attendant shouted, "I don't wanna die here. You're a cop you should be doing something about it!" he blurted out sounding like he was close to losing his sanity.

"Yeah pig, do what we pay your wages for!" shouted one of the men from the outside group, another office worker-type in a gray polo shirt and blue slacks, "Get your buddies over here pronto so we can get some kind of evac out of here! I don't give a damn if you have to call in the National fucking Guard!"

Kevin grimaced at the insult and wanted to rip the man a new asshole, but had to remain calm. "Look people I'm serious, we need to stay calm and work together if we're going to make it out of this mess alive! This is something completely new to us and it's unfortunate to report that the R.P.D. hasn't received any sort of training for this kind of emergency-"

"So we're fucking screwed then?" the same guy shouted, "We might as well just start shopping for our caskets then! I knew I should've never trusted my safety to one of your kind, especially when you answer to that worthless buffoon of a chief you've got!"

"Lenny, calm the fuck down already!" shouted the guy in the plaid shirt, attempting to mollify his fellow group member.

"How can you be calm at a time like this?" the man now called Lenny replied, "Hello, it's just turned into 'Night of the Living Dead' out there in a matter of minutes!"

"Alright that's enough out of both of you!" the large guard cut in setting his friend down, "We've got enough on our plate as is and if you don't wanna be here with the rest of us, then feel more than free to talk it up with our 'friends' downstairs!"

With the two bickering men calming down and the others quieting down he turned his attention back to Kevin, "So what's our game plan for now?"

"For now we wait," the young officer replied, "We need to find a way to keep those freaks out of here while we formulate some kind of escape plan." Looking around the room for anything they could use to barricade the staff room entrance, he suddenly took notice of several pieces of plywood resting nearby.

"Score!" he shouted aloud and ran over to inspect the wood realizing he would need a hammer and nails for the barricade.

The black security guard appeared before him with an item in hand, "Here, you can use this," he said presenting an industrial strength nail gun to the officer.

Kevin smiled to the guard and graciously accepted the nail gun, "Thanks,

anybody mind giving us a hand here?" he called out picking up one of the boards. "Somebody should look around for any other large objects we can use to form a barricade!"

"We can do that!" the sanitation worker called out, motioning for the burly chain smoker to follow him. The two of them quickly disappeared into the locker room not far from them.

"Allow me," the plumber said stepping up to the entrance and accepting the board from the officer.

Jake appeared behind the men and the guard stepped back to let the other men do their job, standing guard for any threats.

He watched closely as the officer began firing the nails and conversing quietly with the plumber. He hated to admit it, but he owed his survival to a cop of all people and knew that if he was going to be around the man, he would have to earn his trust. Besides, it wasn't like he planned on being around him for long anyway.

"Thank you so much for helping downstairs, kid. You helped save a lot of lives," the guard smiled.

"Sure thing," Jake replied letting out a small chuckle. The older man didn't seem all that bad in his opinion, emitting great amiability in spite of his gruff exterior.

"I'm Mark by the way, Mark Wilkins," the security guard said offering his hand to Jake.

"I'm Jake," the hitman replied accepting his handshake. The officer and plumber both took notice and temporarily stopped what they were doing to introduce themselves.

"I'm Officer Ryman, but you can call me Kevin," the officer spoke shaking both men's hands. "I know, sucks how formality can be thrown out the window in times of pandemonium."

The plumber nodded and then introduced himself, "I'm David, David King."

Before turning around, he suddenly stopped and took a closer look at the hitman, "I recognize you alright. You were at the Apple Inn."

"Yeah, you're that guy who was working in my room. We'll have to save that for later though," Jake replied focusing his attention on the doorway again.

"So it's a small world after all. Guess it just gets smaller when everything goes to shit like this," the officer chuckled, inviting a small laugh from the others.

Jake found it odd that he was actually standing around joking with an officer and a security guard and that neither man was trying to bust him, but he still needed to keep his guard up, having dealt with undercover officers in the past who tried the same tricks with him. Then again, he laughed and found that humor was actually a welcome element in a time like this.

"Back to work," David said reaching down for the next board and cocked his head to summon Kevin forth.

The sounds of shuffling came from the outside hall, prompting both men to suddenly stop. Jake and Mark both readied their weapons, while Kevin and David both stood silent and waited for who or what was approaching.

"I thought we got everybody," David whispered to the officer.

From out of the darkness, the businesswoman who had been murdered in the hall suddenly staggered towards them with her arms outstretched and blood still pouring from her neck wound.

"What the hell?" Kevin blurted out dropping the nail gun and scrambling for his .45.

"It can't be!" the guard gasped as he stared in disbelief and staggered backwards at the sight of the young woman. She looked the same as the others downstairs and was approaching them with the same murderous intent.

BAM!!!

A gunshot erupted and a second later the woman convulsed and hit the floor with a heavy thud, blood gushing out of a fresh wound in her forehead as she fell backwards.

The three men turned to see Jake standing there with a smoking gun in hand. None of them knew what to say right away, but the guard quickly reprimanded him.

"What the hell do think you're doing?" Mark shouted, attracting attention from the others. It was only when the younger man turned to face him that he finally pointed his gun at him.

"Are you even aware what just happened to that woman?" Jake asked taking his gaze away from the guard and staring at his fresh victim lying sprawled outside the entrance. "She's become one of those things from downstairs."

"Only question now is what the hell is it?" David asked. He shared the guard's suspicion, but seemed more interested in the dead woman.

"Beats the hell out of me, I'm no scientist," Jake flatly replied, completely ignoring Mark, who had by now lowered his gun.

He wanted to call her a zombie, just like he had believed the others to be. However, he knew all too well he would be met with skepticism by the other men, who seemed unwilling to believe it was possible for the dead to come back to life and feast on the flesh of the living. For now he would keep it to himself to avoid scaring the others.

"I just saved your ass and this is how you repay me?" the hitman sardonically asked Mark, who only narrowed his eyes suspiciously as if to tell him "I've got my eye on you now, boy!"

Kevin stared silently during the exchange. Granted he was an officer of the law and should have gotten after the armed civilian, but honestly didn't know what to say in a situation like this. He then stared back at the deceased woman, whose face was obscured by shadows, something for which he was greatly thankful. It was still too much for him to mentally digest, but could it have been possible that Jake's action was justified?

"Mark, calm down," he pleaded and then turned his attention to Jake, "Jake, I honestly don't know if you should have done that, but maybe you might have just saved our asses."

The older guard seemed a little rattled by the officer's defense and shifted his gaze again between both men.

"I don't know if there was anything we could have done for her," Jake spoke again, "She must have been too far gone. For all I know she looked at us and saw a bunch of juicy steaks. You can hate me all you want, but for now I resorted to the only option we had."

"Next time…" Kevin said struggling to find the right words, "…let the pros handle it."

"No problem man," Jake replied checking his current clip to see how many bullets it still had and slapped it back in.

"But thanks for helping downstairs," the officer spoke in an almost grudging tone, firing the nail gun again into a fresh board.

After several minutes of nailing the boards down, the barricade was finished.

Author's Note: It's official, all hell has broken loose in Raccoon City and our beloved antihero has found himself stranded in a bar with an entire army of survivors! Will they make it out in time or will they end up a midnight snack. To further quote the original "Texas Chainsaw Massacre:" Who will survive and what will be left of them?


	4. Ch 3: Plague Rages

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 3: Plague Rages

Half an hour had passed and a majority of the banging sounds had ceased for the time being, save for the occasional anguished moan or gunshot from outside. Things had momentarily settled down and many of the people had managed to regain their composure. During this time, names were exchanged and so were some minor details about their lives.

Jake sat on the edge of the large desk located near the barricaded entrance, taking a drink from a water bottle he had found in the small refrigerator. The suddenness of the recent skirmish downstairs had left him thirsty, so he had to savor what cool liquid was left in the bottle. His Beretta sat next to him with only two bullets left in its current clip, barely enough to handle a roomful of those things.

_"What could I expect otherwise? It's not like those things were ordinary humans who could be scared away by firing a few bullets into the air. I can only wonder how many more of those things are crawling around in this city," _he thought as his mind again drifted back to those he saw in the streets before arriving at J's Bar.

Looking around the room he traveled from person to person trying to remember all of their names.

When asked about his identity and background, he simply gave them an alias he had used before, Jake Smith, and that he was an off-duty Marine who had been in Raccoon City on vacation. At least that provided a cover for his excellent marksmanship skills without arousing too much suspicion.

The hitman honestly had no idea how long the cover would serve him here in this whacked out city, but it was all he had. For now all he had to worry about was surviving whatever was going on and hopefully complete this mission so he could receive the big payoff awaiting him. Shifting his thoughts to other matters, he began to study the other survivors closely.

Sitting in one of the chairs located at the rear of the room was the woman in the red suit that had picked the lock. She was Alyssa Ashcroft, an investigative reporter with The Raccoon Press.

If there was another group of people that Jake could not stand besides the police, it was the press, always sticking their noses in where they didn't belong. He recalled carrying out hits in the past for shady businessmen and mob bosses who had paid him handsomely to silence nosey reporters who had gathered evidence to be used for blackmail and he had never missed his target. This woman would fall to the same fate if she didn't keep her distance. He could tell by her demeanor right away that she was very assertive and argumentative, another thing that got under his skin.

Pacing nervously in the center of the room was Jim Chapman, the subway transit worker. The first thing that everybody had picked up about him was his cowardice. Jake did not blame the man for being frightened in a time like this, but his inability to control his fear and his whiny disposition would cause trouble down the line, leading the hitman to believe that they should just dump him and get it over with, but he knew the others would not go for it.

He watched as the man stopped and pulled out a quarter, flipping it into the air and catching it in the palm of his hand before placing it on his other hand. He could only shake his head, finding it pathetic when people entrusted their fate to so-called "good luck" charms.

Standing near the refrigerator was the young woman Kevin had saved from the women's restroom. Her name was Yoko Suzuki and she was a student at the local university. She appeared to be a highly intelligent individual, yet at the same time very timid; almost as if she had a lot to hide about her past.

Keeping a close eye on the barricaded entrance was Mark Wilkins, the security guard. Jake could tell right away the man was a team player who cared about protecting those around him. He had helped tremendously downstairs and it was safe to say that if it weren't for him, a lot of people could have been injured and even killed.

Mark's friend, Bob Park sat near a dartboard not too far away from him. Jake eyed the man suspiciously and could tell that the man was ill. The older man could tell that the hitman was staring at him and turned towards him with a deathly look his younger companion had seen plenty of times on dead bodies sprawled ugly in living rooms and back alleys. He suddenly broke into a severe coughing fit followed by a long groan, prompting many of the other occupants to look at him worriedly.

The groan reminded the young criminal of the kind made by the zombies and made him wonder if the man had caught what they had and was slowly becoming one of them. It was a scary thought that once again had him looking down to his handgun, which was already low and would be in need of a quick reload soon enough.

_"Damn it, I shouldn't have left my bag back at the hotel," _he thought to himself remembering how it carried his shotgun, sword and grenades, _"Man, I can be such a dumbass sometimes."_

Walking cautiously around the room was Kevin Ryman, the police officer. Despite being a "pig," he seemed to handle himself pretty well and knew how to get the job done, earning him some respect from Jake, but he knew that if the officer tried anything funny then he would not hesitate to turn on him.

Joining him was his ginger-haired friend, who revealed himself as Cody Knox. The man was himself an ex-R.P.D. officer and carried a visible air of irresponsibility that had probably been the cause of his dismissal. Nonetheless he seemed to have straightened himself out a little by now and was entrenched in his former duties as an officer.

Standing near the door leading to the owner's room was one of the men who had come in to report the double homicides. He was also one of the men who had tried in vain to rescue the woman who had gotten her throat torn out in the hallway. He had short, fiery red hair and wore a red and black plaid shirt, blue jeans and black sneakers. His name was Eric Sampson and he too was a student at the local university. Observing his behavior, Jake could tell that this young man was obviously very independent with a strong sense of justice who would greatly risk his life to protect those around him in danger. Then again, he didn't know if that was supposed to be admirable or foolish.

Located not too far away from Eric was the large, burly man in the tan jacket. His name was John Roper, and he was an auto mechanic at the Raccoon Express garage. He didn't say much else to the other survivors, but helped when needed. Jake sat there and watched as the man lit up what had been his fifth cigarette since he had been there. The hitman hated cigarettes and thought to himself if the zombies didn't kill him, those cancer sticks certainly would.

Sitting at the desk near Jake was the young woman from the street, whom he had saved from certain doom downstairs. Her name was Miranda Bennett, and she worked at the local boutique. He watched as she pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her shoulders to prevent a fearful chill running down her spine and then saw him watching her and smiled back, almost as if she was warming up to him. She seemed like a generous, caring person, but he could not allow himself to get close to her. His life was too dangerous for him to commit to a serious relationship and he could not put such a person in harm's way.

_"Besides, she deserves something better than a career criminal," _he thought glumly to himself.

At the back of the room, Dr. George Hamilton tended to the man who had been bitten outside before the attack. Despite his quiet demeanor, the other survivors had already taken a liking to the man and he had seemed to naturally acquire the trust of everybody around him, even Jake looked upon him as a man he would trust to watch his back in a foxhole.

The bleeding man was now sprawled out on the couch across from where Alyssa sat. His name was Dale Jeffers, and he breathed at an accelerated pace and was mumbling incoherently to himself, acting as if he were still out on the street and was still looking into the face of the disfigured man who had attacked him.

"No! Stay back! Stay the hell away from me!" he screamed raising a hand protectively to push an unseen attacker away.

"Hold him down damn it!" the doctor ordered with uncharacteristic vigor, using all his might to hold down the man's other hand.

"I'm trying!" the sanitation worker grunted back trying to hold Dale's other arm down. "This poor bastard thinks he's still out on the streets with those things! We might have to knock him out and have big John over there carry him out!"

"Only if Doc manages to stop that bleeding!" the burly man shouted back, "I don't wanna be catching any diseases if that guy picked up anything from those freaks!"

Left weak and powerless, Dale was quickly becoming consumed by an unknown virus that had left him feverish and disoriented from blood loss, his skin already turning a sickly pale color and his eyes bloodshot. There was little the good doctor could do for him without the backing of advanced medical equipment and a professionally trained staff. The belief among the others that he could be saved greatly diminished.

Cindy Lennox was currently assisting the doctor as he treated the wounded man. She appeared to be a bright and pleasant individual who tried to maintain her sunny disposition in spite of everything occurring around her, especially now that she was charged with saving a man's life. An herbal case hung on her shoulder and from it she handed the doctor a green herb. He promptly broke the stem and smeared its inner liquids all over the man's wounds before applying a bandage she had given him.

Carl Jenks was the sanitation worker who was, at the moment, trying to help restrain the delirious wounded man. Despite seeming a little temperamental at first glance, he had managed to calm himself long enough to prove himself as a valuable asset in desperate times. Aside from holding the man down, he also held a water bottle in hand and offered the man a small gulp as George placed a hemostat pill in his mouth.

Lenny Bryce was the man in the gray polo shirt who had also been charged with helping to stabilize the wounded Dale, and unlike Carl it was a position he openly resented. Already he had succeeded in irritating everybody else in attendance with his tactless, self-centered nature and it appeared that he was only tolerated because he still provided strength in numbers against their attackers.

David King sat in the chair next to Alyssa and had turned the coffee table in front of them into his own personal workshop, where he was crafting crude weapons out of some mundane items scavenged from the adjacent locker room. Taking a roll of vinyl tape from his tool belt he had taken the kitchen knife found by Cindy and combined it with a long pole to create a crude spear, and then took a can of pesticide spray and his own personal lighter to craft a makeshift flamethrower. The guy even carried some random junk parts, which he was able to use to repair a broken handgun he had found on a corpse from the men's restroom.

He was a quiet individual who appeared to only speak when spoken to for the most part and was to the point about completing tasks. The plumber was a man of mystery to the other survivors, but Jake could sense an aura of anguish from the man, caused by what was perhaps a violent past similar to his own. He could sympathize with the man's plight and respected his privacy.

"Think you should try calling for backup again?" Cody asked Kevin as he focused on the barricaded entrance at the front of the room, which had since been reinforced by some trunks kept in the locker room.

"Let me try," the officer replied and again pulled out his radio. "Dispatch, this is Ryman! Anybody who can hear this message please respond! I am stranded at J's Bar on Tenth St. and need backup immediately. I have sixteen civilians with me, two of whom need immediate medical attention. Repeat, if anybody can hear this message please respond! This is urgent!"

The sharp hiss of static filled the room followed by tidbits of garbled, barely intelligible background noises until a gruff voice came in loud and clear.

_"Ryman, I copy!" _the man called out and the officer's eyes lit up.

"Raymond!" he shouted into the receiver, "Raymond, where are you? Things are seriously going to shit over here and we need all the help we can get!"

_"I'm afraid there won't be much. We've got reports coming in from all over your area that everybody else is already responding to. Arthur and I aren't too far away and we can be over there in fifteen minutes tops. I'll see if I can get anybody else to help," _the older officer glumly reported.

"Okay, just bring who you can," Kevin pleaded, "Please just get over here as fast as you can!"

Exhaling deeply the officer clipped his radio back on his belt before turning to address the others. "Alright, it looks like we might have some help in this mess after all, but as you've probably heard it could be fifteen minutes before somebody gets here."

"So what do we do until then?" Miranda asked as she looked around at the others present.

"We'll sit tight until help arrives," the officer replied, "I know it's probably not the best option to some of you, but right now we don't have many other options left on the table."

"I agree," Mark jumped in, "if we move too fast then who knows what could happen, something I learned the hard way from fighting in 'Nam," his facial expression darkening at the remembered horrors.

"What?" Jim squawked, "You can't be serious! We've still got tons of those freaks downstairs trying to kill us and who knows what the hell else could be out there! Please tell me you are joking around," the young man whined so harshly that he was beginning to receive stares of annoyance from all those around him.

"Kid, you've got to calm down!" John called out walking over to him, "If you keep freaking out like this you're only going to get yourself and others killed. Snap out of it!"

"Calm down? Calm down! What the hell are you saying? I don't wanna die, especially in this place of all places!" Jim bellowed flailing his arms and bouncing up and down like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He continued to ramble until a large shadow enveloped his form and a warm breath was felt along the back of his neck.

"Wha…" Jim whimpered aloud and slowly turned around to see the much larger figure of Jake standing behind him with a menacing death glare that expressed his displeasure. "Oh dear lord…"

"I'd suggest you listen to the man," he boomed, "Keep it up and I don't think those zombies will be the only thing out there trying to kill you."

A stifled whimper only escaped the subway attendant's lips. He stood face to face with a man who dwarfed him by roughly six inches and at the moment, was giving him a sinister, almost hypnotic stare that easily pierced through his will. Without a word, the taller man grabbed him by the shoulder and gently led him off to the side, but not before placing an iron pipe in his hands.

"Use that on any of us and I'll have to regret showing any 'kindness' towards you," the bigger man whispered.

With a volatile situation temporarily halted it was now Kevin's turn to pace back and forth trying to collect his thoughts. Stopping in mid-step he looked to Cindy again, "Cindy, are there any guns Jack kept around here? Any weapons that you know about?" he asked walking up to the young waitress as she kept a vigil over the wounded Dale, who had passed out for the time being.

She gave a slow nod, but then picked up the pace as she remembered, "Yes, he has two. There is a magnum revolver in the desk in his office, that and he should have a shotgun kept in the drawing room cabinet. He bought them after getting reports of violent customers…causing trouble downstairs…" she added obviously thinking of Will being butchered downstairs.

Kevin and Mark both looked at each other and nodded. The officer began moving towards the owner's office when the guard spoke up, "I'll get the shotgun. You get the revolver then?" he asked moving towards the drawing room.

"Right," Kevin replied and both men disappeared into their respective rooms.

Jake reclined against the wall watching both men disappear and kept a close eye on everybody else. He was perfectly capable of fending for himself, but still, he wondered about the other untrained civilians in the room. Aside from him, there were only four other guys carrying firearms, which had seemed to be the most effective defense they had against the zombies. Once their ammo had been used up they would be screwed unless some kind of miracle suddenly occurred.

A crash came from the owner's office followed by a tired grunt from Kevin, causing everybody except Jake to jump up ready to run or ready to fight. Another crash suddenly came from the drawing room and now the hitman had drawn his handgun. The drawing room door opened and everybody stared anxiously. They were all relieved to see Mark emerge unscathed with a shotgun in hand, "I'm fine, sorry if I scared anybody. Damned cabinet was locked and had to be opened."

Another crash came from the office, prompting the security guard to train the shotgun on the door. The door opened and a collective sigh of relief came as Kevin emerged unharmed and with the large magnum revolver in hand.

"I'm okay. That damned desk had some kind of weird lock on it so I had to get rough with it, but at least I found this baby," the officer stated proudly raising the gun in the air for all to see. Jake eyed the weapon closely and knew right away it was a .357 Magnum, a gun that packed a hell of a punch.

Mark walked over to Eric and placed the shotgun firmly in his hands, "You know how to use one of these kid?"

Eric smirked a little and pumped the action of the shotgun loading a new shell into the chamber. "To tell the truth I've never fired an actual one myself, but my uncle is a gunsmith and I know the basic functions of one. Other than that I'm undefeated in the Raccoon University Bloodshot Tournament, three time champion. Play games like that and you'll be bound to pick stuff up. I know I just have to point at the bad guys and kiss their asses goodbye," he said taking a practice aim before lowering it and looking back to the guard, "Did you check for any more shells in the cabinet?"

Mark nodded and handed over a small metal case that housed several more shells. "There. Just remember kid this ain't no game you're in right now. Overconfidence will get you killed."

"Oh great, we're entrusting our safety to an untrained kid with a shotgun of all things!" Lenny scoffed crossing his arms, "Guess he'll be the one to blame when we're all dead!"

"You should talk asshole!" Eric rebutted, "All the time you've been here I haven't seen you contribute anything of use aside from annoying the hell out of all of us by being a huge prick!"

"Whatever, you're probably more worried about looking like a big macho hero anyway so you can score some ass in the end rather than help others!" Lenny continued waving his hands in the air, "I bet your mother would be so proud of you!"

The college student took great offense to the last remark and approached the crass man pointing the shotgun at his chest, "Do you have a problem, man?"

"Yeah man, I don't trust you!" Lenny shouted getting in front of the man, "You're just another wannabe and I can see the fear in your eyes! You couldn't shoot anything if your own life depended on it!"

Despite being a cynical jerk the man did have a point. Jake could see the fear in the younger man's eyes that deep down he truly was scared and would hesitate to shoot if another person crossed his path.

"And you think you're any better?" Jake asked stepping up behind Eric.

"You stay out of this chump," Lenny barked back, "I don't know who the hell you think you are G.I. Joke, but if you haven't noticed this is a matter that calls for somebody who really knows that the hell they're doing!"

"I see you've had a sudden change of heart then," Kevin chuckled in the background, remembering the smart comments Lenny had made earlier.

"How about you," Jake asked, "You think you can shoot me?"

With a lightning quick motion, the hitman withdrew his handgun and tossed it over to the office worker. He looked deeper into the man's eyes hoping to play mind games with him.

Lenny stood there confused, staring warily at him while at the same time trying to properly hold the gun. Jake gave him the same death stare he had given Jim, one that could make even the bravest man stand down.

"Well come on wise guy, I'm standing right here!" the hitman shouted stepping towards him with his hands outstretched. "You think you're so tough, now's your chance to prove it!"

Looking at Jake and then looking around to the others Lenny raised the gun and trained it on the hitman's open chest, envisioning the red dragon design on his t-shirt as a red and white target. He felt his hands shake and suddenly the gun began to feel very heavy, like he could drop it at any second.

"Heh, I can tell you've never pointed a gun at somebody. Look at you, your hands are shaking and your eyes give away your fright. You're a rookie plain and simple. You probably wouldn't survive a second in an actual gunfight." Jake's eyes never left Lenny's and he could see the man slowly begin to back off.

"Amateur!"

In another rapid motion, Jake leapt in front of the man and snatched the gun from his hand, twirling it on his finger before it stopped and was pointed directly in his face. From out of nowhere he pulled the trigger.

Lenny jumped backwards and closed his eyes, only to hear the click of the gun sounding throughout the room. Everyone else held his or her breath at the sight of Jake still keeping his weapon trained on the obnoxious man, fearing he would kill him and then the rest of them.

"The safety's on!" Jake said flatly, "Try that again and next time you won't be so lucky," he said in a cold, dark voice that sent chills up and down everybody's spines.

"Hey settle down, both of you!" Alyssa said standing up, "We need to work together here boys, so instead of showing how big your guns are, why don't we work on finding a way out of this mess?" she said stepping between the two men.

"She's right," Mark said approaching the two men, "We have a lot of problems to deal with right now and the last thing we need is somebody getting shot," he finished grabbing Eric by the shoulders and slowly pulling him away from the scuffle, the latter of whom nodded to Jake and mouthed a "thank you" to him.

Kevin then appeared behind Jake and whispered in his ear, "I appreciate your help and all, but really I'm supposed to handle situations like this myself. If this shit keeps up, maybe I'll put in a good word to have you deputized, but for now I'd better handle it." He then walked over to reprimand Lenny for his outburst.

The others could only look on in both fear and astonishment at how the hitman was able to intimidate Lenny with such ease and some of them must have even felt the horror he experienced, knowing that Jake was somebody they should not try pissing off. To them, not only did he look frightening enough with his large size, cold stare and dark vampire-like clothes, but he also appeared to be able to back it up as well.

Brushing past the hitman Kevin now approached the door leading to the winery. "Cindy do you know where the key is?" he asked trying the knob only to find it wouldn't turn.

Cindy stood up and shook her head, "Jack must have done something with it. I have no clue what though. He probably took it home with him."

"Crap, do you have any idea where Jack is?" Kevin asked standing a few inches away from the door.

"No…" the waitress trailed, "…nobody has seen him around all day. Could he be…no…" she stopped herself fighting to prevent oncoming tears. Miranda appeared next to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

A loud groan sounded from the back of the room and George suddenly cried out.

"Help!!!"

Everybody turned to see the once delirious Dale Jeffers had suddenly shot up from the couch and latched onto the very man who had been attempting to save his life, tearing a large chunk out of the man's coat sleeve as he tried to escape.

"What the hell?" Mark shouted rushing towards the back with his pistol drawn, followed closely by Kevin and Cody.

"That can't be, seconds ago he was knocking on Death's Door and now this?" Cody asked, standing nervously between both men fighting to steady his aim. Jake, Eric and David all stood in the background.

"Dale, stop what you're doing at once and get the hell away from that man!" Kevin shouted towards the man, who paid little heed to the officer's plea and continued after George, who by now had created enough space between himself and his attacker to rear back and deliver a shoulder tackle to the man, sending him stumbling backwards over the already blood-drenched sofa. Mark quickly ran over to pull the doctor to safety while Kevin and Cody both kept their guns trained on Dale.

"What is wrong with that man? He was out of it seconds ago and now he's suddenly recovered?" George asked aloud as he was pulled back.

"We're about as informed as you are Doc!" Cody replied and took a couple steps back as Dale stumbled back to his feet and now had his sights set on him. "This is your last warning, don't come any closer!"

A gun wasn't enough to deter the now insane man and he continued forth, until Kevin stepped in at the last second and kicked him hard in the chest to send him tumbling back onto the coffee table, which collapsed under his weight.

"What the hell do we do about this man Kevin?" Cody asked, remembering his former training that he was only to open fire as an absolute last resort. "We can't just shoot him!"

Kevin wanted to agree with his friend, but then his mind flashed back to those things that had attacked them downstairs. Whatever they were, they had shown no regard for the others and seemed devoid of reason. At first he really didn't want to shoot the man, but that realization was forcing him to rethink his stance.

Jake stood in the background with his gun trained on the attacking man, anxious to pull the trigger, but wanting to avoid the wrath of the others whom he believed would surely condemn him for killing the man. David and Eric both had the same looks on their faces pondering whether or not they should open fire upon the guy who had been normal just hours before.

"I'm not going to tell you again Dale, cease and desist at once!" Kevin shouted clearly losing his patience and about to squeeze the trigger himself.

"Kevin, it's not going to work! You'll have to shoot him!" Jake finally shouted from the back and readied himself to fire, only to be stopped by Cindy.

"No! You can't just shoot that man!" she protested, placing her hands on his arms.

"We have no other choice! He'll kill us!" the hitman growled shaking her off and squeezing off a round that caught the man in his already bitten shoulder.

The bullet only staggered the wounded man and he resumed his chase a second later. Using that as a cue, Kevin fired a round that caught the man beneath his left eye and Jake used the final round in his current clip, catching the man in the center of his forehead.

A deathly silence lingered as the zombie that had once been Dale Jeffers fell backwards onto the floor.

Jake took a deep breath and ejected the empty clip from his Beretta and casually slipped in a fresh one. A sight like this was nothing new to him having killed plenty of men before, but to the others this wasn't an everyday occurrence, especially in what should have been a peaceful mountain community like Raccoon City. Kevin and Cody could both be heard breathing heavily, while Cindy, Jim and Miranda all whimpered quietly, everybody else just remained silent and bowed their heads.

A loud, thunderous crash came from downstairs as the cabinet was knocked over and the door was ripped from its hinges. The zombies let out tortured wails as they began stumbling over the wooden cabinet and began to slowly ascend the stairs leading to the staff room.

"Shit! We've gotta go!" Kevin cried running over and staring towards the barricaded entrance. That pitiful barricade would quickly be decimated and the survivors would be eaten if something wasn't done immediately.

Alyssa ran over to the locked door and pulled out her lock-picking tools again quickly getting to work on the door. "Give me a minute and I'll have it open!"

"Lady, if you want to hurry up it would be greatly appreciated," John called out with his eyes transfixed on the entrance. Yoko stood silent near the burly man with only short, deep breaths to indicate the level of fear that had built up within her.

The reporter tried to ignore the comment and continued to jiggle the metallic objects into the lock when Miranda's screams had brought her attention to the entrance. Zombies had now arrived and were on the verge of knocking over the stacked trunks.

"Come on you piece of shit," Alyssa said biting her lip as she tried to maintain her concentration while fumbling with the lock.

"This shit's taking too long," Mark said as his friend Bob clung to his shoulder and he struggled to hold onto his handgun simultaneously.

"Lady move, I can kick the door down!" John called out impatiently as he got behind her.

Jake, Kevin, Cody and Eric took fighting positions near the hallway as zombies began piling up in front of the entrance. David gave his spear he crafted to Cindy and the flamethrower to George before taking a position alongside them. Mark was right behind them with his gun ready as he held Bob at the same time. Cindy, Yoko and Jim took a position behind the two guards with their melee weapons as they waited impatiently for Alyssa to finish with the lock. Miranda, Carl and Lenny were all unarmed and stood directly to the reporter's left waiting for the lock to give way.

"Give me a minute, would you? I've almost got it," as she finished speaking, the door's lock finally gave way, "See? I got it didn't I?" she said stepping back and opening the door.

"Well then what the hell are we waiting for?" Jim screamed excitedly and ran through the door first. Mark and Bob were next followed closely by Miranda, Carl, Lenny and then Alyssa herself.

Jake stood his ground along with the four other armed men as they guarded the escaping survivors.

_"What happened to this town? And why so fast?" _was all he could think to himself as the zombies pounded away at their fortifications, managing to knock down one of the trunks.

A loud crash rang out as one of the middle boards cracked and a lone zombie stuck its arm through clawing away pitifully. Jake fired a shot into the head of the zombie, slumping it over on a trunk as others continued to bang away furiously behind it.

With another mighty collective heave, the attacking mass threw itself against the barricade, causing more of the trunks to come spilling down.

"Aw fuck!" Eric cried out as he fell backwards from the shock.

"There's too many of them!" George cried out from the back. He too leapt back as another zombie attempted to leap between the boards, getting trapped between a board and the corpse of its "friend," still thrashing about wildly at the humans before it.

Cody stepped up and fired two shots into the zombie, the first striking it in the chest and the second killing it with a head shot.

"Fuck that shit!" Kevin cried knowing the situation was hopeless. "We have to go!" he shouted grabbing Eric and pulling him through the door, followed closely by George, Cody and David. "Jake, come on!" the officer shouted.

Jake shot down another zombie as one of the boards gave way and continued backing up towards the door until he felt the opening and threw himself into the stairwell. As he made his way through, he saw Alyssa standing at the top of the stairs.

"Hey, lock that door down there and hurry!" she screamed before disappearing through the next door.

Preparing to lock the door, another loud crash rang out, one that demanded the hitman's attention.

Utilizing their mass in cooperation, the zombies threw themselves against the barricade's remnants and came crashing through, knocking most of the boards to the floor. A sea of inhumanity poured through the fresh opening like a large floodgate had opened, all of them stumbling drunkenly over one another and a few being trampled in the stampede.

It was here Jake was finally able to take in more distinct characteristics of the walking dead, or more importantly who they had been in their previous lives.

They consisted of members of both genders and had varied in age groups, ethnicities and physical appearances, even the kind of clothes they wore told something of their previous lives for some of them.

A majority of the zombies wore casual clothes, some wore business suits, there were also those who wore the surgical scrubs of hospital employees, green sanitation outfits similar to what Carl wore, construction workers, and in the middle of it all, he was able to make out the light blue shirt of an R.P.D. officer who had somehow become caught up in the mix.

_"So even the pigs are caught up in this…guess that explains what happened to Kevin's backup."_

"Jake, are you alright down there?" Alyssa called out again.

The woman's voice snapped the hitman out of his train of thought and he slammed the door shut behind him, locking it before beginning to climb the stairs.

A loud bang sounded as one of the zombies threw itself with all its might against the door's aged wooden surface. Turning around, the hitman watched as the door shook under the weight of its unseen attacker, hard enough to nearly knock it from its hinges.

"Already?" he quietly muttered to himself and ran down to brace himself against it, another hit nearly knocking him into the nearby wall.

"Somebody help me down here!" he called out.

Alyssa and John appeared at the top of the stairs and saw Jake holding the door as it began to break apart from the attacks on the other side.

"Help him!" she commanded the larger man. John seemed a little hesitant at first, but then began running at full speed towards the door. David had overheard Jake's pleas and appeared to provide assistance as well.

The hitman looked up to see the other two men rushing towards him and pressed his back against the door to hold it shut. "Damn it!" he cried out as another hit forced the door open, but he had been strong enough to force it shut again.

"Alyssa, go help the others!" David ordered as he and John helped brace the door. The reporter nodded quickly and disappeared back into the liquor room, only to be met by George.

The doctor stood before Alyssa as calmly as he could, but the grim look on his face told her he had bad news to report.

"We have a problem," he whispered as Eric and Kevin appeared behind him. "An emergency shutter is down and it's blocking our way to the roof."

"Shit…" the reporter muttered as she felt a fresh wave of panic surge throughout her body, but forced herself into a calmer composure. "Can't we knock it down? There are plenty of us around to do it," she shot back looking ahead to the other survivors, who had gathered near the shutter entrance.

"It's gonna take some time to knock the damned thing down," Mark shouted from around the corner, "and we don't have 'some time,' we need to get through now!"

"What about this?" Miranda asked as she presented a fire axe to the security guard. Mark graciously accepted the bladed axe and struck the shutter with all his might, only managing to make small dents in its steel surface.

"It will take too long. We have to find something else," Yoko cut in, observing the axe's pitiful effect on the shutter.

"Whatever you are doing, do it!" Jake grunted as the door was forced open again and a skinned arm shot through, wrapping tightly around his bicep. He tried to shake the limb off of him, only to bend it backwards until he heard the bones snap. "John, David run! Get out of here!" he ordered as he felt the door being forced open once again.

John gritted his teeth and shook his head, "No way man! If we leave now, we won't have a place to run in a few minutes! We've gotta stay until they get something up there!" he shouted back.

Jake nodded and tried with all his might to close the door again. Another arm shot through the opening and grabbed his shoulder. He squirmed a little to free himself, only causing the door to open a little more. A wave of hot, putrid breath washed over him and he again forced himself to hold back the bile forming in his stomach.

"Jake, stop moving man!" David grunted as he strained every muscle in his body to stop the door from opening.

"Try telling that to these sick fucks!" the hitman shot back, crunching the fingers of another zombie between the door. Looking down he saw how David had sunk to his knees and holding his shoulder against the door fighting to keep it shut.

"David, go help the others! We can take it from here!" John shouted, noticing the man's predicament.

The plumber hesitated at first until Jake shouted "Go now!" Nodding in acknowledgment, he made a mad dash up the stairs and into the liquor room to encounter Alyssa, Kevin and Eric.

"Go help the others. See if you can help get that shutter up!" Kevin shouted to David and Alyssa over the moans heard downstairs, "Eric, stand guard with me. They're going to need our help if they have to leave anytime soon." The college student nodded and held his shotgun protectively.

Right now they needed to get that shutter up and now or else they would all be dead within a few minutes.

"Can't we lift this thing from the bottom?" Jim called out.

Mark shook his head, "We can't get our fingers under it. It's too damned heavy!" he grunted as he continued to swing away with the axe, by now heavily winded from swinging with all his might.

From the back Miranda stood near Bob, who had now been rested on the nearby forklift. Looking over to the sickly man he only replied with a half-smile. She tried hard to return the gesture hoping it would lighten the mood, but it did little or nothing to help.

"Too bad we can't use this lift, huh?" he asked looking to the machine he rested upon.

"Wait a minute!" she blurted out gazing upon the machine that sat almost unnoticed to the other survivors. She gave the older guard a giant smile, "That's it! We can use this! Bob, you're a genius!" she beamed, but it quickly sunk in that she didn't have a key to operate the machine. "Does anybody know where the forklift key is?"

Cindy's face lit up, "I know where it is! I'll get it!" she cried out with excitement and a new found sense of hope.

"I'll go with her!" David called out following closely behind the young waitress. The two of them ran past the shelves holding bottles of alcohol and came across Kevin and Eric, who stood guard with weapons drawn and watched nervously as John and Jake fought to hold the door shut, which was now beginning to open more frequently.

"Just get that key!" David ordered as he took a position with the two men standing guard, keeping his repaired gun trained downward if their companions were to fail.

Cindy quickly ran to the desk in the small wine room and began searching frantically for the forklift key, knocking most of the papers to the floor until she heard a metallic clink. Kneeling down and brushing the papers aside her eyes lit up as they spotted the small red key.

The door opened behind her causing her to jump, but she was quickly relieved to see that it was only David and he was moving over towards the barrels.

"I've got an idea!" he exclaimed, taking hold of a large barrel and turning it onto its side, "Help me out!"

Cindy complied and took hold of another large wooden barrel and helped roll them past Kevin and Eric into the stairway, where Jake and John still fought valiantly to hold the door shut. David then turned his attention to the waitress, "Cindy, go start up that forklift. We're gonna slow these freaks down!"

The young woman nodded and made her way back inside. With her gone, David then turned to Kevin, "Help me with these things," he said motioning to the barrels.

Rolling the barrels onto their sides, Kevin called down to the two men. "Jake, John, let the door go and get up here now!" the cop shouted as both men shifted their weight on the door they fought desperately to hold shut.

_"Here goes nothing," _Jake thought. He looked over to John and they both nodded to one another before making a mad dash up the stairs. A loud crack filled the air as the door flew off its hinges behind them, sending more zombies spilling into the confined space, again tripping dumbly over each other as they were blindly driven by incessant hunger.

With the two big men having made their way up the stairs, Kevin looked over to Eric and the college student could already tell by the look in his eyes that he knew what was next.

"Let's slow these freaks down!" the cop said and used his foot to send the wooden container rolling down the stairs. It struck a heavyset man in an undersized t-shirt head on and sent him flying backward into the group behind him, knocking many down like bowling pins thanks to his additional bulk.

"Yeah, get down and stay down!" Eric called out sending his barrel rolling down with heavy thuds and crushing additional attackers trying to climb over the wreckage left by the first barrel.

"Alright, let's get moving!" Kevin ordered and the two reentered the liquor room, where they found both Jake and John bent over huffing and puffing after their recent heroics.

"Thank you so much, Officer," John muttered and then made his way over to a shelf where he gathered some empty bottles and discarded newspapers.

"I gotta say thanks to both of you too," Jake added with a quick nod.

Kevin returned the gesture, "Yeah, well we should be thanking both of you too. You guys did good holding the door as long as you could. You bought us a lot of free time. Now come on, let's get out of here!" he said barely holding back a smile.

The cracking of wood emphasized his point and the officer slammed the liquor room's door behind him, locking it and kicking a large wooden crate over in front of it.

"Shit, these things never give up!" Eric bellowed wiping sweat from his forehead. The sound of a motor coming to life and the forklift lifting something echoed throughout the large room.

"Fuck that shit, let's go!" Jake said motioning for the other two to run ahead of him while he followed close behind.

"Come on," David yelled over the forklift's dull humming. He quickly made his way up the ladder attached to the shelves and then waited as the forklift made a bridge using the crates positioned on its arms. The plumber quickly shuffled across to a vent that led to the roof entrance staircase. "Hurry up goddamn it!" he barked continuing towards the opened vent.

"You don't have to tell us twice," Kevin shot back as he ran over to the ladder and together with Mark, helped Bob up the ladder. As soon as the older man had reached the top he was followed closely by the police officer, then Mark and so on. When it had finally come to Miranda's turn to climb, the door connecting the staff room staircase and liquor room burst open.

Another stunned silence filled the air until it was broken by Alyssa. "No…no this can't be! It doesn't make any sense! This can't be possible," she said in utter disbelief as Jake ended up dragging her towards the ladder.

"Worry about them later," Jake said leading her towards the ladder, where Lenny stood at the bottom shifting his gaze frantically back and forth.

"Hurry the fuck up already, they're getting closer!" he shouted at Miranda, who ascended with visibly shaken nerves and had to be pulled up by George as she reached the top. No sooner did she make it to the top, the frightened office worker had leapt onto the ladder, his foot catching the second rung up before he was blazing a trail to the top.

One by one everyone else waited impatiently in line until they saw the first zombie rounding the corner, prompting Jake to pull out his gun and shoot the creature dead with a clean head shot.

Yoko was in the middle of her climb when she paused to stare at a zombified woman who had staggered drunkenly towards the group.

"How could it come to this so quickly? Why?"she whispered to herself as she reached the top.

Eric began climbing when the zombies were less than fifteen feet away and closing in.

"Come on damn it, hurry!" John shouted as he and Jake waited for their respective turns to climb the ladder. The hitman got on as soon as there was enough room for him to begin his climb to safety.

"Don't come any closer!" John cried as he pulled out a newly created Molotov cocktail and lit the newspaper used for its fuse. With a mighty oomph he chucked it at one of the zombies leading the pack, catching it in the chest and quickly dousing it in flames. The undead creature convulsed and threw itself into several other zombies, igniting them in the process before it succumbed to the flames and fell over dead for good.

The burly mechanic looked up and handed a Molotov to Jake, "Here, you can get more from up there!" he said before tossing another one into the undead crowd congregating in the confined space, igniting four more as it struck the ground.

Jake nodded and tossed his cocktail farther into the crowd, igniting an indeterminate amount, who brought more down with them before falling over dead. With the flammable liquids present he honestly didn't know if it was a good idea to be using these kinds of weapons in an indoor environment, but the desperate situation left everybody to temporarily forget that logic.

"Hurry up down there!" Alyssa cried out as Eric threw himself onto the top ledge. She looked back to see Jake climbing at full speed just as John tossed his last Molotov cocktail and then grabbed the rungs to begin his climb.

Eric had reached back to pull the hitman onto the ledge and in turn he looked back to John, who was only a few feet beneath him.

"Come on man!" he called out turning around to help the older man up, but it was already proving to be too much of a challenge. The chain-smoking mechanic wheezed heavily, his chest contracting after all the running combined with the ravages of his self-destructive habit. He reached a hand out weakly, only to lurch backward.

John had been up a considerable length when one of the zombies reached up and grabbed his foot in a vain attempt to pull him down. He easily kicked off the first attacker, but two more would appear to yank on his feet.

"Help me!" he cried reaching out with a free hand towards Jake, who had grabbed onto him while Eric turned around to hold the hitman by his feet while struggling with the burly man. He kept a tight grip, but could slowly feel himself being pulled forward as the taller hitman struggled, his labored breathing giving away his dilemma.

"Mark! Kevin! Anybody!" Eric cried out as he saw both men with their guns aimed at John's attackers. "Cover us!" he shouted as he could see Jake's grip beginning to falter.

Mark shook his head, "I can't do it! I don't have a clear shot! I'll hit John!" he shouted from near the vent.

"Damn…" Eric grunted as he struggled to maintain his grip on Jake.

The hitman could feel his hopes dwindling as he saw the zombies continue piling into the room.

"Damn it, is there no end in sight?" Jake whispered as he felt his grip on John loosen at the sight. One of the attackers reached up and sunk its teeth into the mechanic's calf, tearing away some of his flesh.

"Oh god help me!" he cried as his hands slipped from the rung he hung onto below.

Jake fell back as he felt his grip still loosening, but fought as hard as he could to keep the man from falling. The fate that awaited him was too horrible for anybody to have to endure.

"Jake, don't let me fall!" the big man pleaded in pain and fear as more of the zombies began clawing away at his legs. The fresh blood pouring from his ravaged calf had already coated the rungs beneath him and he was having an increasingly difficult time maintaining his footing.

One of the zombies managed to wrap its arm around his waist and pull itself up to where he hung on the ladder. The weight had been too much even for a powerful guy like John and he let out another howl of pain as the zombie sunk its teeth into his shoulder, forcing him to relinquish his grip on the ladder and fall into the sea of undead below him. A final anguished cry sounded, stopping all of the survivors dead in their tracks.

Jake looked down as the mechanic tried desperately to fight the creatures off of him, but there were too many and he could only watch in horror as the hungry zombies piled on top of the man, sinking their rotting teeth into him at once and within seconds he was completely enveloped by putrid flesh.

John Roper was dead.

Many of the survivors sat paralyzed as they listened to the sounds of groaning and chewing. Even Jake came to a stop as the sickly odor filling the air had become too much for him and he dared not look back.

"C'mon, let's just get the hell outta here and get to the goddamned roof!" Mark spoke solemnly as he slid along the top of the crates.

Jake Cavanaugh had actually found himself at a loss for words. The man who had just died had given his life for all of the survivors, and if something couldn't be done to avenge him, then his death would be in vain.

George's well-cultured voice called out from the other room, waking the hitman from his thoughts.

"We have to hurry! That shutter won't last much longer!"

The hitman looked over to his left as he slid along the top of the crates to see that the attackers were throwing themselves against the emergency shutter. Its metal surface had already been weakened by the blows from Mark's fireaxe, which along with the combined weight of all those zombies wouldn't have to wait much longer until the shutter crashed to the floor.

He could only growl in disgust. Whatever was going on he was determined to survive at all costs. If he couldn't rely on his skills, then he would have to rely on his own stubbornness to survive.

_"I'm not going down without a fight, not my style."_

Author's Note: And so another chapter concludes in this rewrite. Some of my changes may appear more prominent in this chapter, primarily with some dialogue and character development, and with Jake's interactions too so he doesn't come off as a being a bully in this chapter and somebody the other survivors would relate to a little more closely this time around. Now that I've got that out of the way it's on to the next rewritten chapter! As always, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	5. Ch 4: Battle for the Streets

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Alright loyal viewers, this is where I really step things up on the action side of things so fasten your seatbelts! Read and review! Now, on with the story!

Chapter 4: Battle for the Streets

BAM!!!

The sound of a body being thrown against aluminum resonated throughout the narrow hallway, prompting the survivors to jump in fright.

"Come on!" George called out as he shifted his focus back and forth between the shutter and the ventilation duct Eric was crawling out of at the moment.

"Hold your fucking horses!" Jake shouted back as his gloved hand popped out from the opening, followed by his head and neck.

Kevin, David, Cody and Mark all stood in defensive positions with weapons ready, soon joined by Eric as he climbed to his feet. George stood behind them with his "flamethrower" ready, praying he wouldn't have to use it. The others had already made their way out onto the rooftop, Mark giving Bob to Miranda and Carl so he could help the armed survivors.

The hitman let out a loud grunt as he pulled himself into the hallway, struggling to bend his long form in the confined space before Cody and Mark reached down to help him to his feet.

Heavy pounding continued on the shutter with the moans of the undead growing louder by the minute. Jake looked down to see the dents in the aluminum surface growing larger with every strike, already weakened thanks to the blows from Mark's fireaxe.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's move!" Mark shouted.

As the security guard spoke, a thunderous crash rocked the hall as the shutter was finally knocked from its track and thrown against the adjoining wall. In an instant, an entire wave of zombies fell into the narrow space. Again, they stumbled drunkenly over each other as they pursued their fresh targets. The sight would have been almost comical had they not been out for blood.

Jake pulled out his gun and prepared to fire until Mark grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Forget about them. Let's just focus on getting out of here now," he said turning to address the others, "There could be more of those things outside, we'll have to conserve our ammunition."

He was right. There would likely be plenty more of these freaks running around on the streets, judging by the amount that had already piled into the small establishment. Also, they had no idea when they would come across more ammo.

Jake still felt angry at the monsters for jeopardizing his mission. He wanted to take some pent up aggression out on the bloodthirsty savages, but his mind had gotten the better of him on this one and he grudgingly turned to follow the others.

Stepping outside, he was the last person to reach the rooftop and locked the door from the inside before slamming it shut behind him, doubting those creatures would have the intelligence to unlock it. Mark and Eric were already moving an old jukebox machine towards the entrance as he appeared.

"Help us please! This should slow those damned things down!" the guard grunted, applying all the weight he could to move the machine. Joining in, the hitman helped brace the broken machine against the door until it was held firmly in place. As an extra precaution, Jake and Eric found some wooden crates and stacked them atop the old machine.

"That was close…" the college student gasped, bent over and exhaling deeply.

"No shit!" Mark replied, only to be interrupted before he could add anything else to the conversation.

"Mark, get over here now! Bob's not feeling too well!" Miranda called out from around the corner.

The three men dashed around to find the older guard slumped against the wall with the young woman and Carl trying to offer some form of comfort.

Miranda looked up to the three men, her beautiful blue-green eyes having lost their twinkle and now dulled by sorrow and concern.

"It doesn't look very good," she reported, "He seems very sick and I don't know if he's going to…" she abruptly stopped, not wanting to say what everybody else knew she would.

Mark immediately knelt down next to his friend and turned to the others, "You guys go on, we'll catch up in a little bit," he ordered waving them away.

Looking quietly to each other, the others complied knowing that something bad was probably about to happen and that it should be left privately between the two guards.

Jake ran at the front of the small group and rounded the corner to join the others, who all stood around in similar states of fatigue and taking a much needed breather.

Standing behind the brightness of the neon sign, the hitman was still able to make out details on many of the surrounding buildings. So far many of the adjoining buildings had appeared to be largely untouched, but in the distance he could see tendrils of black smoke wafting lazily into the nighttime sky, the reddish-orange light of blazing infernos creating an eerie illumination from below. A helicopter circled above, but from his viewpoint he was unable to make out any distinctive markings, indicating if it could have been the police, fire department, paramedics or even the military.

"_Has this entire city gone to shit already?" _he wondered, staring in quiet awe at the fires in the distance. _"It must have," _an inner voice added as he remembered the frantic calls heard over Kevin's radio and the zombie wearing an R.P.D. officer's uniform downstairs. In addition, he could now hear several moans coming from below, mixed in with frightened screams, gunfire and sirens.

Another gunshot suddenly pierced the cool autumn air, this one much closer and followed by Mark's blood curdling scream.

"BOB!!!"

Everybody else jumped in fear, except for Jake, Eric, Miranda and Carl, who all looked quietly to one another. Having seen the old man's grave condition, they knew what had happened and silently mourned the loss of a man they had done everything they could to protect.

"_Maybe he really did have the same thing wrong with him as all those freaks inside," _Jake thought staring at the welded gate behind him, _"The pale skin, that glassy stare in his eyes…the groan he let out after that coughing fit, all similar signs. Whatever happened, he must have wanted to die while he was still human."_

All eyes were locked on the security guard as he made his way into the open area where they had gathered, his eyes red as fresh tears still streamed down his face. Kevin, Alyssa and Cody quickly ran over to comfort him.

"Mark…" the ginger-haired man asked, quickly stopping himself as he couldn't think of any proper words to say, the man's stone face telling him everything he already needed to know.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry about what happened to your friend," Alyssa spoke placing a comforting hand on his broad shoulder, stepping out of the assertive, argumentative persona she had displayed throughout the entire episode until now.

"If there's anything we can do-" Cody spoke up again, only to be cut off in mid-sentence.

"There's nothing more you can do…he's gone," the older man said with a dismissive wave. "Something got to him and made him like that…it was all so fast…"

"Get a hold of yourself," Kevin said placing a hand on Mark's other shoulder, "I'm sorry about what happened to Bob, but I'm sure that it was something far beyond either one of yours control. We have to keep moving for his sake. His death will be in vain if you just sit around waiting for those things to get us…" he trailed off, remembering how he had been forced to put down Dale and furthermore, what had just happened to John. Not wanting to say anything else, he quickly backed off.

Mark nodded and snorted as he wiped away his tears. Miranda and Carl both stood against the wall near a door leading into an extra storage room. Walking over to both of them, he presented them with some "gifts."

"Take it, you'll be needing this," he said offering Bob's customized 9mm to the young woman. The sleek black pistol still reeked of gunpowder as it was only mere minutes ago the older man fired the very round which had taken his own life. She stared nervously, prompting him to force it into her waiting hands.

"Thank you Mr. Wilkins," she muttered nervously, staring down at the weapon placed into her delicate hands. "I'm sorry about your friend and I feel your pain." Looking up she was again met by the stony gaze of a mentally scarred man.

"Save it," he retorted, "You'll need it more than he will now."

Having given the gun to Miranda, he then gave the fire axe to Carl, who nodded in thanks, yet displaying a questioning look as to whether or not he should really be accepting the aged weapon.

"What do we do now?" David asked walking over to Kevin and Alyssa, Yoko and Jim following him closely behind.

"Yeah, what do we do now oh gracious public servant?" Lenny barked in his ear-grating nasally tone, "There has to be millions of those things out there besides what we encountered inside, and there are only fourteen of us here on a roof like a bunch of sitting ducks! We don't have much for weapons and very little resources, so I'd suggest you pull something out of your ass pretty soon or else we're all going to be dead!"

The words hit Jim like a ton of bricks. "Oh god, my life is shit!" he yelped slinking against the wall beneath the fenced-in walkway. Yoko quickly knelt down next to him and did what she could to soothe his rattled nerves.

"You know I've seriously had enough of you and your whining," Kevin shouted, getting in the office worker's face and thrusting a gloved index finger into his chest, "I know my job is to serve and protect your worthless ass, but right now I'm seriously contemplate leaving you behind! If you don't like it then fine, go ahead and sue me and the department. Quite frankly, I don't care."

Lenny looked around to see all of the others giving him looks of disgust, completely oblivious to the sounds in the background. Behind him, Jake glared daggers into him, menacingly displaying his Beretta.

"What did I tell you about whining?" he growled.

The office worker gulped and again looked around, noticing the other gun-wielding survivors were giving similar displays of malicious intent.

"Keep it up and I won't even bother to hold them back," Kevin added.

Knowing the situation was hopeless for him; the disgruntled citizen finally backed down and took a position in the corner.

"Hey, do you hear that?" Carl suddenly spoke up, cupping a hand to his ear as something had caught his attention.

From a distance, the distinct wail of sirens again filled the air and both Kevin and Cody pressed themselves against the chain-link fencing, moving their heads in an attempt to get a better look at the streets below.

"Shit, there's too much clutter in the way," Cody half-shouted as the higher fencing around the walkway and the front sign obscured their view.

"You think the cavalry is coming here?" Eric asked from behind them.

The sirens grew closer until the screeching of breaks brought an abrupt end, followed by the clicking of car doors opening.

"Attention everyone!" a voice boomed over the megaphone, one that made Kevin's eyes light up.

"Arthur, he's here!" he said to Cody next to him, referring to fellow officer Arthur Hollander.

"Due to the riots in progress, this area will be closed off soon. Please proceed to this checkpoint immediately. If you do not leave the area in time, we cannot guarantee your safety!"

"Well you heard the man, we've gotta get down there fast!" Cody said stepping away from the fencing.

"But how," Eric asked, looking over his shoulder towards where they came from, "We're blocked in by all those zombies!"

A loud bang was heard and the crates atop the old jukebox rattled.

"See what I mean!" he said pointing his shotgun in the direction.

"There!" Cindy called out, pointing to the gate Jake stood near, "Jack had it welded shut to keep out troublemakers from next door, but we might be able to break it down if we use enough force."

"Then allow me!" Jake spoke turning around and performing a powerful spinning back kick, succeeding in breaking off the top hinge. Leaping backward, he let out a loud grunt as he performed scissors kick that finally knocked the rusted gate to the ground. The others could only stare in awe at his display of brute strength.

"Way to go tough guy!" Kevin called out, "That gate's not getting back up anytime soon!" he shouted, inviting a few chuckles from the others. The hitman on the other hand was not amused.

"Quit being a fucking comedian and come on!" he shouted, hoisting himself onto the flimsy catwalk with a tired grunt. Breaking into a sprint, his trench coat flapped in the wind behind him as he pumped his arms and legs as hard as he could knowing what was next.

With a graceful leap, Jake leapt across the crevice between the bar and the adjoining apartment building, grasping the overhanging ledge tightly as he dangled above the alleyway below. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up with little trouble. Regaining his momentum he turned to face the others and extended his hand.

"Come on!" he cried waving the others forth.

Due to the frailty of the catwalk, the survivors would go one by one, with Kevin going first. Unlike the hitman, he approached the ledge and took a couple steps back before propelling himself into the air, managing to catch the ledge and then pull himself up without assistance. Looking over to his companion he signaled for help with a silent nod.

"Come on and jump! We don't have much time left!" the officer called out to the others.

Cody was the first to jump, followed by Alyssa, then Cindy and so on until Mark was the final jumper, having to be helped up by both Kevin and Jake due to his bulk.

"Okay, that's all of us!" George reported, taking one last look towards the overrun bar, only to look away as the images of deceased patrons flooded back into his memory.

"Alright," Kevin said and looked back to David and Cody, "Both of you, follow me inside. Jake and Mark, guard the others."

Approaching the door, Kevin got in front of it while David and Cody both took positions at each side with weapons ready. Counting to three with his fingers, he brought his foot up and kicked the door in. Stepping inside he waved his weapon around and motioned for both men to follow him in.

"All clear, but watch yourselves!" Kevin called out from inside, causing the others to approach cautiously. When the hitman stepped up to the door he was able to see what they meant.

Blood was splattered everywhere in the confined space they stepped into, the walls, the doors and even up on the ceiling. There were no signs of dead bodies anywhere, not even any discarded severed limbs. A lone bloody handprint stained a steel door on the nearby elevator, indicating that someone had been through there.

"My god…" was all George could mutter upon the sight of blood. Despite being a trained surgeon and having gone through hundreds of operations in the past, the sight still unnerved him.

"It looks like they must've butchered twenty people in here, sheesh!" Carl sighed shaking his head in disgust.

"Let's just focus on getting away from all this shit," Mark said, speaking for the first time since offering his extra weapons to Carl and Miranda. "I've seen enough bloodshed for a million lifetimes all in one night already."

Lenny approached the elevator and reached out for the blood-drenched buttons, only to be stopped by Yoko.

"Don't do it, riding an elevator could be too dangerous at a time like this!" she pleaded, remembering what she had seen in horror movies, where whenever somebody attempted to use an elevator they would often find themselves either overrun once the doors opened, or the cables would snap and they would plummet to their doom.

"Back off little girl!" the angry man snapped, shaking his wrist free from her clutches. He depressed the button and held it for a few seconds, hoping to hear the hum of an approaching elevator, but nothing could be heard.

"Out of service," David grunted, "looks like we'll be taking the stairs."

"Oh hell no," Lenny shouted, "I'm not taking the stairs in a situation like this! They'd take too long. Remember back at J's, those bastards can climb stairs! This would be the safer and faster way out. You remember what that cop said outside."

"We don't have another choice!" Kevin called out, trying the nearest door only to find it wouldn't budge. "Carl, get over here quick!"

The sanitation worker nodded and drew his axe back, striking the door as hard as he could. A huge crack was made by his first strike and splinters were sent flying, followed by another blow that created a small hole. After his third strike the door finally creaked open.

"Same plan as before," Kevin said, "Cody, get alongside me. David, Mark and Jake, cover us!"

Taking a position next to the plumber, they started down a plain, dimly-lit stairwell keeping two steps between themselves and Kevin and Cody, while Mark covered them. The others followed from a safe distance with their own weapons equipped, hopeful the trained men up front could protect them.

"Okay, looks like we've cleared the first floor," Cody reported as he approached the turn leading to the second floor.

"Stay sharp, son," Mark spoke from the rear as he spotted a door with a bloodstained window.

Neither man up front replied and methodically descended the next stairwell, where a few spent bullet casings littered the steps and some blood had splattered onto a nearby bulletin board. The door leading to the second floor hallway had come into view and the group passed it by without second thought, until Carl and George, who covered from the rear passed.

Without warning, a decaying hand punched through the glass and started thrashing wildly as its owner smelled fresh meat.

"Move people!" Kevin shouted from the front and motioned for the others to start running, throwing their cautious approach out the window as they now knew they were not alone.

Rushing down the final set of stairs, the R.P.D. officer reached the door leading them to the first floor hallway, kicking it open and was met by a zombie in a tattered jogging suit, whom he quickly dispatched with a round to the right temple. Cody charged through right behind him and leaping over the fresh kill.

Jake and David were right behind them and rushed down the narrow hall, which ended at a T-junction. Another moan sounded from their right and the two found themselves confronted by a zombie that had once been a young woman, shambling towards them with the bone sticking out of her right leg. The crafty plumber quickly reached into his toolkit and tossed a heavy lug wrench right into her face, hard enough to shatter her jaw and knock out most of her teeth. Pulling out his gun, he then finished her off with a round through her left eye before she hit the ground.

"Come on!" he shouted looking over his shoulders to the others who were behind him. The front door was to their immediate left and they made a play for it, eager to see what was happening outside.

Tenth St. was in a state of total chaos. Handfuls of human survivors ran at breakneck speeds in every available direction, desperately avoiding relentless undead pursuers that were literally nipping at their heels.

Five officers were present altogether and fought to defend the area, struggling not to hit any of the panicking civilians crisscrossing in and out of their line of fire. Poor lighting made it difficult to discern who was friendly and who would try to rip their face off. They fired when given the opportunity, knocking down assailants who would only rise to their feet again seconds after receiving seemingly lethal rounds to vital organs.

"Raymond!" Kevin suddenly called out and ran over to an older man in an R.P.D. uniform with a rugged face and ear-length gray hair. The man initially didn't hear him as he was busy firing an entire clip into an oncoming trio of attackers who had come crashing through a plate glass window. Stepping up next to the man he raised his gun and fired a round through the last attacker's orbital bone.

"Kevin! You startled me," Officer Raymond Douglas replied, while loading a fresh clip into his Beretta. "I'm surprised you're still alive."

"What the hell is going on around here and where is everybody else?" the younger officer asked, his gaze diverting towards the front, where the other officers had taken defensive positions behind their squad cars and continued to fire away. He placed a hand on the car Raymond stood behind and braced himself, ready to duck if a stray round was fired in his direction.

"This entire city's become a war zone and we're losing ground fast. We need all the help we can get, but everybody else is all spread out. This was all I could bring with me," the veteran replied.

"Are there any other plans?" Cody suddenly jumped in, instantly receiving a scowl from his former co-worker.

"Hell if I know, but for sure they are trying to figure something out to evacuate any survivors," Raymond spoke, returning his attention to Kevin, "I spoke to Dorian not too long ago. He's waiting for them to get a van over to Apple Terrace Blvd., right in front of the Apple Inn."

"Apple Inn," Jake loudly whispered to himself, _"Shit, I've gotta get over there and get my stuff!"_

"They're setting up temporary emergency shelters at the fire station and at the First National Bank over on Sparrow. We'll probably have to get them over there whenever we can," Raymond continued. Noticing the volume of oncoming attackers, he holstered his pistol and pulled out the Remington Model 1100P shotgun strapped to his back. "I've got another shotgun in my trunk, now go help them out! Go!"

Kevin nodded and tossed the magnum revolver to Cody, running over to the squad car parked nearest to the apartment building and retrieving the aforementioned weapon. Cody was about to follow him until he felt a firm hand placed on his shoulder.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" Raymond snarled, "Damned druggie."

"I'm going to help my friends," the ex-R.P.D. officer retorted, shaking himself free, "Jeez, let it go already Douglas!"

Grunting in defeat, the veteran officer watched as Kevin and Cody rushed forward, only to spin around again as he heard footsteps on the concrete, finding Jake, Mark and David trying to follow the two men.

"And where do you think you're going?" he said stepping in front of the group.

"We're with them," Mark spoke up, "they need our help!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't allow any more civilians to be placed in harm's way," Raymond replied, turning around to focus on the approaching zombies, "It's our responsibility to protect you!"

"But-" Mark tried to say.

"But nothing," Raymond cut him off, "We have a job to do!" he spoke up, only to stop as he noticed the police cruisers before him, one parked at a sideways angle. "Alright, if you need something to do, you can move that unit over there to help form a barricade."

Jake and David looked to each other again, knowing there would be no way around the grizzled officer. Rather than waste time arguing with him, they both ran over to the first parked car and pressed all their weight to push it forward until it was bumper to bumper with the sideways car.

The two men watched cautiously with weapons drawn as their companions made their approach, as did the others.

Positioned between two squad cars, Officer Arthur Hollander fired desperately into the chest of a man wearing a bloody white dress shirt, his shots having little or no effect as "it" continued staggering forth. He couldn't tell if his mind was playing tricks on him or not, but this particular attacker seemingly moved much faster than the rest of his kind.

Next to him, Alec Borden and Ian Sachs stood behind one of the cars also firing everything they had; expending entire clips of 9mm rounds and handfuls of buckshot as they fought an oncoming horde of what should have been ordinary townspeople. Fellow officer Pete Fletcher was behind the other car, where a tall shirtless man reached across after him, causing him to drop his gun out of fright.

Having wasted his last round on the now crimson shirted man, Arthur could only cry out in fright as the man grabbed him by the shoulders and bared a mouthful of broken, yellowed teeth and prepared to bite.

The attacker would never get its chance as it collapsed to the ground a second later, a fresh hole punched into the side of its head.

Turning around, the older man was met by the sight of former colleague Cody Knox and beat cop Kevin Ryman, who had charged past him to fire his shotgun upon the zombies that had been attacking Ian and Alec.

"Aim for their heads!" Cody shouted before firing a round into the head of the zombie that had been attacking Pete.

"Kevin, thank God you decided to show up," an out of breath Arthur exclaimed, "These things are everywhere!"

"We know," Kevin replied, stealing a glance at the broken front door of J's Bar. By now it had largely appeared to be abandoned and the only signs of activity were the pools of blood, broken glass and bodies of those who had truly died. He didn't know if the zombies were still upstairs or had managed to make it outside. The mere thought had him wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

"What's our plan of action now?" Pete asked running over to the other men. His gaze manically shifted back and forth between his colleagues and the other zombies that could be seen in the distance.

"If you ask me, we should be getting the hell out of here," Alec cut in, jamming a handful of fresh shells into his shotgun.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea about now," Arthur replied, looking down to his empty handgun.

"Well we'd better be starting then!" Ian shouted, pointing down the street. The few zombies had almost magically morphed into crowd of about thirty as more came piling out of the alleys and shops.

"Shit! Fall back!" Arthur ordered.

Knowing their chances were slim, the group retreated towards the barricade, where the others had taken up defensive positions.

Jake saw the oncoming horde and had his elbows rested on the hood of a cruiser to steady his aim. David, Mark and Raymond were positioned around him and behind them were Eric and Miranda. The latter two were inexperienced in firearm usage and therefore, would serve as a backup if something would happen to the others.

Deep down, Mark had begun to question his judgment over giving such weapons to the untrained young adults, but then again he remembered it was nothing new. At times he had been forced to distribute weapons to untrained villagers when his unit was desperate for backup while serving in Vietnam.

The rest of the group had remained positioned at the back of the street, near a set of ancient-looking double doors. Only now did every member possess some form of weapon, with Alyssa and Lenny finally getting their hands on a discarded shovel and wooden pole found near a pile of trash. They knew the officers had a job to protect them, but were willing to fight themselves if it came down to it.

"_All units report," _a voice called over the squad car's radio, _"Repeat, all available units report!"_

"This is Douglas, I copy!" Raymond replied as his fatigued colleagues reached the barricade and began climbing over the cruisers.

"_Raymond, this is McGraw!" _another officer shouted over the popping of automatic rifles and deep booms of shotguns, _"We need assistance over at Raccoon General immediately! It's down to just me, Bronsky, Casper and Prescott, that's it! There are more of those 'things' outside and we've had to lockdown the building._

"_They're still getting incoming calls regarding the attacks and have lost contact with most of their paramedic units. The staff is getting desperate and we need backup immediately or else nobody else can be admitted!" _

"Hang tight David, we've got our own desperation situation over here," Raymond replied, grunting in frustration as he watched the zombies press forth.

"_We need help! Those things won't die!"_ a frantic voice called out.

"_They've got us pinned down!"_

"_Requesting backup now,"_ another called out as moans sounded in the background, _"Repeat, I need some goddamned backup now!!!"_ The line went dead shortly after.

"Let me have that!" Kevin spoke after pulling himself over the cruiser and snatched the receiver from the veteran's hand.

"All units," he said into the radio, "Whatever you do, aim for the head! I repeat, aim for their heads; that seems to be the only way to put them down for good."

"_Copy that Ryman,"_ another voice boomed, one whom Kevin recognized as that of Elliott Adler, _"Whenever you get the time, haul ass over to Main St. We've got close to a thousand of those things barricaded, but we can't hold them for long!"_

A collective gasp sounded among the group and many could only murmur quietly amongst themselves, exchanging wide-eyed gazes.

Even Jake found himself gasping in disbelief. What he had initially believed to be a small nuisance was morphing into a full scale catastrophe at an alarming pace, too fast for his own mind to process. He felt more angered than frightened by their presence though, knowing they jeopardized the success of his mission. Just the thought of their creation had him wanting to strangle that Birkin fellow even more.

"_He was a scientist working on biological viruses; could he have been responsible for the creation of these things too?"_

The wave of zombies was now moving closer to the group and would be on top of them at any second. Nobody could tell how many were in this current group, but it had continued to grow and the hitman sensed they would be unable to handle every single one of them. Again, they varied in shapes, sizes and age range, the only things they had in common were their undead state and being covered in the crimson fluids of either their previous victims or their own bodily wounds.

At the front of the group he even made out a small child caught up in the mix, wearing a pink party dress that was now mostly colored red. The same soulless, vacant stare was emitted by her pure white eyes and bloody spittle dirtied the pavement below. It was a sight that made his blood boil.

Jake Cavanaugh would be considered a piece of shit by society's standards, being a contract killer who had assembled quite a tally of victims already within his brief career. Deep down however, he did have a personal code of honor he followed. Part of this code dictated that he never purposely targeted innocent bystanders, especially small children of all people.

"_Get a grip, they're not human anymore!" _his inner voice reassured him.

"Fire at will," Raymond shouted raising his shotgun and firing a blast into the oncoming army.

Wasting no time, Jake centered his sights on a zombie in a torn deliveryman's uniform and pulled the trigger.

The round caught the zombie above its right eye and sent it sagging to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Before a pool of blood could even form around the dead man's head, another of its own kind stepped over its remains to carry on the pursuit, this one in a bloody blue business suit. As quickly as he had shot the first zombie dead, this one too would befall a similar fate as a round punched through its nose.

Kevin and Alec stood next to him blasting into the mass with their shotguns, ripping away limbs, obliterating heads and even disemboweling a few attackers with point blank blasts, only to have their upper torsos come to life and continue the pursuit of their intended prey. Pete and Ian were there to provide backup, firing clear, precise potshots into any assailants untouched by the wide range of their colleagues' weapons.

Cody, Mark and David were spread out amongst the defenders, firing away and dropping the zombies with clear head shots of their own. Despite having only known each other for a few hours, the three men were already showing signs of working together as a solid, cohesive unit. Nonetheless, they wanted to do as much as they could for the others, knowing most of them were scared, untrained civilians who weren't used to these kinds of situations.

From his position nearest to the apartment complex, Eric readied himself for a shot and picked a man in torn blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Doing a mental countdown from three, he squeezed the trigger.

KA-BOOM!!!

A thunderous blast echoed and the gun bucked in his hands, causing him to jump back with a frightened cry. This was his first time firing an actual weapon and the recoil from the Remington had been much more powerful than he had anticipated. His arms were left numb, yet he was able to register the jolt to his shoulder. If he had to keep this up, his shoulder would surely be black and blue by the end of the night.

Still hearing a moan in front of him, he looked down to see that he had managed to blow the man's leg clean off, yet the man still crawled after him as if nothing had happened.

Gunshots erupted from his left and he saw Miranda fire a few wild shots into the crowd, both catching an elderly lady who was only knocked a few steps backward. Eric followed up by pumping a round into the woman's frail form, obliterating the area where her neck had been and dropping her for good.

"These fuckers are getting closer!" the college student cried as he fired a shell into the face of a tall zombie that had gotten close enough to reach over the trunk of the car against the building, spraying wet brain matter and bone fragments all over a zombified postal worker who advanced behind it. It was now Miranda's turn to assist him as she reached across and fired a round into the worker's already collapsing face.

"Tell us something we don't already know Einstein!" Lenny hissed from the back, standing next to Alyssa and Carl, all of them with melee weapons raised and ready to strike at any second.

By now the zombies were practically on top of them, applying enough pressure to the stationary cruisers to rock them with all their weight. More were starting to reach across the hoods of the two cars and claw away malevolently at their victims. The glass of a rear passenger window shattered as a zombie punched its fist through and clawed its way inside, forcing Pete and Ian to leap back in terror. In a desperate move, the former fired a round through the glass, decorating the car's interior with its innards.

Jake let out a loud grunt as he felt a cold, bony hand wrap its fingers around his shoe. He looked down to see a pale, scabbed hand trying to drag him underneath the patrol car and the head of a woman stick out as she let out a frustrated moan. Wrenching his foot free from her grasp, he reached down into his shin holster and pulled out his combat knife. Positioning the glistening blade so it pointed downward, he jabbed it through her ear as she turned her head to the side, ending her struggle for good.

"Shit, they're coming from underneath!" Mark cried as another slithered in from underneath. Bringing his foot up, he stomped on his would-be attacker's skull and did it again until he was rewarded with a sick squishing sound.

Glass shattered and the hitman looked beyond the wall of attackers to see that the front windows of J's Bar had been broken from the inside. Pairs of decaying arms reached out and one by one, more zombies began pulling themselves outside. Perhaps they were able to hear the sounds of the struggle outside and had managed to shamble their way back downstairs. It only meant more trouble for the ragtag group.

"Get back!" Raymond shouted as he noticed more sets of decaying hands reaching out from underneath. One of the zombies had managed to nearly make it across, until the veteran fired a round that destroyed its spinal cord.

"Go to hell fuckface!" Eric cried as he shot another approaching zombie in the collarbone area, close enough to snap its head off to the side and leave it held on only by a few strips of rotting flesh. He fired a few more rounds into the zombies who now reached over for him until his shotgun clicked empty.

Desperate to remain in the fight, he fished into his pocket and scooped up a handful of shells and started jamming them one by one into the empty chamber. He sighed in relief as he loaded the last one and with a natural motion pumped the gun's action. Before he could resume his fight, a cold hand suddenly wrapped around his ankle and yanked him to the ground, his shotgun clattering to the concrete outside of his reach.

A hideous bald-headed zombie awaited him as he fell onto his bottom and was quickly yanked onto his back.

"Let go!" he screamed while struggling to shake his foot away, but his attacker ignored him and pulled it closer towards a mouthful of chipped teeth. Lifting his free foot into the air he flailed away before it brushed against the creature's bloodied face. Having felt its position, he drew his foot back and launched the sole of his shoe into its face, hard enough to break its nose in several places.

His troubles wouldn't end there as another zombie appeared, gnashing its yellow teeth in anticipation of a fresh meal.

"_Holy shit," _he thought, _"these things are going to eat me whole. These sick bastards will tear me apart limb by limb as I scream bloody murder." _Images of himself being torn open and his blood spilling out onto the street soon came to mind.

One of his first instincts had been not only to call out for help, but also to find a suitable handhold. The concrete he laid on had been smoothly paved, leaving nothing for him to grab a hold of.

"_I can't give up though. I've gotta make these freaks work for their meal," _he told himself.

Summoning up some might, he had managed to shake one of his feet free and stomp on one of the zombies' hands hard enough to break its fingers, but yet another hand had grabbed onto his calf and pulled him forth. He could now feel the cool steel of the cruiser's undercarriage rubbing against his legs, telling him that they were about to pull him under.

"Help me over here!" he finally cried out, feeling the pain of his muscles being stretched as the zombies pulled away frantically at him. Death would be inevitable and he regretted not being able to put up a greater fight as he stole another glance at his shotgun.

Miranda had taken notice of Eric's predicament and rushed over to aid him, but she was a lone woman against three or four zombies. Still, the man needed assistance and she was in no mood for losing a newfound friend anytime soon.

"Eric!" he heard a feminine voice call out and then the most wonderful feeling in the world as two warm hands, the hands of a living person, grabbed him underneath his arms and tried to pull him backwards, but was having a hard time doing it.

"Miranda, don't let go!" he pleaded as he dug his palms into the concrete, trying to pull himself back, but was losing ground fast.

More gunshots sounded from nearby and she looked up to see Jake firing a couple rounds into some zombies who had latched onto the flashers of the squad car above them. He had saved her from certain doom in the bar and hoped he could be of assistance again.

"Jake, help me!" she screamed as she could feel Eric slipping away from her grasp.

The hitman's head perked up as he was alerted by the woman's screams and looked over to see her fighting an uphill battle as she struggled to keep the zombies from pulling Eric underneath the squad car in front of them. Nobody deserved the horrible death that awaited him and he holstered his gun to go over and assist her.

Grunting in pain, the college student could only curse bitterly as Miranda and the zombies had a virtual tug of war trying to pull him to either side. He could feel his ribs almost being crushed as the young woman wrapped her arms around his upper torso, doing everything she could to pull him back. However, he could feel her grip loosening and he paled at the thought of himself becoming a midnight snack.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of stronger, masculine hands grab onto him and with a great heave, he could feel the grip of the undead breaking until finally their pale, decaying fingers held him no more.

Jake and Miranda fell backwards onto the pavement with Eric falling on top of them. The three survivors had to stop and catch their breath for a moment before returning to their feet and the young woman handed him back his shotgun.

"You okay, bro'?" Jake asked, shouting to be heard above the moans and gunfire.

"I'm fine," he replied with an uncertain gaze that displayed the intimidation he still held for the man, "thank you."

"No problem, Red," the hitman replied, cracking an uncharacteristic smile, which would quickly return to his typical look of grim aggression, "Get back!"

The two young people fell back as a zombie had managed to climb all the way over the cruiser and fall before them with a sick thud, only to die a second later as the hitman drew his foot back and kicked the creature hard enough to snap its neck.

Jake looked around to see that Alyssa, Cindy, Yoko, Jim and Carl had all been preoccupied with fighting the zombies, while Lenny still cowered in a corner clutching his wooden pole for dear life.

"_I'm gonna have to have a few words with that prick when I get some free time," _the hitman thought to himself, remaining focused on the threat at hand.

The remaining zombies were struggling to crawl across the vehicles blocking their path and were on the verge of making it over. Firing desperately into the decaying masses, spent bullet and shell casings blanketed the tarmac, a testament to the survivors' struggle. It was a struggle that was being quickly lost though.

"We've gotta get out of here!" Arthur shouted to everybody, by now having pulled out his nightstick to beat away the attackers. With an unexpected speed, one of the zombies launched itself across the hood of a cruiser and tackled him to the ground. Before he could put up a struggle, the monster was already biting into his shoulder.

"Get away from him!" Ian shouted raising his gun to fire, only to be tackled from behind by another zombie that had managed to clear the barricade. The pistol was still in his hand and discharged as he hit the ground, catching Pete in the stomach.

The officer sunk to the ground in agony, clutching his stomach and crying in anguish. So preoccupied had everybody become with him they had nearly forgotten about Ian, who had been killed instantly as the zombie severed his jugular.

"Damn you!" Cody cried and fired a round into the back of the zombie's head, but it was too late. Another one of his old friends from the force had perished and now another was grievously wounded.

"He's bleeding pretty badly, we've gotta get him out of here!" Alec said.

"To where?" Kevin asked, dropping another zombie that had attempted to climb across the hood of the cruiser, "You heard what McGraw said, Raccoon General has gone under lockdown!"

"Well it's all we've got," Alec replied as Cindy rushed over and handed him a mixed herb from her case, "We could take him over to St. Malachi's, but that's all the way across the city and we don't have that much time. I guess we'll just have to be the backup they need. That place should have a back door they can get us in through," he explained as he rubbed liquids from the herb on the fresh wound.

George had taken notice of the wounded officer's predicament, but was caught up in his own dilemma.

A crash sounded from the apartment complex next to him and he turned to be met by another small group of zombies. The leader of the pack was dressed in a paramedic's uniform that he recognized as being from his own hospital's and for some reason the man almost seemed familiar at first, but he couldn't tell for sure due to half of the former human's face having been ripped away.

For the first time all night, the doctor had pulled out the makeshift flamethrower given to him by David. Operating on adrenaline, he depressed the trigger and a loud "whoosh" sounded as a jet of flame shot towards the oncoming group, surprising him with its power to the point he almost dropped it. A loud hiss followed as the flames ate away at the approaching threats, but yet they continued to press onward even while ablaze. It took the combined effort of Kevin, Alec and Raymond to drop all of the zombies for good.

"Man…" Alec said next to him, staring at the flamethrower in awe. He had known it was possible to make such a contraption, but never before had he actually seen one in action up close.

George stared at the smoldering corpses, unable to believe he had been forced into such a position. He was trained to be a medical doctor, dedicated to treating the sick and curing their troubles, one best kept away from the battlefield. Now, he was on the frontlines of a full-scale catastrophe, something too great to have been just a simple "riot." The aggressors had once been ordinary citizens with lives, loves and bright futures, aspects of a normal life that were no more. They had become mindless, ravenous beasts driven by an endless hunger. What could have caused such a thing was far beyond even his studious mind.

"Come on; let's get him to the car!" Kevin spoke as he put Pete's arm around his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. The wounded man cried out in agony, which quickly reduced to a throaty gurgle as Cody took his other arm and they led him over to the already blood-drenched cruiser facing away from the chaos.

Again David and Mark provided cover as Cody was closest and opened the back door, sliding his wounded friend into the backseat. Alec hopped into the driver's seat and started up the car, Raymond rushing over to appear at his side.

"What are you doing?" the veteran asked as more zombies continued to approach, "If you leave now you're going to break up our barricade and those things will get through!"

"We don't have much choice right now," Alec replied, "this man has been wounded and will die. From the sound of things, there won't be any paramedic units to call to the scene!"

"And I'm going with them!" Cody piped up, "Pete's a friend of mine and I wanna make sure he's okay in the end."

Raymond looked uneasily back and forth between the two men and then over to Kevin, who offered them an assuring nod, telling them that he supported their decision. Before he could speak up, another chorus of hollow moans filled the air and they were coming from behind them this time!

Those who hadn't been focusing on the zombies in front of them turned to see another group of zombies marching towards them, this one even larger than the last. A row of wrecked cars and police barricades stood between them and judging by the luck they had with the other barricade, it would be only minutes before they would be overrun.

Unnoticed by his colleagues, Raymond had run over and fought frantically to open the set of double doors.

"Oh god, they're getting closer! We gotta go now!" he shouted, struggling with a chain that had already been tied in place.

"Get out of here, quick!" Kevin shouted with a slap on the cruiser's roof. Alec only nodded in reply and peeled down the street, fishtailing to avoid several of the zombies that had stepped into view.

After some initial struggle, Raymond had finally managed to get the doors opened and was waving everybody in.

"Come on, get in here now!" he shouted and the others began racing through. Jake was about to follow them in, until he took another look down to Ian Sachs' corpse.

The deceased officer laid face down in an obscenely large pool of blood that almost appeared too much for one human being. All of the muscles in his neck had been severed and the bones of his neck gleamed brightly in the artificial glow of the streetlights above. He still clutched his gun in a blood soaked hand, which caught the hitman's attention.

"Jake, are you coming or not?" Kevin called out as he was about to run through the set of double doors.

"Just a second!" the hitman shouted back and reached down to pry the gun from the officer's cold, dead hand and searched him to find two additional magazines. With his fresh recovery he then ran through the doors to join the others. Both Kevin and David were there to slam the doors shut behind him and then slip the latch back into place.

"That won't hold them for long, we've gotta keep moving!" Raymond called out from the other side.

Jake had now found himself in a trash-filled alley, where the others stood around panting heavily in exhaustion.

"Well then what the hell are we stopping for?" Lenny impatiently squawked.

"Maybe because some people need to take a breather after fighting an entire swarm of God knows what, you jackass!" Alyssa gasped, buckled over with her hands resting on her knees, her sweat-soaked hair hanging limply in front of her.

From out of nowhere, Jake got in the office worker's face and now had a chance to vent his frustrations.

"You know you could have helped you chicken shit loser!" Jake hollered getting in the cowardly man's face and grabbing him by the collar, tossing him hard against the wall behind him. A tense silence followed as he glared hatefully at the man, "Man, I can tell you're a fucking pansy when even that Jim fellow will step up to fight before you do!"

Some of the others had plopped down onto the steps of a nearby stoop, while Carl and Eric reclined on its concrete railing. Mark in particular was suffering from the effects of overexertion as he gagged heavily while bracing himself against a graffiti-lined wall, George having to go over and check up on him to make sure he wouldn't be in the earliest stages of a heart attack.

"Damn, looks like there's going to be no easy way to get past this," Raymond muttered, staring down another set of double doors and pumping his shotgun. "I'll just have to make my own way!"

The shatter of glass resounded in the small alley as one of the tenement's windows was smashed open behind Alyssa and from out of the darkness, a bloody nude woman collapsed to the ground before her. It was only through sheer reflexes that the reporter had managed to back step and avoid being cut by any of the falling shards or knocked down by the force of the woman's body. Everybody had been jolted by the crash and stared warily at the woman.

"Is she?" Yoko asked, slowly backing away as she stared uneasily at the woman's prone form.

A muted moan answered the student's inquiry as the woman slowly pushed herself back to her feet, her milky white eyes piercing through the veil of bloody blonde hair that obscured much of her visage. Right away her sights were set on the reporter before her and she lunged forward.

Alyssa cried out in surprise and fell backwards as the zombie made its attack, the vicious wounds on her throat and shoulder now clearly visible and still gushing fresh blood. Turning over onto her hands and knees, she attempted to retreat, only to find the tall, imposing form of Jake right behind her with his gun raised. With another squeeze of his trigger, the former human collapsed and never got back up again.

Panting heavily from her recent scare, she offered no resistance as the dark-clad man helped her back to her feet and then placed a gun into her hand.

"Take it," Jake said closing her fingers around it and then got close to whisper in her ear, "I got it from one of those cops outside. I don't think he'll need it anymore." He then pulled out some additional magazines from his pocket, "You might need these too."

"Thank you," the reporter muttered, but was cut off before she could say anything else.

More hollow moans sounded and more windows shattered as fresh adversaries converged upon them.

"Damn, these things must be able to smell us wherever we go!" Eric shouted as he readied his shotgun for another skirmish.

"Get those doors open!" Kevin shouted over his shoulder, slapping a fresh clip into his .45.

"Hold on damn it," Raymond replied and raised his shotgun, "Stand back!" he ordered to those nearby.

A round of buckshot was fired point blank into the doors, slightly splintering the ancient wood.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," the veteran officer grunted. He turned to address the other survivors, "This might take a while. Hold those damned things off while I open this thing!"

"Well it better be damned fast!" Mark shouted back as more zombies began spilling out of the shattered windows, a few even crawling through small ducts at the sides of the double doors they had entered through.

Raymond said nothing and continued pumping round after round into the large wooden frame until he heard the sound he definitely didn't want to.

CLICK!

"Oh shit! Why now of all times?" he grumbled aloud trying not to panic as he reached into his pockets, clambering for any additional shells he might be carrying. A sigh of relief came as his fingers brushed against the cool steel of some extra shells and then began jamming them into the chamber as fast as he could.

Yet another zombie fell backwards with a large gaping hole in the center of its forehead, followed by another and then another, all dispatched in the same manner as their human opponents fired upon them.

Jake, Mark, David and now Alyssa fired away at the new flock of zombies piling in, while Kevin and Eric provided the additional muscle with their shotguns. The monsters kept coming in at a rapid pace that constantly had them backing themselves further towards the wall until they were almost touching Raymond, the booms of his shotgun threatening to deafen them.

KRAA-AAKKK!!!

The two gigantic doors finally splintered open with an audible crack after taking an entire case's worth of buckshot. Smiling at his effort, the veteran officer felt a temporary sense of elation at his accomplishment, but it was short lived for he still had a job to do. He still had to get these survivors to safety and fast.

"Come on! We have to go now!" he cried kicking the doors open and then waving for the others to run through.

"Fuck these freaks! Let's move!" Kevin called out, emptying what was left of his latest .45 clip into the head of an oncoming zombie and then kicking another backwards into a swarm of its oncoming brethren. The survivors began falling back towards the newly opened doors still firing at the relentless zombies behind them.

Jake fired what was left of his current clip into the horde before whirling on his heel to retreat with the others. He normally didn't run from a fight, especially since he still had much aggression he wanted to take out on these freaks in particular, but knew he had no other choice. At this rate his ammo would soon run out and these things would overpower and eat him if he strayed too far from the group. Mentally kicking himself, he continued after the others.

Author's Note: Like I said, I really stepped things up a notch and it's only going to get better from here on out. Once again, read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	6. Ch 5: Going For a Ride

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: This is my latest offering and it turned out to be a lot longer than I thought it would be, so I had to work around things a bit. Originally meant to be a rewrite of my "Things Go Boom in the Night" chapter, I will admit that I've changed things around here a bit, and in the end it was much longer than I anticipated, so I've had to split things in half. Nonetheless, I'm confident that I will still have enough material for my next chapter. Now, on with the story!

Chapter 5: Going For a Ride

The ravenous zombies nipped away at his heels as Jake ran down another darkened alley, knocking over trashcans, crates and any other large objects he could to slow their advance.

"Come on, kid!" Raymond called out again, standing near an iron gate with his shotgun raised while Lenny passed through.

Stopping to knock over some wooden barrels filled with expired food, the hitman turned on his heel and bolted through the gate. Grabbing the shovel Alyssa had carried, the officer slid it through the handles to bolt it shut.

"Okay, that probably won't hold them for long, but it's better than nothing," he said, lifting his cap to wipe away some sweat from his wrinkled forehead.

"Well we'd better not wait around for too long," Kevin replied, "There's no telling how much longer Dorian will be waiting for us."

Jake noticed how the cop was beginning to take in his surroundings and he too began looking around. The group was now in a courtyard surrounded by rickety wooden fencing on all sides, looking like it could easily be broken through if they were approached by another large group. Furthermore, all the clutter left them confined to a close space, consisting of a few empty oil drums where fires still burnt, the charred frames of long abandoned automobiles, and even a few crudely constructed shanties that may have housed members of the city's homeless population.

"Well we really need to keep moving now," Alyssa spoke, shuddering at the filth which surrounded her, a far cry from her clean, nicely furnished uptown apartment.

"For once I agree with you, Toots," Lenny added, nearly gagging as he inhaled the fumes of a nearby mattress that reeked of alcohol and vomit.

"Call me 'Toots' again and I'll be getting some free target practice on your-" the reporter pointed her gun threateningly at the office worker, only to stop as Mark placed a hand on her gun.

"People, please!" he barked in an authoritative tone, forcing Alyssa to lower her gun.

Jake wandered around the small quarters, followed closely by Carl and Yoko, the latter of whom searched for anything of use to shove into her backpack. He doubted there would be much for her to find, but left her to continue her search undisturbed.

"So…bet you must be second guessing your travel plans now, huh?" the sanitation worker said next to him.

The hitman said nothing at first, only staring oddly at the man. He listened to the background noises around them, only hearing the crackling of flames and the blowing of the wind. It was eerie, far too eerie, and he could tell the man probably wanted to break the tension.

"You don't know the half of it," Jake retorted as his gaze focused on the shanty before him. It consisted of a few boxes placed haphazardly on top of each other, a jagged piece of sheet metal serving as the roof and a tattered blanket that served as a "door" to the very humble abode.

"I know," Carl said as he noticed the hitman's fixation, "Everything Umbrella has done for this city's economy and we still have a problem with the homeless."

Jake let out a low growl at the mention of the pharmaceutical conglomerate. He said nothing, beginning to sniff the air as a familiar scent attacked his nostrils.

"Warren is too soft on those lazy scamps if you ask me," Lenny cut in, referencing the city's long serving mayor, "They're all over the downtown area now. Guess that's what you get when you have a soup kitchen in your city."

The hitman said nothing in reply and raised a hand to silence both men. "Carl, give me your axe now," he demanded, keeping his focus trained on the shanty.

Carl stared warily at the shanty from behind him, knowing the man meant business.

"Uh yeah, sure," the sanitation worker replied and quickly placed his fire axe in the hitman's outstretched hand.

With the axe in hand, Jake pulled the blanket back and was instantly assaulted by a cloud of flies and an overbearing stench that forced him to stick his head back outside for a few seconds. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the blanket back again and looked down to the mattress that took up the shack's entire space.

On the already heavily-stained mattress laid the body of a vagrant with shaggy red hair and a scraggly beard with streaks of gray. He had worn a filthy olive drab combat jacket now soiled by gallons of blood. The man's chest had been torn open and where several vital organs should have been, there was nothing.

_"Could he?" _the hitman pondered to himself, wondering if the man would still be able to come back with several organs missing.

Through all the grime that had blackened the man's face, he had still managed to make out the twitches on the man's face, followed by the pure white of glossed over eyes that had penetrated the blackness.

Jake said nothing as the man let out a weak moan, bringing the axe down into the center of his face. A loud crack sounded, followed by a large splat as brain matter and other miscellaneous bloody chunks splashed around the cramped quarters.

"What was that?" Eric called out from the front, standing near a moldy old couch near the front gate.

"Nothing, just a little loose end that needed to be dealt with," the hitman replied. As he turned around, he brought the bloody fire axe into view, fresh chunks still dripping from it. The others could only gasp in shock at the sight and Carl was visibly reluctant to reclaim the axe as Jake presented it to him.

"What? It's not like that's going to be the last time it has to be used tonight," Jake whispered to the sanitation worker, having to force the axe back into his hands.

_"That guy's a fucking maniac!" _Lenny thought to himself, _"Able to kill a hobo like that without flinching? Give me a break! Christ, I'm not even that inhuman to do such a thing to one of those lazy drunks."_

Without warning, the loud buzz of a motor filled the air and the brittle fencing to his right exploded, nearly crushing himself, Carl and Yoko as boards were sent flying at high velocity.

Jake found himself thrown to the ground as a crotch rocket motorcycle came crashing through the fence and collided with the sofa, sending its driver flying into the air and colliding head first with a discarded television set on the opposite side of the yard. With everybody else transfixed on the surely dead cyclist, the hitman finally took notice of the moans and turned to see what the man had been fleeing from.

Yet another throng of zombies made their march towards the small courtyard, the ever present air of remorseless bloodlust hanging over them. More windows and doors of surrounding buildings broke down as more joined them.

"Oh my god, what are we going to do?" Jim squawked, tripping over an old milk crate and nearly taking David down with him.

"For starters, we can remain calm!" the irritated plumber snapped, snatching up a discarded piece of concrete that had fallen out of the crate.

"Kevin, come on! We have to get the others moving!" Raymond shouted and kicked open the nearby gate.

"Everybody, get to the gate now!" Kevin shouted, firing a blast into the face of a zombie that had attempted to force its way through a crack in the fence.

Once again everything was rapidly turning into sheer pandemonium. Jake stood near Yoko with his gun raised; she had been too frightened to move after what she was witnessing.

"Yoko, you have to move! Hurry!" Carl shouted, nudging her with his boot. After prodding her enough, she finally started crawling away; George and Eric quickly helped her back to her feet. In an almost involuntary manner, she scooped up another fallen piece of concrete and chucked it into the oncoming horde, striking a zombified bicycle messenger hard enough in its unprotected face to send it sagging to the ground.

Jake fired into the crowd and was soon joined by Mark, Alyssa and Miranda, dropping whoever they could. They fought together until Miranda's gun clicked empty and she was forced to retreat. The wave of undead still pressed forth with the unforgiving force of a tsunami.

"Forget about them and come on!" Kevin shouted, approaching the horde and firing a few blasts hoping to slow them down somewhat.

A few of the zombies emerging from the surrounding buildings had now begun to further tear away the opening created by the crashed motorcycle, breaking down rickety boards and piling into the confined yard.

Carl didn't want to do it at first, but the hitman had made a valid point at these things pressing forth relentlessly. With a mighty heave, he swung the axe and caught one of the attackers in the throat, nearly decapitating it. A larger zombie had attempted to take a swipe at him, but the sanitation worker sidestepped its attack and drove his axe into the back of its head. The blade had become stuck and he was forced to push the dead zombie off with his foot.

Behind him Lenny was slowly being driven backwards as some of the attackers had begun to converge upon him and one had made a dive for him. Out of desperation he raised the pole he had been armed with; the zombie bit down on it and chipped its teeth.

"Get away!" he screamed as another had attempted to take a swipe at him, only to stumble flat on its face as he leapt backward. Not too far away, he could now see Carl swinging away more of the zombies, one of which had managed to slice a chunk out of his exposed forearm. A sudden tugging caught his attention and he looked down to see the zombie that had missed was grabbing onto him and trying to bite into his calf.

"Help me damn it!" the office worker screamed as he struggled to shake his foot away and had now fallen backward.

A wet crack sounded and Lenny opened his eyes to see Carl standing over him, having driven his axe into the back of the zombie's head.

"Come on, we've gotta get out of here!" the sanitation worker said, helping him back to his feet.

A loud moan sounded and he turned to find five zombies that were just inches away from grabbing him.

"Shit!" was all Carl muttered and he grabbed Lenny, by the arm trying to drag him away. Some of his blood had fallen onto the terrified office worker and the man instantly freaked out.

"Get away from me!" Lenny screamed and with his mightiest heave, shoved his savior into the pack of oncoming zombies, who wasted no time biting into him.

"Carl!!!" Cindy hollered in fright as she watched the zombies systematically envelope him until he was no longer visible.

Jake raised his gun to fire, but it was too late. By now Carl Jenks would have been too far gone. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lenny Bryce squeezing his way through one of the cracks and making a break for it down the opposite alley.

"Lenny, get your fucking ass back here!!!" he hollered and again raised his gun, but felt a powerful set of arms pulling him back.

"Let him go!" Mark hollered into his ear, "That cowardly bastard has already sealed his own fate!"

Jake looked towards where Lenny had escaped to and then back to the mass of zombies congregating over Carl's fresh corpse. The security guard was right, they were better off without that craven fool Lenny, but now he was mad for not being able to punish that man himself.

_"I should've put a bullet in that fucker's skull when I had the chance. Then again, that would've been too quick and painless for him!"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lenny Bryce sprinted down the alley as quickly as his legs would take him. All he could hear was the moaning around him and that was it. Those freaks were unstoppable with their massive numbers and those dimwitted morons weren't doing anything to help him out.

As far as he was concerned, they could be left to their own devices. He was only worried about saving his own skin right now.

He had come to a two way junction and was unsure of where to go. Right now he could only base his decision on what way sounded safer to him, and to his left he couldn't hear any moans. Without any spare time left, he had to move on.

Racing down the dimly-lit alley at breakneck speed, everything became a blur. Where he would go, he didn't know. He started to doubt whether his own apartment would be safe or not, or even his parents house on the outskirts of town.

All he knew was that he had to get somewhere period, being on the streets was suicide. He had seen what those things had done to those officers outside of J's Bar and seriously doubted going to the R.P.D. building would be a good choice or not.

His progress was suddenly halted as he nearly collided with a five foot tall blue steel barricade that bore the words "PROPERTY OF THE RACCOON POLICE DEPARTMENT."

"Son of a bitch! Goddamn pigs!" he shouted to no one in particular and angrily kicked some dirt onto the barricade.

CRASH!!!

A steel door behind him was suddenly knocked open and four zombies came staggering out, all raising their arms as soon as they laid eyes upon him.

"No!" Lenny cried as he tried to duck under the closest zombie, only to have it tear a chunk out of his polo shirt. Another stood there dumbly and he quickly raced past it.

_"I have to get out of here!" _his mind screamed and he suddenly took notice of a side route he hadn't noticed before. With a labored huff, he nearly staggered as an empty wooden pallet almost fell onto him.

Running further down the alley, he spotted a beaten up door covered in weathered fliers at the end.

_"Please be open!" _he silently begged and kept running, until he slipped and went flying into the air.

A loud crack sounded as he landed awkwardly on his side. Intense pain had now crippled his body and he struggled to sit up, feeling most of the pain coming from his right leg. Looking to the ground he lay upon, the office worker's eyes widened as he took notice of what had caused his spill.

He was lying in a large pool of blood and his clothes were heavily stained. When he found the source, he let out another loud scream.

A body lay slumped against a dumpster, the victim of a savage gang attack. The unknown individual's face had been completely destroyed and only crimson tatters of flesh remained. Also present were several severe wounds inflicted to its neck, shoulders, upper arms and right side of its chest.

As his eyes continued to travel, Lenny was able to make out a faint glimmer underneath several streaks of dried blood. Upon further inspection, his blood chilled as he recognized it was a police badge and clenched in the victim's left hand was a gun.

The moans again distracted the fallen man and he looked up in horror to realize the zombies had finally caught up to him.

"No!" he again cried and tried to get up, but his leg moved the other way and he was unable to move. "Oh god no…"

Another crash came from behind and Lenny turned around to see the door behind him now opened, only to reveal another group of hungry zombies with their eyes set upon him.

_"The gun!" _he suddenly thought to himself.

Pushing himself towards the dead officer, he reached out and kept inching himself further until he felt the cool steel on his fingertips. Rolling over onto his stomach, he freed both hands for the task of prying the gun from the dead man's cold hands, desperate as the zombies were getting closer.

"Come on, come on!" he loudly whispered, fighting to free the pistol. Lenny was so distracted by the others that he barely registered any movement from the supposedly "dead" cop, who suddenly came to life and clamped down on his wrist.

"What?" was all Lenny managed to get out as the zombie sunk its teeth into his forearm. He could only scream out as the pain shot up his arm and watched in horror as blood gushed out when he finally freed himself from the zombie's grip. By now, the others had approached and were kneeling over him.

"Oh no! No!!!" he pitifully hollered, but it was no use and it was then his mind began to scream its last thoughts.

_"Not like this! Please, not like this!"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They had him surrounded.

Officer Raymond Douglas stood still in horror as a horde of ravenous zombies flanked him from all sides with decaying limbs outstretched, hoping to tackle him to the ground and eat him alive. It was a price to pay for dropping his guard. As soon as he had blown another set of double doors open, more zombies had emerged from the shadows and quickly moved in for the kill.

The veteran officer had been seeing these creatures around all hours of the day and still had not become used to their vacant stares. He wanted to scream at the freaks to back off, but now knew from experience that these monsters could not listen to reason and would attack without remorse. Preoccupied with getting the survivors to safety, he had forgotten about his very own.

The survivors!

Through the mass of rotting flesh, Raymond had spotted Kevin and the others gathered near the canal, all staring nervously at what was occurring.

"Raymond, come on! You've got to get out of here now!" Kevin shouted to his friend.

At first the older man did not respond, caught in a daydream as he thought of how he had watched his colleague evolve over the years, from a brash rookie into a noble, trustworthy ally, and then on to his wife Clara and two children, taking great solace that none of them were in the city right now. Looking towards the zombies, he knew that he was going to die.

Snapping out of his trance, he pumped his Remington and aimed for his first target. If he was going to go down, he would go down fighting and take as many of these undead pricks as he could with him, before they could ruin other peoples' lives.

"Come get me you sick rotting bastards!" he growled, pulling the trigger.

A loud boom echoed above all the moans as the officer fired a point blank round into one of the zombies' stomachs, severing its spinal column and sending it sagging to the pavement. Quickly pumping the shotgun again, he fired another round into an approaching monstrosity, obliterating two-thirds of its head and then quickly fired into an elderly zombie, punching a large hole where its face should have been. With an exhausted grunt, he fired his gun again and took out another attacker. He suddenly remembered the survivors again and turned to face Kevin.

"Raymond, forget about them! We have to go now or they'll kill us all!" Kevin shouted, withdrawing his Colt .45 and raising it to eye level, ready to fire until he was stopped by George.

"Don't, you'll hit Raymond!" the doctor intervened, prompting Mark and David to hold him back as well.

"Let me go," Kevin protested, "I have to help him! He's a fellow officer!"

Raymond saw how the younger officer fought to try and help him. It made him feel good inside to know he had touched the younger man enough to the point where he would try to save him. However, he knew the man's efforts would be in vain and would surely get himself killed as well.

"Look, you should go now!" the veteran officer called out, "Get the survivors to safety Kevin, don't worry about me! My life is over, just worry about them!" He brought the gun's stock up to strike another zombie in the jaw, hard enough to snap its neck, and continued fighting away until he suddenly recognized the fuel tanker that had been parked in the alley.

It was another lapse in concentration that would greatly cost him. A persistent zombie tackled him to the ground and forced itself upon him with its teeth bared.

Raymond cried in frustration as he struggled with the decaying beast, while at the same time trying not to cave in to its foul breath. "Bastard!" he grunted, using his remaining strength to force the zombie's face upward, hoping to create enough space where he could call out.

"That's a fuel tanker! Leak the gas, use it to burn these bastards…AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH!!!"

The zombie wrestling with Raymond had finally sunk its teeth into the back of the officer's neck as he called out to the survivors, forever silencing his screams. As the officer died, he laid his silver lighter out in front of him.

"RAYMOND!!!" Kevin cried in rage, raising his shotgun and firing in the direction of the zombies, dropping several, but only managing to actually kill one or two. "Die you rotting freaks!" he shouted, trying to rush over into the zombies' direction as they knelt down and began to feast on the older officer's remains.

"Kevin, get a hold of yourself!" Mark shouted as he fought to restrain the young man. George, David and Eric all had to join the struggle to hold the man back, fearing for his safety. The officer grunted and cursed profusely as the four men tried their best to restrain him, but his drive to avenge his fallen comrade was too strong and he didn't plan on leaving without exacting some revenge first.

"I ought to kick your fucking ass for holding me back!" Kevin shouted in George's face, "He'd still be alive if you didn't hold me back!"

The officer continued to thrash violently until a gloved fist connected with his jaw and sent him falling to the ground.

"Listen to the man and get a hold of yourself!" David roared as he rubbed his sore fist, "That man sacrificed himself for us; he wanted you to live so you could get us out of here!"

Jake stood impassively to the side as he watched the other men struggle to restrain the enraged officer. The women were also pleading for Kevin to forget about Officer Douglas and to come on before the zombies got a hold of him and ate him alive. Jim as usual stood off to the side, forcing himself to look away from the horrible feast that took place before them.

The hitman totally understood the officer's fury at what had just occurred. He himself had to be held back once when a corrupt police officer savagely murdered one of his close friends after a high-scale job he pulled off a few years back. Eventually tracking down and killing the man, he had heard of how the man's colleagues would stop at nothing to bring him down, oblivious to their colleague's shady dealings. They had all wanted him dead just as this officer wanted those zombies dead for murdering his colleague. On the other hand, he too was able to empathize from his own situation.

Jake observed the atrocity taking place and the surrounding area when he spotted a glimmering silvery object lying amongst the mass of torn flesh and blood that immediately caught his attention.

A lighter!

The hitman recalled what the officer had said and quickly plotted out a strategy he would use. He looked over and saw the other men still fought to hold Kevin back and then looked towards Jim and the ladies.

Jim may have been a bit cowardly, but he looked to be in good physical condition, and possibly very quick on his feet. Cindy was too poorly armed to be of any major assistance and didn't come across as much of a fighter type anyway. Yoko was also poorly armed for this situation, but her smaller size would make it more difficult for the zombies to catch her. Miranda was out of ammo for her gun and aside from her weapon, didn't appear too physically capable of taking down a zombie. Alyssa on the other hand, still carried her gun and appeared much more adept with her weapon than Miranda. She could provide some useful backup for the plan he was about to hatch.

He looked down to the college student, whom he dwarfed by an entire foot, "Yoko, get ready. I have an idea," he shouted to the young woman, who gave him a confused stare in return. "When I tell you to, run over to the fuel tanker and release the gas onto the street. I'm going to try and grab that officer's lighter and I'm gonna need your help. Got it?"

Yoko still stared at him in confusion. _"Is this man crazy?" _she thought to herself.

She could tell by the mysterious man's determined stare that he was serious about doing this and wondered why he would pick her of all people. Knowing herself to be too poorly armed to fight back if the zombies came at her, with her small size she would be easily overwhelmed. At the same time though, she felt a small surge of confidence because she had watched Jake handle small groups of zombies all by himself with little or no problem. She hoped he could possibly take all the creatures by himself. Returning a slow, nervous nod, she let him know she was in.

Jake then looked over to Alyssa, who had been listening in, "Alyssa, you seem to be a pretty good shot. I'll need you to back me up on this one too. When I tell you, keep a safe distance and cover me. Shoot any of these fuckers that get too close for comfort," he ordered prepping his gun. The reporter returned a silent nod and readied her own pistol. It was then Jim's turn.

"Jim, it's time to make yourself useful for once," he said with his back turned, "I want you to cover us. If there are any stragglers that somehow get past us, feel free to bash their skulls in!"

"But…" the transit worker whined, only to receive a menacing glare from the bigger man.

Raising his gun, Jake fired a round into the back of one of the zombies' heads, dropping it on top of the pack that feasted upon Raymond. He then fired another round into the face of another that had turned to look at him. Glancing back to his motley crew he spoke, "Now!"

The zombies had taken notice of the shots and were beginning to divert their attention away from the veteran officer's mangled corpse. Needing to act fast, the hitman had withdrawn his extra Beretta and began firing into the pack, dropping several of the bloodied attackers in much quicker fashion. Through the hail of gunfire, one attacker in a blue and black plaid shirt had somehow managed to avoid the bullets. Only a second later, the thing fell dead with a bullet to the skull.

Alyssa stood behind him with her smoking gun in hand, giving him a quick wink. Returning a brief grin, Jake returned his attention to the zombies and splattered another's brains all over its companions.

The sudden round of gunfire had also distracted the other men from their argument and putting aside their differences, began firing away at the approaching zombies, David pulling out his folding knife when his pistol ran dry.

A volley of hot lead had significantly thinned out the group, but more continued to emerge from the opening behind them. Looking down, Jake could see that he was just mere inches away from the lighter, but several zombies were still in front of him. Knowing he was low on ammo and didn't have time to reload both of his pistols, he holstered one of them and again pulled out his combat knife, assuming a close quarter combat stance.

"Time for you freaks to meet your maker," he smirked as the zombies approached. A small crowd was on the verge of surrounding him, but he was not afraid. He only stared up the competition, "Who's first?"

A medium-sized zombie in a security guard's uniform similar to that worn by Mark staggered towards him. Studying the monster's movements, Jake delivered a low kick to the thing's kneecap to collapse it, driving his blade through the former human's eye.

Pulling out the soaked blade, the hitman then drove it upward into the neck of a zombie that had been taller than him, dressed up like a stereotypical white trash farmer. Holding the squirming monster in place, he raised his gun and dropped two more zombies with perfect head shots. Shooting his foot backward, he caught another in the jaw and sent it falling back to the ground, hard enough to fracture its skull upon impact.

Jake again looked down to find the lighter lying right beneath him and probably could pick it up if he wanted to, but there were still too many zombies around to afford another lapse in concentration. Two more zombies dropped dead nearby and he watched as Alyssa handled herself remarkably well against the creatures. More gunshots rang out from another direction and two additional zombies dropped dead. He looked back to see Kevin standing there firing potshots into the crowd, Mark standing right next to him and Eric creating bigger openings with his shotgun. Their intervention had bought enough time for him to complete his objective.

With the zombies pushed back a safe distance, the hitman reached down and swiped the lighter that lay inches away from the deceased cop's outstretched hand. Also present was the man's shotgun and he swiped it up.

Noticing Mark was nearby; he tossed him the shotgun, "Here!"

The lighter now in his possession, both he and Alyssa slowly proceeded to back away towards the rest of the group, some of whom continued to fight while the others waited nervously at the edge of the canal.

"Yoko now!" he shouted to the young woman, who stood idly near the tanker as he cleared out the zombies, waiting for her cue.

Responding with a nod, she gripped the heavy valve handle and with an exhausted grunt, struggled to turn it as quickly as she could with all her might. A loud moan distracted her from her task and she turned to find another large male zombie lurching after her, only to be knocked to the ground by repeated blows from a blunt object.

A breathless Jim stood victorious over the fallen zombie with bloody pipe in hand.

"Thank me later, just release that damn gas!" he panted as he nervously observed the other zombies in the distance.

Returning to her task at hand, Yoko now managed to turn the handle with greater ease and continued moving until gasoline shot out onto the street, drenching every single inch from there to the entrance.

"Come on people, let's get moving! We'll have to escape through this canal!" Kevin called out, attempting to shepherd the remaining survivors from the dangerous street. He turned to see Jake standing near the gas leak, staring intently at the zombies.

"Jake, forget about them! We have to get out of here now!" he shouted, his plea falling on deaf ears.

Raising the lighter, the hitman flicked it to life to be rewarded with a bright flame. Ready to finish the monsters off once and for all, he turned to address the officer.

"Kevin, just worry about getting the others out of here now," he replied.

"But Jake…"

"Do it!" the hitman ordered returning his attention to the zombies, "Wait for me nearby. If I'm not back within half an hour, leave!"

Kevin didn't know what to think. Being an officer of the law, he was used to being in the position of authority when dealing with civilians and it was his job to serve and protect the innocent.

To him, this Jake character claimed to be a Marine and appeared to be a skilled enough fighter, but still he was an innocent bystander who should not be kept alone during a battle of this magnitude, especially when it was one he had no idea the size of. He was left torn between his duty and his faith in another man's ability.

"Alright, but if you don't come back, I'm coming looking for you!" the officer replied and leapt in to the water to join the others.

The other survivors were now out of the way and Jake could finally do what he had been waiting for.

"_Alright you freaks, you've been touched by the icy cold hand of Death," _he thought to himself, entranced by the small dancing flame, _"now I will introduce you to the raging flames of Hell!" _and tossed the lighter into the gas leak.

Clattering loudly against the drenched concrete, a low hiss turned into a mighty roar as flames arose and rushed towards zombies continuing a mindless march to their doom. More sickly hissing resounded as the flames connected with the leathery skin of their undead victims, who struggled forth oblivious to the fire that slowly consumed them. Eventually, they seemed to melt into the ground as they were gradually reduced to ashes.

"What a rush…" Jake commented wiping away some sweat from his forehead.

His victory was short-lived as the flames continued to spread and would soon envelop the tanker he stood near.

"Oh shit!" he blurted out as he dove for the safety of the nearby stream. Time seemingly slowed down around him as the flames completely engulfed the tanker and blew it to kingdom come.

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A thunderous explosion was heard from above.

"Oh god…Jake," Miranda cried and suddenly found herself feeling weak in the knees. Thankfully Eric was there to catch her.

The other survivors remained silent and looked worriedly at each other fearing for the safety of their companion.

"Dear lord…" Cindy trailed, "do you think he's…" she struggled to hold back tears, having already seen too much death in one night. Kevin saw this and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't think about that," he spoke assuredly, "I haven't known him for long, but Jake seems like a tough enough guy who's too smart and too damned stubborn to be done in by a couple of rotting walking carcasses from what I saw back there. Let's just hope for his sake that he made it out alright."

"Should we sit here and wait for him then?" George asked, prompting a few more worried stares as the others did not want to be kept waiting in one area for too long, still remembering what had occurred when they last stopped for a breather.

"He told me to wait for half an hour," Kevin replied looking down at his watch, "If he doesn't come back by then…we move on."

"What?" Jim blurted out again, "You're telling us to just sit here and wait around with those rotting freaks running around? What the hell is wrong with you? Those things are going to sniff us out and kill us! We can't just sit here and wait! It's suicide!" the subway attendant bellowed, arousing more annoyed glances and shaken heads from the others present.

"Those things are surely going to find us if you don't shut your frickin' mouth!" David growled, forcing the man to cringe in fear.

"Yeah, I swear running around with you is like running around with a damn siren strapped to your head," Eric added, inviting a sharp glare from Mark.

"Not only that," Jim continued, in a more hushed tone this time, "I've been reading articles about complaints from other citizens, claiming to hear groans coming from underground…and we're in the sewers!" he whimpered, taking in their surroundings.

"Reading any of that fake crap written by that Bertolucci hack will get you killed for sure," Alyssa retorted, rolling her eyes. "Remember that story he wrote about that supposedly haunted mine on the outskirts of town? Well because of him, two wannabe 'ghost hunters' lost their lives!"

"Hey easy people, if we're going to make it out of this mess alive then we need to cooperate! Mutiny is the last thing we need in a situation like this," Mark called out, acting as the voice of reason. "If there's one thing I learned in the Corps, it's that we never leave a man behind. We'll need to find a place to sit tight and wait for a while. Jake is bound to show up at any second and if he's not back within half an hour like Kevin said, then we move on out

"Besides, I'm sure a lot of people here probably need some rest anyway. I don't know about you, but my dogs are barking," the guard huffed.

"I have to agree, a break would be well deserved about now," George added.

"Please let it be anywhere but here," Alyssa grunted, fighting back her urge to gag at the stench of garbage and feces dominating the underground corridor.

"Alright, let's find a manhole out of here then," Kevin said leading the way.

Rounding a corner, the group came to a dead end and found a ladder that would lead them out of the sewers. Motioning for the others to stay back, Kevin approached the ladder and listened for any possible threats. Neither screams nor moans could be heard, a hopeful sign. Withdrawing his .45, he began to slowly ascend the ladder.

Pushing the lid high enough to scan the area, he saw no immediate signs of movement, but did see a street sign telling him that they had been led straight to where they needed to be, Apple Terrace Blvd., or at least what was left of it.

"Mark, get ready to back me up," the officer ordered and pushed the lid aside, pulling himself out of the darkened sewer.

Kevin found himself standing outside the deserted Apple Inn hotel, or at least it had looked to be due to the lack of light. It appeared untouched otherwise, but the same could not be said for the rest of the area.

Several cars had been involved in a small pileup that took up much of the narrow street's space and a stoplight had been knocked over, emitting the occasional spark that left some cause for concern. A taxi had been parked hastily near the hotel's front entrance and upon further inspection, blood was found covering the inner seats, suggesting that the driver must had been attacked and attempted to flee. The combined stench of smoke from the nearby wrecks and decay hung high in the air and the ominous cawing of crows could be heard in the distance, for once replacing the guttural moans of nearby zombies.

It was another element though that would catch the officer's attention right away.

More survivors!

"Find anything?" Mark asked, peaking out from the opened manhole.

"Send the others up, it's safe," Kevin replied and ran over to the survivors.

Two men sat near the gates of the old brownstone building and appeared to be in fine physical condition, a small miracle unto itself. The first man stood staring blankly at the world in front of him. He had short red hair with a matching beard and mustache and wore a red and black plaid shirt and black jeans. The second man sat in front of the gate looking down. He had short brown hair and wore a blue shirt and gray pants. Having been the next man up after Mark, George immediately ran over to greet the two.

"Hello there, my name is George Hamilton and I'm a doctor. Has either one of you been bitten or scratched by any of those beings wandering around on the streets?" the surgeon asked, noting to himself that Dale had only become aggressive after being bitten by an attacker. For sometime now, he had been questioning whether or not if that was how this "disease" was being passed on, through being bitten or scratched by an infected individual.

The bearded man looked to the good doctor with eyes dulled by pain, speaking slow and morose tone, "I was just coming home from work and those things attacked me from out of nowhere. I feel like I'm stuck in the middle of a god awful B-movie. Please, just get me out of here alive…" he trailed off.

"My wife Margaret…" the seated man spoke, "I don't think I'll ever be able to go home to her ever again…"

Physically they seemed fine, but mentally was another story. Both men were dazed by what had been going on around them and needed to get some psychiatric counseling once this whole ordeal was over with.

A metal door opened from the nearby bakery and out came a balding, middle-aged R.P.D. officer with a megaphone in hand.

"This is the Raccoon City Police Department! Any survivors are to report to this area immediately. We ask that you please try to stay calm as there will be vehicles arriving shortly to commence evacuation. We need everyone here as quickly as possible," the officer reported.

Kevin recognized the man as fellow officer Dorian Grassley and immediately ran up to him.

"Dorian!" he called out, running up to the man and shaking his hand.

"Kevin, thank god you're still alive!" he said returning the handshake, "This entire city is becoming a damned war zone and we've already lost quite a few good men out there, not to mention that we barely have enough able-bodied officers back at the station to hold down the fort!"

"I know," Kevin replied, lowering his head, "We lost Raymond and Arthur too, plus a few others."

The older officer cursed silently before continuing, "On top of that, we've got civilians coming to us from all over the city and we don't have enough officers or supplies to protect them with, thanks to 'Fat Boy' Irons taking it upon himself to have all our ammo caches rearranged."

"Damn that pig," Kevin grunted, sinking onto the bonnet of a wrecked car, "This whole city's gone to Hell in a hand basket in just a matter of hours. I heard from McGraw and he said they had to lockdown Raccoon General because of the attacks."

"Yeah," Dorian added taking a seat next to him, "I've been hearing all over the scanner that there's already a whole ton of fires burning around the city, more than the fire department can get to."

"Anything else you know?" Kevin asked as some of the others began to gather around them. "Anything you've been hearing regarding reinforcements?"

"From what I've heard, the National Guard might be on its way, but it's hard to tell because the damn radios have been cut off to the outside," the older officer added with a sigh.

"Fuck!" Kevin spat, the others staring worriedly at Dorian.

"We've gotta get these people to safety any way we can," Kevin added, motioning to the others who stood around them.

"Believe me," Dorian spoke eying the survivors, "we're doing everything we can. For now, we might have to keep them at the station and see if we can get any of them airlifted over to the airport. We're already low on helicopters at the moment."

"By the way," Kevin cut in as he suddenly remembered, "I heard how Elliott and a few others had a whole bunch of them barricaded on Main St., you know anything about that?"

"Yeah," Dorian said nodding, "picked up his message on the scanner. They've got the whole street wired to blow."

A collective gasp sounded among the survivors and even Kevin stared at his colleague in bewilderment.

"Are you serious? They're really going to blow up all of Main Street?" the younger officer asked.

"I'm afraid so," Dorian said, again studying the gathered townspeople.

"Oh great, just great," Alyssa shouted, "How can they do this? It will make the entire street impassible! Nobody will be able to escape then!"

"We have no other choice, ma'am," the older officer replied, "These 'things' have proven too difficult for us to deal with."

Dorian stood up and turned to face Kevin again, "When the van arrives to pick up the survivors, you and I can take my squad car over to Main Street to help the others."

A loud clank suddenly sounded, followed by another and then another.

"That's coming from the sewers!" Eric shouted, rushing towards the open manhole with shotgun readied, followed closely by David, George and Miranda. The four of them approached, expecting to find either their missing friend or worse.

"Jake, is that you?" Miranda called out, hoping desperately it was the man who had already saved her twice tonight.

For several seconds there was no reply until an exhausted grunt was heard and from out of the murky darkness Jake emerged, drenched from head to toe and covered in filth, but very much alive and not appearing to be seriously injured.

"Yeah, it's me alright…" he grunted and heaved himself onto the street, "I burnt all those bastards for you guys…" he said pushing himself back to his feet, "they won't be following us again anytime soon."

"Good to know," David smirked in reply.

Jake continued to wipe dirt from his jacket and shake excess dripping water off as he followed closely behind the others. As he walked on, he suddenly took notice of the street sign and remembered what Raymond had said earlier.

The Apple Inn loomed tall over him and he stopped to stare, feeling the temptation to enter. He was so gripped by the need to gather his supplies; he barely registered his feet moving until he felt a finger tapping on his shoulder.

Turning around he was met by another officer, "Son, you need to come with me."

"I have some things in my hotel room that I need to gather," the hitman replied.

"I'm sorry, but it will have to wait. I'm under direct orders to have you shipped to safety at once," Dorian spoke and gently nudged him over to the others.

"_Damn it, I need those things!" _Jake thought to himself, _"Mr. Boy-In-Blue there would probably be thanking me if he knew the extra firepower I brought along."_

Everybody's attention was diverted beyond the car wrecks, where a black police van pulled up.

"Okay is this everybody then? Come with me please."

Kevin and Dorian both opened the back doors and motioned for the survivors to get inside. They would be riding in cramped conditions, but it would be better than nothing.

"Help me!!!"

Both officers whirled around with weapons drawn to find a blonde-haired woman in a torn pink blouse rushing towards them and in the distance, another group of zombies staggering after her.

"Come on, over here miss!" Dorian shouted to the approaching woman.

She rushed as quickly as she could, only to disappear beneath another mass of rotting flesh as the door of an apartment complex exploded from her right.

"Oh god, get everybody inside now!" the older officer ordered.

Jake again readied his pistol as more zombies entered the picture, but then suddenly took notice of several more that began to stagger from the shadows beside the apartment complex.

More importantly, he noticed a zombie that was approaching Cindy from behind and inches away from sinking its teeth into her neck.

"Cindy, behind you!" the hitman shouted and prepared to open fire, but was beaten to the punch as the waitress whirled around with her spear and caught her would-be attacker in the stomach.

The impaled zombie still thrashed away, oblivious to the knife that had been stabbed into its abdomen. Frightened by her ordeal, Cindy could only scream in terror as she was rapidly losing the test of strength, the zombie still pressing forth as the knife dug further inside of it.

Stepping up for a shot, Jake fired a round into the monster's forehead, showering the frightened waitress with bits of brain and congealed blood, forcing her to scream and flinch simultaneously.

"Come on, we have to get you out of here!" Kevin shouted to Cindy, grabbing her by the shoulders and dragging her inside. "Looks like we're coming with you after all!" the officer shouted to the others as he led the dazed waitress over to a bench.

"I'm out!" Dorian yelled and looked to Kevin, "Get those doors shut now!" he ordered as he ran for the front of the van and practically scrambled into the passenger's seat.

Jake leapt into the back of the van and grabbed one of the doors as Kevin grabbed the other and together, they yanked the doors shut just as a zombie was inches away from diving for them.

"Go! Go! Go!" Kevin shouted to the driver and almost fell to the floor as he collided with the seated Mark.

Immediately the van sped off down the street, leaving their undead pursuers behind.

Author's Note: Yet another chapter has come to an end! I wish to give a special thanks to my loyal reviewers qwerty, Jammer69er, Dark Respite, Crow T R0bot and Rodenga (even if you've reviewed this fic only once so far!) and thank all of you for sticking by me so far. In spite of the loyalty of a select few, I still long for the change to hear input from some fresh faces too, so if you're out there, do feel free to review!

Also, to anybody who may have reviewed the original "Darkness Arises," I'm sending out a proverbial beacon/message, much like Optimus Prime does in the end of the Transformers movie, telling all of you that Metal Harbinger is back and so is Darkness Arises, new, improved and REBORN! If you are still out there, I would greatly appreciate your input!

Again, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	7. Ch 6: Things Go Boom in the Night

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Alright, here is the second half of what was originally Ch. 4 in the original. I finally got it done and am very please with the way this chapter turned out, especially that I've added some new elements. Now, on with the story!

Chapter 6: Things Go Boom in the Night

_"Damn it Jake, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"_

Jake sat at the very back of the police van, for once questioning his own motives for getting involved in this mission. This was supposed to be a simple assassination, he had told himself. Not to sound like he was brooding over his decision or anything, but he seriously thought all he would have to do is track down some lone scientist and take him out. It should have been as simple as that, but unfortunately fate had something else in mind.

He now had to curse himself for getting too overconfident.

Being the mercenary hitman of his caliber, naturally he had found himself in high demand within the criminal underworld. He had been recruited to eliminate high-level targets ranging from rival mob bosses to unrelenting politicians to snitches who knew too much. So far, he had completed all of his missions with lethal accuracy and always made sure to prepare himself down to the smallest details to ensure that he would never be caught off guard.

Snuffing out a scientist working for a multinational pharmaceutical company was something new to him, but he always liked a challenge and the money he was promised in the end had suggested this individual was of general significance to the Umbrella Corporation. However, he had not expected to find himself thrust into the middle of an invasion of the undead.

Fighting the reanimated corpses of ordinary citizens was a new story altogether for him. Sure he had managed to handle himself very well so far, crediting his rudimentary knowledge from what he had seen in horror movies. He had to remind himself that these monsters could feel no pain and would keep coming until he was able to find some way to incapacitate them for good. The only way he could think of right now was to sever their brain stem, which could be done either through a simple head shot, or decapitating them entirely. Judging by what he had just witnessed back at the canal, complete immolation was another possible solution.

If killing them wasn't an option, they could be easily outsmarted and were slow enough to dodge with ease. They were dangerous in large packs and if left alone would only be a matter of time before he would become exhausted, and if he could not find shelter immediately, they would overwhelm and systematically devour him.

The odds were stacked against him a million to one, but that's exactly how Jake Cavanaugh liked it. He was at his most dangerous when his back was pinned against the wall. Knowing of the elevated risks seemed to sharpen his skills and make him focus to the top of his game to help him prevail in the end.

All he knew for sure right now was that whoever the bastard was who put him up to this had better pay him the ten million dollars up front and in full, or else he would kill the man where he stood. If this mysterious benefactor was sincere with his offer, then Jake would have to find some way to make sure all that money he was putting his life on the line for would be worth it in the end. He highly doubted he would retire afterwards like most people. The urge for battle and adventure still burned brightly within the young man and he would die fighting if he had to.

Jake let out a heavy sigh and looked around the van's cramped quarters to take in his surroundings. This was not the first time he had been in the back of a police van, but this time he actually wanted to be in one. The last time he had been in a van like this, he was being transported to the Almondville Correctional Institution. This time around, the van was actually meant to protect him and the others as they were being guided through the dangerous streets and taken to the police station for further protection.

Like his last time riding in the back of a police van, the atmosphere was relatively quiet, broken only by coughs and small whispers. Back then the inmates had been instructed by the guards that there was to be absolutely no communication amongst themselves. This time the silence was voluntary as it appeared that all of the people present had a lot to think about. They probably pondered whether or not they would make it out of this situation alive and possibly contemplated what they would do afterwards, also thinking about family, friends, co-workers and other loved ones they had outside the city and if they would ever see them again or not.

Sitting at the very back of the van near the doors he was seated next to George, who had attempted to start up a small conversation with him. Unfortunately he didn't have much to say in return, other than largely repeating a lot of the cover story he had devised for himself of being a Marine who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The good doctor in turn didn't have much to say either, aside from telling a little more about his job and his ex-wife. He had gone into detail telling how they had gradually drifted apart from one another, largely because of his high-demand job and how he had been angry with her for a long time after she dropped the bombshell upon him that she had wanted a divorce. Recently though, the developing situation had forced him to rethink his feelings towards her and hope that she was alright.

Jake could feel pity for the man, but tried to keep the conversation as brief as possible. He felt there was no point in getting attached or further acquainted with any of them because he would possibly grieve for them and vice versa. Besides, he was here to do a job, not make new friends.

George had since turned his attention towards Mark, who had also attempted to further converse with the hitman when he talked further of supposedly being a Marine. In all honesty, Jake didn't know much about the daily doings of the Armed Forces and tried to avoid the subject for fear of being discovered. Instead, the conversation had gradually turned to how the security guard had first become acquainted with his long-time friend Bob while serving in Vietnam and how they fought side by side in several battles. It truly was a shame in his opinion how the plucky old man had survived so much horror, only to be done in by some mysterious virus in the end.

Cindy sat next to Mark, still quietly whimpering to herself. The blood of Jake's most recent kill had begun to dry on her uniform. At her feet lay the makeshift spear, its once glimmering blade now coated in the blood. Her sudden transformation had left many feeling concerned for her well-being. Gone was the bright and sunny waitress who had done so much to lift the spirits of her terrified companions, now a broken woman whose psyche had fallen to the madness around her.

The hitman could only hope to himself that he hadn't contributed to her current state after killing that zombie just inches away from her face. She was a civilian and therefore was nowhere near as desensitized to death as he was.

David sat next to the waitress and also refrained from getting better acquainted with the other survivors, as did Yoko sitting next to him. On her behalf though, it seemed more out of fright that kept her from socializing.

In between the benches, Kevin stood leaning over the partition that separated the front seats from the back area where everybody else was seated, engrossed in a conversation with Dorian and the driver, a riot officer referred to as Tyson. At the same time, he was avoiding trying to accidentally step on both of the survivors from the streets, who now gave their names as Ralph and Phil. Both men remained silent and would only look up to give blank, death-like stares, bringing about great concern from the others.

Across from him, the other bench was crammed to the point where the other survivors were bumping each other with every movement of their arms and legs.

Alyssa was wedged into a corner and nearly had her legs crushed by Ralph's form. He could tell by the look on her face that she definitely did not like this position and wanted to shout at everybody else, but for the fact that they had all just been through Hell and back she chose not to.

Jim sat right next to her, again clutching his lucky coin and muttering some kind of gibberish to himself about how he hoped it would truly help him survive this madness. It was something he truly found pathetic and for once began to question if it was a good thing that they allowed him to ride along.

Eric and Miranda were at the very end seated right across from him. Aside from Kevin and the other officers, they seemed to be the only ones attempting to socialize in hushed whispers. To the hired gun, they were probably chatting about things that he frankly didn't care much about.

Although just looking at them still made him think. There were times when he often would ponder what his life would possibly be like had he not become a professional hitman. He imagined that right now at his age he probably would have just been getting out of college and probably in a steady relationship with a pleasant young woman. Right now, he was too far gone and if he wanted anything close to a normal life he would probably have to fake his own death and assume an entirely new identity.

_"Easier said than done," _he thought to himself. With his intimidating appearance and conspicuous tattoos, he knew it would be extremely hard to do so.

Jake turned towards the front of the sitting area, where Kevin still conversed with the two officers up front. He was interested in their conversation and had to strain his ears to listen. Fortunately, there wasn't much noise to distract him.

"…The highways are too dangerous for us to travel on, so we'll have to rely on the side streets to get around to the station," one of the men spoke, whose voice he recognized as Dorian's.

He felt the vibration beneath him slow and saw some smoke through the front window, suggesting the driver may have been swerving to avoid a car wreck or something. The van suddenly picked up speed and a few people gasped at the sudden movement.

_"Probably more zombies making their bothersome presence felt," _the hitman thought as he took the time to reload both Berettas. What he wouldn't do to have his other weapons right now. For now, he would just have to make due with what he had. _"I'll have to get back there one way or another."_

Several minutes later, the van rounded a corner and skidded to a halt.

"Damn it, another road block!" Dorian grunted in disgust.

"What are we going to do?" Kevin asked, "We need to get these people to the station and we need to get over there to help out Elliott and the others."

Tyson picked up the transceiver and spoke, "Main St. Barricade, this is Transport Unit 4! What is your current status?"

Gunshots and moans sounded from the other end before an agitated cop spoke up.

_"This is Adler," _the cop named Elliott shouted, _"We're in serious trouble right now. It's down to myself, Nordstrom and Muntz, that's it! We're still trying to get the explosives prepped, but we don't know how much longer the barricade behind us is going to last. We need backup right now!"_

Kevin looked at both his colleagues and then back to the survivors. "Those guys need our help, but we can't just leave these people here!"

"We might have no other choice," Dorian replied, shifting his gaze back and forth between Kevin and Tyson. "We might have to park the van here for the time being and send some people on foot to help them."

"We're on Stanton St. right now," Tyson added, "that means we're not too far away from Main St. We might be able to send some people over on foot."

"But who will that be?" Kevin asked again, "I'd be willing to go, but we're still going to need some people here to guard the survivors."

Dorian peered over his colleague's shoulder and looked to the survivors, some of whom carried weapons and some of whom looked experienced enough to be of use. "You might just be looking at your backup right now," he whispered.

The younger officer looked back to his fellow survivors. So far he had managed to fight his way out of J's Bar and survive the streets of Raccoon thanks to their assistance, maybe they could be of assistance in this scenario.

Tyson seemed to agree with Dorian and again spoke into the transceiver, "Hang tight Adler, we're sending help right away."

Dorian again peered over Kevin and spoke to the survivors, "As you can see, there are plenty of road blocks all over the streets. If you want to go any farther, you're going to have to proceed by foot." This news brought anguished groans from several occupants.

"Don't worry about it, we appreciate all the help we can get," Kevin said grabbing his shotgun and turning to address the others. "There's going to be a slight change of plans. Those officers on Main St. desperately need backup right now and I'm going to help them. Any of you are welcome to join me."

"I'm in," Mark said, quickly offering his services.

"I've got nothing better to do," David spoke up, "might as well join in on some of the fun while it's still there."

"Count me in," George added. A few looked at him warily for suddenly volunteering, but Kevin seemed to trust him and nodded in approval.

"I'm going too," Alyssa butted in, "you will need all the help you can get."

"As long as you're not just looking for a story, then feel free to join," Kevin replied looking to the others.

"Hey asshole, I'm not as defenseless as I look," the reporter seethed, waving her newly acquired handgun to emphasize her point.

"Let her come along," Jake said rising to her defense, "I'm coming too. I'm up for popping a few more heads with the shit all those rotting fucks have been giving us all night long."

"Alright, I think we've got enough people then," Kevin reported, only to be met by Eric.

"I want to help too," the college student said, rising to his feet and proudly displaying his shotgun.

"You better stay behind," Kevin said, "Dorian and Tyson need help guarding the others and I'm sure they'll want some serious firepower here too."

Eric looked stunned by the news, especially after all the help he had given them while fighting to get here. He then looked over to Miranda, who stared fearfully like she truly cared for his safety. Grunting in defeat, he finally spoke up.

"Oh alright, I'll stay here then," he replied grudgingly, "Just come back in one piece though!"

"The rest of you, stay here and obey Officers Grassley and Michaels instructions," Kevin ordered, walking to the doors. Placing an ear to the doors, he listened intently for any sinister sounds. When the coast appeared to be clear, he nodded to Dorian and slowly pushed the door open.

Nothing appeared to be amiss as the young officer jumped to the tarmac and quickly spun around with his weapon drawn. They were situated between some old tenement buildings and he kept a close eye on some shadowy areas, ready for any unseen attackers. When nothing happened, he motioned for the others to follow.

Jake and Mark were the first to step out, both splitting up and checking both sides of the van with weapons drawn. The hired gun saw a stairwell to his right and remained focused for any threats.

David and George soon followed, the latter looking visibly nervous, but they could sense the determination within. Alyssa then followed close behind and soon, the others would gradually pile out and stretch their limbs after a long, bumpy ride.

"God I don't wanna sit around like this," Jim whined, shaking nervously, "It's too damn scary!"

"Sorry Jim, but we don't have any other choice," Kevin replied, waiting for Dorian as he came from the front and then climbed into the back to unlock the built-in weapons cabinet.

"You're going to need to get stocked up if you're going to proceed any further," the older officer spoke, withdrawing a SPAS-12 assault shotgun and handing it to David, along with some shells and additional magazines for his empty handgun.

It was then time to distribute the rest of the ammo to the others. Kevin was up first, gathering two additional clips for his .45 and more shells for his shotgun. George was next, being given a handgun and three spare clips for it. He gave his makeshift flamethrower to Miranda before moving on. Mark's turn came and he scooped up two additional clips for his gun and more shells for his already emptied shotgun. Alyssa was then up and grabbed a few more clips for her handgun, and for the first time revealed she had been carrying a stun gun the whole time. It was doubtful a zombie could be immobilized by such a weapon.

Jake was the last and gathered additional clips for his Berettas, knowing it was all he needed for now. So far he had not needed to use the S&W revolver, wanting to save the powerful weapon for any tougher enemies, if they even existed. He also didn't want to get too stocked up on other weapons, knowing he had more of his own back at the Apple Inn. No matter what the circumstances were, he was still determined to get back there one way or another.

There wasn't much left for those who would be staying behind, aside from a few clips that were given to Miranda and another gun, which was given to Jim.

"Make sure you know which way to point that gun, kid," Mark chuckled, giving the subway worker a hearty pat on the back.

Jake again shook his head at Jim. Frankly he didn't know what was scarier, a bunch of mindless, bloodthirsty zombies, or a jumpy coward with a gun. For once he almost felt bad for him, thinking that he was only a greater danger to himself. It was weak stomached people like him who would get knocked back by the recoil and possibly take out one of his own companions, or fire wildly and waste bullets period. Plus, he would probably feel pangs of guilt for killing a zombie that was out to kill him for no apparent reason. If all else failed, he would probably put the gun to his own head rather than try to figure some way out of the whole mess.

The hitman took one last look around at the survivors who would be staying behind. All of them stuck close to the parked van, ready to bolt the second their safety would be compromised. The riot officer Tyson stuck close to the opened driver's side door with an MP-5 submachine gun in hand, visibly shaking as he looked around nervously. Eric and Miranda both stood at the back near the opened doors, both walking around cautiously and nervously watching the many shadows for possible threats. Cindy sat on the rear bumper, appearing to be a little more alert and talkative, much to everybody's relief. Jim and Phil both remained in the back of the van, the latter of whom had collapsed into a fetal position.

"Oh god, I'm next on the menu…why must my life end like this?" the man trailed off, struggling to hold back tears.

Ralph meanwhile was standing near the steps, engaged in a heated argument with Dorian.

"How can you do this to us?" the bearded man shouted, "You're the police! You're supposed to be protecting us! Now you're expecting people to move through these streets on foot? It's suicide, and I refuse to move any more!" he roared, getting into the officer's face.

"Sir you need to calm down," Dorian replied, raising his hands protectively, "we have colleagues who desperately need help out here and they must be helped if we wish to progress any further! Now please settle down and join the others. You have our sworn word that we are doing everything in our power to protect you."

Eric and Miranda were able to sense the volatility of the situation and slowly approached the man from behind, whispering into his ears and doing whatever they could to calm him before leading him back to the van.

With Ralph dealt with, Dorian turned to face the departing party. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you more. Right now, you're better off on your own and should try to find some way past this mess." He then addressed his fellow officer, "Kevin, do whatever you can to help those guys. We're counting on you."

Kevin nodded solemnly and looked back to those who would be accompanying him and then up the flight of stairs. The moans of zombies lingered in the distance, sounding like some seriously messed up cult chanting that made his blood chill. He was scared of what he would possibly encounter, but knew he had to keep moving for the sake of his colleagues.

"Alright, let's get rockin'. We don't have much time left!" he said and proceeded to climb the stairs with Mark at his side.

"_Man piggy, I sure hope you know what you're doing," _Jake thought to himself when his time came to climb the stairs. Two group moved in a two-by-two formation with Kevin and Mark at the front, Alyssa and George in the middle and David and the hitman bringing up the rear.

The "unit" moved shoulder-to-shoulder at a careful pace, focused on the windows at their sides, some of which had been left open in haste and could still have threats lurking behind them. It was when they reached halfway through the alley that Mark motioned for everybody to stop.

"Hey what gives?" Alyssa called out and stood on her tiptoes trying to see over the bulky guard's shoulders.

"Look!" he whispered to Kevin, pointing at something in front of him.

Jake knelt down and tried to see around the people in front of him for what the guard was pointing at.

"Yeah, it's a gun!" Alyssa said, "We know what it is, it's not like we haven't seen one before. Now we need to get going! Please!"

"Hold on a minute," the guard spoke, raising his shotgun and cautiously approaching the windowsill, where a Magnum revolver lay abandoned. Kevin followed closely behind and the two men focused their weapons on the opened window, careful to make sure nothing would leap out after them. Keeping his eyes focused on the blackness before him the entire time, Mark scooped up the powerful gun and leapt backwards like he expected some bony hands to reach out after him.

"Looks to be in good condition," he said carefully examining the weapon before inspecting its cylinder, "and it's loaded too. Whoever left it there must've been in a huge hurry to leave something like this baby behind."

"You said it," Kevin said checking the weapon over before handing it back to the guard.

"Okay, can we please get moving now?" Alyssa irritably groaned, looking nervously to the windows around her.

The sextet soldiered forth down the alley, feeling as if they were charging straight into the mouth of Hell itself as the undead groans grew louder. Coming to the alley's end, they found themselves on a footbridge overlooking Main Street itself and everybody else came to a complete stop.

"What's going on?" Jake asked aloud, but was quickly silenced as he saw the carnage for himself. "This is bad!"

"Oh…god," was all Kevin could muster as the air drained from his lungs.

"Oh the smell…that's an odor I never wanted to experience again," Mark spoke, shutting his eyes to block out the sight.

"Oh no…no," Alyssa spoke with a quiver, "the city must be gone…"

"What a mess," David rasped, speaking for the first time in quite a while.

"Dear lord…what happened to everyone," was all George could offer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry Muntz was officially the most frightened he had ever been in his entire life. Instead of being home in the safety of his bed, here he was on Main Street, being approached by what appeared to be hundreds if not thousands of mindless zombies. All he could see was a horrible death staring him in the face as the cadavers stood wall to wall, held back by a pitiful barricade of mounted fences attached to a concrete base. Once the base broke, he would be swarmed and ripped into tiny strips.

This was literally a nightmare come true for the young officer and he could barely function as he held the Beretta 9mm in front of him with shaky hands. He wanted to pull the trigger and put one of those monsters out of its misery, but their ungodly moans kept frightening him beyond comprehension whenever he would get the urge to perform a seemingly simple function.

"_Heavenly father, what did I ever do to deserve this?" _he thought to himself, trying his best not to stare any of those freaks directly into their cold, soulless eyes. Doing so would only take him back to last night and that incident outside the Raccoon City Zoo's front gate, where he was attacked by what he believed to be a coked up junkie that had been scaring the patrons and bit one of the zookeepers. All he could remember were the guy's glossed over eyes as he was tackled to the ground and just inches away from having his throat bitten into. Had it not been for an expertly placed shot to the back of the man's cranium, courtesy of Elliott, he would surely be dead.

Now here he was confronted by hundreds of them, all just like his attacker. He could now tell the man certainly wasn't on drugs, it was like he was already dead.

"_This shouldn't be…I shouldn't even be out here!"_ the officer thought. He was supposed to be a simple desk officer assigned to shuffling through daily paperwork or getting coffee for his superiors. Sure they had been boring tasks before, but now he desperately missed them. Harry Muntz had wanted some action in his dull daily existence, but this was asking for way too much.

Next to him his colleagues Elliott Adler and Eric Nordstrom worked frantically, Elliott firing at the zombies as they pushed against the barricade and Eric down on his knees, hurriedly wiring the detonator for setting off the explosive charges.

Indeed Elliott and Eric were considered to be two of the department's finest. At first he thought he would feel safe by their side, but now he was seriously questioning not only his own aptitude, but theirs as well. Eric had been a demolitions specialist, but the breakneck pace at which he was forced to work, along with Elliott's constant barking of orders and the constant screeching of metal, seriously flustered him and made him forget things.

Elliott fired a round into one of the zombies and killed it immediately; leaving its corpse to be flung around by its "colleagues" before it finally slumped over the railing. He fired two more random shots into the crowd, but failed to kill any this time.

"Eric, what's taking so long? Hurry up!" he barked, forced to load the final remaining clip into his gun.

Again distracted by his colleague's outburst, he could only grunt in reply. "I'm trying! I'm almost done, just a few more seconds!"

Harry stood off to the side, still too frightened to fire his gun. He was not trained to deal with this kind of situation and neither were any other members of the department staff. Then again, he was surprised he was even here in the first place after having performed poorly in the academy. It was only because of his familial connection to Mayor Michael Warren that he had gotten this job.

It was a loud crash against the gate that had finally snapped the officer out of his thoughts, committed by a zombie that had somehow managed to climb on top of its companions and be passed forward, only to stumble and break its jaw on the barricade. He could only let out a startled yelp as the section of fencing was nearly knocked over.

"Ahhh! Hurry! Hurry this way! Quick!" the tubby officer barked, expecting the worst. Somehow he had finally found the strength to pull the trigger, but his own hysteria had left him unable to accurately take aim. His bullets had found themselves embedded within the torso of a zombie up front, who still thrashed away wildly.

"Shit, hurry up!" Elliott shouted again, firing more rounds into the crowd.

"Hold on," Eric cried twisting some more wires together, "Okay it's done!" The detonator was finally set up and ready to go, but at a great cost.

CCCCCCRRRRRRRAAAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHHH!!!!

A whining screech of metal strained the officers' ears as the zombies had finally knocked down the barricades and were now piling over each other, anxious for their next meal.

"Eric, watch out!" Elliott cried, but it was too late.

Eric looked up from his work to find an entire wave of zombies hovering over him ready to strike. It was the last thing he would ever see.

"Get away from him!" Elliott cried raising his gun, but his partner had been completely swarmed and more snarling attackers were already onto him. Before he could squeeze off a single round, several zombies had already tackled him to the ground and began biting into him.

"Oh just great…" Harry whined, finding himself backed against a wall. Elliott and Eric were dead and now he was all alone. He grew pale and struggled to cry out for help as the zombies had turned their attention away from his dead comrades and now focused on him.

"What should I do?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kevin's blood began to boil at the sight of his own colleagues being slaughtered, but yet he managed to contain himself. "Come on! We have to help him!" he shouted, bounding quickly down the stairs with his shotgun drawn.

"Wait up!" Mark cried chasing after him with shotgun drawn, followed closely by the others.

Jake rushed from the end of the group, ready to blow away any zombie that ventured into his crosshairs. This was a fight he was ready for, both physically and mentally.

Reaching the street below, Kevin would immediately run over to his frightened co-worker. "Harry!"

"Kevin!" the officer shouted back. He was now pinned against the nearby fence and felt like he was about to faint, until his fellow officer's voice snapped him out of his trance.

"K-Kevin, thank God you're still alive! Look, you've gotta help me here. We were trying to detonate the explosives the S.W.A.T. team set up underground, but those things broke through! They killed Elliott and Eric! I would fight them myself, but…oh god, I just don't have it in me!" the man whined nearly breaking into sobs, "Listen, you've got to get the pieces of the detonator together. They should be scattered somewhere here on the street. Once you get them assembled, you'll have to get over to the rig kit by Eric's body."

"Alright, we'll do what we can, just stay back!" Kevin ordered with a pump of his shotgun.

"Please, just get these freaks cleared out!" Harry shouted from behind.

The group turned to face the zombie threat head on. For now, most of them had stood around dumbly, swaying back and forth with their heads down, but there were a select few who had picked up the scent of the still living humans and began to charge forward.

Wasting no time, Kevin fired a shell into the face of a zombie that had lurched toward him. Another stood close by and the officer brought his elbow up to knock the monster flat onto its back. Once it had fallen, he brought his foot down and repeatedly stomped its head in until its bones gave way beneath his boot. His adrenaline was pumping after seeing two of his colleagues savagely murdered right before his very eyes. He was out to punish as many of these freaks as he could.

"Chew on this, fuckers!" the officer shouted, giving one zombie yet another hole in its head and then blasting a female's head clean off. He let out a mighty roar, firing shell after shell into the crowd of undead, unleashing frustration that had been pent up all night long.

Mark and George stood with their backs to each other, firing round after round into any zombie that came within a five foot radius of them. Their main objective for now was to carve a path through the crowd so one of them could reach the rig kit.

One of the zombies had tried to sneak up on the doctor for a quick bite, but George spotted him and with some extra energy, tackled the monstrosity to the ground and planted his foot on its chest. "Let this be your funeral, monster!" and with those words, fired a round point blank into the zombie's face.

David ran alongside the duo and fired his gun repeatedly into the approaching zombies, dropping three in rapid succession. He continued firing until his clip ran out, only to find another just inches away from him. With no time to reach for his folding knife, he pulled out another lug wrench and tossed it into the zombie's face, knocking it to the ground and destroying one of its eyes. Delivering a swift kick to its neck, the zombie was nearly decapitated.

"_Eat that you undead bastard," _the plumber thought to himself.

Alyssa had already managed to drop several of the zombies with carefully placed potshots. _"That's right, keep coming to me you fucking freaks. Looks like all that time I spent at the shooting range is paying off tonight."_

Yet another zombie fell to the pavement with a smoking crater left in its forehead. Jake had both his guns drawn and looked down upon the fresh corpses he had just laid out. He stood over them looking completely badass and showing no remorse, almost as if he was the Angel of Death himself. Deep down, he may have felt sorry for these things at one point, but now they were beyond reason and were just obstacles that stood in the way of his mission success.

A loud moan sounded from behind him and he turned to find another zombie rising to its feet, ready to strike at the first thing it saw. A frown forming on his face, the hitman withdrew his combat knife and stabbed it directly through the monster's eye.

"Go to Hell!" he grumbled at the fresh corpse. Looking beyond the multitude of dead bodies, his eyes lit up as he spotted a green cylindrical object of great importance.

"_The detonator's main unit!" _he mentally shouted to himself.

Swiping the object up, he saw Kevin standing near the rig kit and was about to approach him.

BLAM!!!

A shotgun blast went off behind Jake and he turned to find a zombie collapsing to the pavement missing half of its skull. He saw Eric Sampson standing before him with his feet planted firmly on the ground, staring down the remaining zombies with pure hatred and determination.

"Eric, what the hell are you doing here?" the career criminal said getting in his face, "You were supposed to stay back at the van and help guard the others!

"I know, but I heard the big firefight and I just couldn't sit around waiting anymore!" the college student shouted back, firing a round of buckshot into the face of a dark-haired zombie in a bomber jacket. "These bastards are destroying a beautiful city I've grown to love. I'm not going down without a little payback."

"Keep pulling shit like this and you will be going down!" Jake shouted back, firing a blast into the face of what had once been a punk rocker with a purple Mohawk and black leather outfit.

Eric only offered a slight nod and continued firing away, "Alright you heartless fucking bastards!" he growled while pumping his shotgun, "You freaks have already caused too much pain and sorrow and tonight, I'm going to send as many of you worthless pieces of shit back to the grave as I can!"

With his words of rage, the college student fired another round that completely decapitated one zombie and then pumped his gun, firing into another's torso. The brutal shot disemboweled the walking cadaver, but its upper half still crawled after him, letting out more primordial groans.

"Shut up and die!!!" Eric roared, bringing his foot down and smashing the zombie's skull into the pavement. He quickly had to slow down as he could feel his rage getting the better of him, knowing he would leave a weak spot open if he became too angry. Yet another zombie trudged towards him with arms extended.

"Not tonight…" he replied in a calmer manner, blasting its brains clear across the pavement. Unbeknownst to him, both he and Jake had gradually moved over to the west side of the street as they battled the living dead. An officer's corpse rested against a street light not too far from him and through all the surrounding debris, he spotted something that was crucial to stopping these monsters.

"Is that the detonator handle?" Eric shouted over to Jake, who had just finished dropping two more zombies staggering towards him.

"Crap, it is!" the hitman shouted back and reached into his pocket for the detonator's main unit, "Quick, give it to me!" he ordered.

Quickly scooping it up, he tossed it over to Jake, who then attached it to the main unit.

Turning around, the hired gun noticed that Kevin had made it over to the rig kit. The officer blasted away at the remaining zombies who immediately surrounded him. There were seemingly thousands more ahead of him, but appeared to be confident they still had time to detonate the explosives. He turned to see his dark-clad companion approaching him.

"Kevin, think fast!" Jake shouted and tossed the completed detonator unit to the officer.

The officer wasted no time in connecting the detonator to the rig kit and saw that another wave of the undead was getting dangerously close. "Somebody cover me! I'm going to blow these fuckers to Hell!"

Jake, Mark, David, George, Alyssa and Eric all ran up behind Kevin and began laying waste to the approaching zombies as Kevin struggled to connect the detonator to the rig kit. A loud click signaled that he was ready.

"Get ready, here goes nothing!" he shouted to the others, turning the lever.

An ominous roar sounded from below, muting out the symphony of undead groans, and within seconds the tension was broken by a loud explosion that obliterated most of the zombies within its radius. That was not the last. A chain reaction of large explosions occurred back to back, moving down the street toward the toppled barricades, sending charred limbs, entire bodies and cars flying in all directions. Pieces of concrete smacked through glass and crushed several unfortunate souls whole and an endless stream of flames swallowed anything that stood before them. The explosions were of biblical proportions and the final explosion would create a large mushroom cloud those rose high into the nighttime sky.

"Damn…" Jake muttered as he rubbed his sore ears after the stream of explosions. Everyone else remained silent around him, clearly entranced by the large wall of fire shining brightly before them.

All of Main Street had been decimated in the blasts, leaving only a line of craters in its place. Pavement had been forced upward, creating several walls that would be impossible to climb over, as evidenced when a moan broke through the crackle of flames.

A lone zombie had somehow managed to survive the blasts and struggled to climb over the wall, its blackened skin literally tearing under its effort and several burning embers still rapidly eating away at its form. Eventually, it proved to be too much for the zombie and it fell back into the smoldering crater, left to a fiery death.

The smell of burning flesh wafted in the air, surprisingly with nobody gagging in response. As the smoke began to clear, the criminal could now make out the splattered forms of some of the zombies who had been thrown by the blasts, their bodies still clinging to the outer exteriors of the buildings.

"Dispatch, this is Ryman," Kevin said into his radio, "The explosives on Main Street have been detonated. Repeat, the explosives have been detonated and we are awaiting further instructions."

"_Copy that Ryman," _the dispatcher replied, _"We're sending help right away."_

Both the officer and Alyssa stood rooted to their spots, still staring passively at the flames as police sirens sounded in the distance.

Behind them, Mark could be seen checking up on the still dazed Officer Muntz, who had quickly ran over to vomit in the nearest available trashcan. David had found a discarded iron pipe and again pulled out his roll of vinyl tape, along with the concrete piece he had found back at the shantytown, going about crafting another crude weapon. Dorian by now had caught up to Eric and was in the middle of harshly reprimanding the college student for his insubordination, who had little in the way of a valid excuse for his actions. George meanwhile collapsed against the fence Harry had been near, engaging in a quiet conversation with Mark.

"Is it over?" Alyssa asked, a look of concern etched across her usually astute features.

Jake looked at her without speaking and studied her closely. He could tell by her facial expressions that she was uncertain in her claim, as were those of the others present.

This had only been a small victory in a brewing war and could only tell himself that this was only the beginning. He stared silently into the jet black sky and then looked down to the others with foreboding certainty.

"No…this is only the beginning…" he spoke, not even bothering to sugarcoat details and boost the morale of his companions. He told it like it was, blunt and to the point. With a scary, yet determined gaze he looked to all of the other survivors and took a seat on the nearby steps.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several squad cars and another police van congested what was left of Main Street. Parked behind them were an ambulance, an RCNN news van and what almost looked like an RV, but proudly bore the logo of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, or C.D.C. for short.

Several white-clad researchers milled about and the officers did everything they could to assist them, including unloading equipment from their mobile laboratory.

At this point the underground fires had been extinguished thanks to the R.F.D. choppers flying overhead. Smoke still billowed in the air, forcing many to cover their faces to avoid inhalation and some to move with their hands in front of them so they could carefully navigate the crowded area.

In front of the nearest crater stood a gray-suited anchor from RCNN and his cameraman, filming their latest report. An RCNN news chopper also flew overhead, illuminating much of the area with its searchlight.

Dorian was in the process of being interviewed, nobody else seeming to pay attention. Jake stood on the footbridge overlooking Main Street and although most of the officer's interview was broken up by sounds of radio chatter and officers shouting orders to each other, he did manage to catch tidbits, including the whole "stay inside and lock your doors" spiel.

David and Eric had since retreated back to the waiting police van over on Stanton St., but the others still lingered about.

Alyssa had now pulled out her notepad and was in the middle of taking statements from one of the researchers and an officer.

George was in the back of the ambulance with two paramedics treating a wounded officer, who had been accidentally shot while reinforcing another barricade. Mark was nearby, hauling another officer over who had a nasty gash along the left side of his head.

Kevin stood directly beneath him chatting with three other officers, all of whom appeared equally battle worn with their uniforms covered in black grime and blood of their previous kills.

"Heck of a job Ryman," said a tall, pale-skinned officer with dark brown hair cropped closely to his head, offering his colleague a hearty pat on the shoulder. "You sure did well on this one."

"Thanks Aaron, I had to do what I could to get those people to safety and what I could to get those explosives detonated," Kevin said gesturing to the smoking craters behind him.

"Yeah, I just wish Elliott and Eric could've made it through," a dark-haired officer spoke, watching ruefully as workers from the coroner's office zipped shut the body bags holding Officers Adler and Nordstrom, prepping them to be loaded into the back of a black van that had just arrived.

"We all do Jean, believe me," Aaron replied, quietly bowing his head in remembrance of his fallen comrades.

"We lost too many good officers tonight," spoke the third officer, a man close to Kevin's height with short brown hair.

"We tried to help them Fred," Kevin spoke from the back, wary that his colleague would probably blame him for his friends' deaths. "Believe me, we tried, but there were too many of those freaks. Nobody could have known this would happen."

"None of us did," Aaron said as he carefully stared down a dead zombie wearing a bloody hooded sweatshirt and camouflage pants, one that had been shot dead by Jake.

"How's Harry holding up?" Kevin asked as he looked back to the police van he had seen his co-worker lead over to after the blasts.

"Beside himself," Jean replied, "he's taking it pretty hard. He blames himself for being unable to help Elliot and Eric, can't say that I blame him for feeling that way though. He may have been a bungling goof, but still, nobody needs that on their conscience."

"I know it's tough, but right now we have to focus on surviving and save as many of these people as we can," Kevin spoke with fierce doggedness, thinking of the people he had been struggling to lead to safety.

"Amen to that," Aaron spoke up and again placed his hand on Kevin's shoulder, "Hey listen, Fred and I have to get back to the station right away. We'll talk to you later man."

"Sure thing," Kevin replied as his friend walked away from him. Fred followed him close behind, but stopped and turned around to address him one last time.

"Kevin, you do whatever you can to get those people to safety," he spoke firmly, in a tone bordering on aggression. He then turned on his heel and marched after his departing colleague.

"You can count on it," Kevin said back. He knew the man couldn't hear him, but still he had to say those words so he could depart with a strong resolve. Dorian had now returned from his interview and signaled that he was ready to move.

"I'm needed over at the First National Bank. I'll talk to you later and until then take care," Jean spoke and shook hands with his friend one last time.

"I will," Kevin replied, returning the handshake.

Deciding he had seen enough, Jake turned around and made his way back to the waiting police van.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once again Jake found himself in the back of the police van, exhausted by his recent ordeal and struggling to keep himself awake. He looked around to see most of the other survivors had either fallen asleep or sat quietly in deep thought. They might have been victorious over these rotting freaks tonight, but he himself still had a mission to complete and another paycheck to acquire for his hard work.

The van was currently en route to the local police station and he had to plan out how he would escape and complete his mission while avoiding the police and other survivors. At the same time, he had to relax and regain his strength.

"_A city where the dead walk? Again I'm forced to ask myself what the hell I've gotten myself into?_

"_Mercenaries like myself aren't supposed to question the guy writing out the paycheck, but whoever this schmuck is, I'm almost wanting to track him down and rip his still beating heart out of his chest for putting me into this mess, but his time will eventually come._

"_For now, I'm going to focus on this Birkin scum."_

Slowly, he tilted his head back against the wall and felt his eyelids closing.

Author's Note: Alright this note is going to include spoilers for those who haven't played the Outbreak games. To tell the truth, I haven't played "Outbreak – File 2," but I know who is who thanks to a link another author on this site sent me back when I was working on the original DA. I just want to point this out because of the random faces shown and letting everybody know that the 3 officers Kevin chats with towards the end are not original creations of mine.

Aaron is the officer who rushes towards the camera at the end of the "Outbreak" scenario if you score a good ending. From what I hear, he also appears later on in the "Desperate Times" scenario. Apparently, Kevin views him as his "hero."

Jean is the officer whose corpse you find in the "Underbelly" scenario on Hard and Very Hard modes in File 2, an apparent victim of a suicide. You're also supposed to be able to find a note on his corpse that gives out a code to the desk in the East Office.

Lastly, Fred is another officer you encounter at the R.P.D. in "Desperate Times," I guess he's the guy on the rooftop with a shotgun.

Well that's all for now so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	8. Ch 7: Divided We Fall

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 7: Divided We Fall

The van rocked violently from out of nowhere and Jake was jolted awake as his head bounced off the hard surface behind him.

"Ah…what the fuck gives?" he grunted, leaning forward and holding the back of his now throbbing cranium.

"What's going on up there?" Kevin asked, frantically scrambling to his feet and almost throwing himself through the small window in the partition.

"They have us surrounded!" Tyson shouted.

A series of loud banging noises from outside reinforced the officer's fearful statement. Again, many of the other survivors whispered quietly amongst themselves. They would be interrupted by the ear-piercing squeal of rubber on pavement as the S.W.A.T. officer suddenly punched the gas pedal, sending some of them tumbling to the ground.

"Shit!" Jake blurted out, struggling to maintain the grip on his seat beneath him. His attention was diverted as the back doors shook next to him, causing his heart to beat faster. The last thing he wanted was to be sucked out and land in the middle of the street, leaving him at the mercy of those things.

A few startled cries pierced the cramped quarters after a series of thuds, followed by the sound of breaking bones. Again, it was another noise the criminal was used to that his companions weren't. There had been plenty of times when he would be fleeing from rival gang members or the authorities and innocent bystanders just happened to get caught in the crossfire. He had become so used to that sound now that it didn't even faze him anymore.

Tyson Michaels struggled to keep his nerves calm as he sped down the crowded street, but it took more effort than he could handle, especially when zombies were shambling out of the shadows at an alarming rate and practically throwing themselves at the van.

"Watch it, you're going to get us all killed!" Dorian cried as he swerved the van to avoid a taxi that had smashed into a street lamp, knocking over a row of newspaper vendors in the process.

"Try telling that to these brainless bastards!" Tyson shouted back as more blood splattered onto the windshield. He was doing his best avoid hitting as many zombies as he could, knowing that they would eventually weaken the van's outer defenses. So far this van had proven its value as a moving shield through all the wreckage. Without it in a city full of zombies; they would be screwed big time.

"Argh! Damn you!" the officer grunted aloud as he swerved past another approaching zombie and nearly collided with an overturned fire engine.

Kevin watched the spectacle from the little window and nearly froze as he saw the overturned fire engine, realizing that it now wasn't just the police who were suffering at the hands of these zombies. His own thoughts were interrupted as the van took another abrupt turn when it rammed head on into an outdoor produce stand, its debris cracking the windshield and showering it with assorted fluids that greatly obstructed their view. The officer had to brace himself to avoid having his head strike the partition's edge.

Slowing the van down a little, Tyson turned onto a much darker street, where most of the overhead lights had been knocked out. Most of the illumination came from the van's lone headlight, the other having been knocked out after a recent collision with a zombie. They were almost completely running blind and the three officers looked on nervously as silhouetted figures swayed dumbly from both sides.

From out of nowhere, a rotting hand slapped against the passenger window and Dorian cried out as the owner's ashen face pressed against its thin surface, leaving streaks of bloody saliva as it gnashed its teeth in anticipation on the other side.

"Son of a bitch," Kevin shouted, reaching instinctively for his customized .45. Tyson noticed this and again slammed on the gas pedal.

Another jolt traveled through the cab area as the van sped up again, causing the unlocked storage cabinet to come flying open and shower the occupants with the empty boxes inside.

"Damn it!" Eric hollered as he tried to shield himself and Miranda from the falling debris.

"What the fuck is this dumbass doing?" David called out, his normally calm demeanor shattered by the hasty movements.

"Those things must have us surrounded again," Mark answered, holding on tightly to both George and Cindy to keep them in their seats.

Jim shrieked wildly as more thuds sounded and Alyssa plugged her ears next to him, hoping to block out the obnoxious noises that sounded more like they came from a teenaged girl rather than a grown man.

"Dorian, how much further do we have to reach the station?" Kevin called out as he noticed the zombies passing by in a blur.

"I don't know just yet," the older officer replied, reaching into the glove box for a city map. "We shouldn't be too far away…" he continued as the van rounded another sharp corner and came to a complete halt as Tyson slammed down on the brakes. "Dear lord…"

The police van had turned onto Clark St., only to come face to face with a wall of undead citizens that had congregated outside a Chop n' Cut hardware superstore. Judging by the looks, the barrier of rotting flesh must have been several rows deep and was already beginning its drunken march.

"Shit, there's no way around them!" Tyson cried, looking towards the two officers next to him.

He was right. The zombies were so close to each other that they were tripping over one another, and trampling some of their own kind in the process, to get at the van.

Trying to turn a large van around on a street littered with demolished cars, barricades, corpses and other miscellaneous junk was not an option. The riot officer had no other options he could think of and put his foot on the gas pedal.

"You'd better brace yourselves because this is going to get messy!" he shouted and stomped the gas pedal down to the floor.

With a mighty roar, the van's tires screeched against the cold pavement and with a mighty "VROOM" the vehicle launched itself forward.

"You could've tried a more subtle way!" Kevin shouted as he held on tight to the partition and almost felt his feet being lifted off the ground.

The officers said nothing as the van plowed into the wall of walking dead.

A loud crash sounded and right away, the entire front end of the van was painted a sickly shade of crimson by the tainted blood of its victims, who were turned into speed bumps. Constant rocking threatened to pop the tires at any second, and the gore covered windshield was turning into a spider web of cracks that threatened to shatter, creating another hazard rather than just being unable to see clearly.

"Damn these freaks!" Tyson shouted as his visibility had now been greatly reduced and he struggled to maintain control of the van. A loud crash forced the man to jump and jerk the wheel back and forth to avoid any potential obstacles. Seconds later, the battered glass finally gave way and the two officers found themselves showered by jagged shards.

"Damn it!" Dorian shouted as he raised his arms to avoid getting any glass in his eyes. Tyson meanwhile continued to steer with one hand while using his free hand to lower his helmet's visor.

The van rocked and everybody bounced on their seats in the back, struggling to hold on, while a few would be knocked to the ground and tossed around like clothes in a dryer.

Jake still fought doggedly to hold on, having heard the S.W.A.T. officer driving shout a warning to Kevin that things were "going to get messy."

A series of bumps and loud crashes followed and he found himself being pushed back and forth by the centrifugal force. Eventually, he was pushed all the way over into George, who in turn was then pushed over into Mark and so forth like a stack of dominoes until David connected with Yoko.

The small college student was easily forced out of her seat and into the narrow aisle, rolling onto her side as she connected. Kevin was standing over her and was knocked backwards by another crash, sending him tumbling over the fallen woman and landing hard on his back.

Another crash rocked the opposite side of the van, sending those seated tumbling over to their companions, while those who had already been sent to the floor were pulled back as they clawed their way back over.

Jake let out a loud grunt as Alyssa's athletic form came falling into him, temporarily knocking the wind out of him. Somehow, they had managed to latch onto one another and he held her protectively with his arms wrapped around her.

The reporter suddenly took notice of her current position and looked up to him awkwardly saying nothing. He too felt the discomfiture, but was far better at hiding his confusion.

A loud pop that sounded like a gunshot filled the air and immediately the van began to veer uncontrollably.

Tyson felt the tires giving out and begin sliding underneath, "Shit, we're going to crash! Brace yourself!"

"Oh great," Dorian sardonically replied. He couldn't just shout to these people that they were about to be involved in an accident for fears of starting an uproar, but at the same time he would be lying if he were to tell them that they were going to be alright. Besides, by now they were probably already aware of the out of control movement beneath them. He could only hope that this van was well armored enough to deal with a possible full force crash.

Surely enough, his fears would soon be realized.

Everything became a wild, dancing blur as something heavy connected with the van's front end and all sound was lost, save for the crunching of metal, followed by the shatter of glass and then Dorian's pained scream.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The accident ended as quickly as it had begun.

"Hey, is everybody alright in here?" a raspy voice called out frantically.

Jake Cavanaugh lay against the wall with his eyes shut. Frightened cries began to rouse him and with it, he began to feel sensations again.

He had temporarily blacked out from the force of the impact and winced as he suddenly felt a throbbing pain in his already sore head. Letting out a loud grunt, it was quickly followed by an anguished cry as he felt a sharp pain stab into his temple like an ice pick. Slowly opening his eyes, he quickly shut them again as everything twirled and spiraled in front of him.

"Focus damn it!" he half-shouted to himself, not caring if anybody heard him.

Placing both hands onto his temples, he attempted to steady his head and slowed down his breathing. Gently he massaged the sore spots until the pain could subside. Again he opened his eyes and found his vision much clearer, yet rubbed them in an attempt to get rid of the bright spots he saw as he tried to focus.

Once his sight had fully returned he began running his fingers through his scalp, pulling them out to find no blood present. He then rolled up his sleeves, felt down his legs and rubbed around his torso to feel around for any broken bones, but found nothing.

"_Definitely a good thing," _he thought with welcome relief.

The frightened cries of the other survivors began to register and he looked around at the rest of them, finally connecting the raspy voice to Mark.

As he turned to the others, the hired gun suddenly realized that only a few seconds before George had been knocked unconscious and had slumped onto his broad shoulder. He had unknowingly moved the good doctor off to the side after regaining consciousness, looking back to see the older man now stirring with signs of life.

"Anybody, say something," Mark shouted, frantically darting his eyes around the enclosed space, now heavily compacted thanks to the series of crashes. He was unharmed and was trying to ensure everybody else's safety.

The middle-aged guard quickly turned his attention to Cindy, who cringed tightly onto the bench next to him, bent down with her arms shielding her head and breathing in rapid succession.

"It's alright miss, just calm down," he spoke softly, helping the young woman into an upright position. A frozen look of shock was etched upon her delicate features and she remained mute. George took notice of her situation and staggered over to check her for signs of shock.

"What the hell was that maniac thinking?" David hurriedly called out, betraying his usual cool, silent persona. Perhaps the man was slowly beginning to crack after everything he had just gone through tonight, just another sign of how bad things really were.

Yoko sat next to David, completely frozen in place. She was still too frightened to speak and could only look around. Deep breaths were a telltale sign of the fear she was experiencing right now.

Lying in the aisle, Eric rubbed the back of his head. He had been struck by an empty shotgun case while placing himself on top of Miranda to safeguard her from any potential harm. Mark was already hovering over the two to make sure they were alright.

Jake found himself having to commend the young college student for his willingness to throw himself into the line of fire to protect others, but at the same time he felt the need to curse what he perceived to be a foolish action. He had found himself having to look after others in the past, yet he would also have to watch out for his own safety when needed.

This Eric kid may have been a compassionate fellow who would throw himself in the way of a moving semi truck to save the life of another person, but he seemed to be a little too willing to put his own body on the line for another. Jake knew if he kept it up he would be sent to an early grave, much like he had tried back at the barricade.

"_A possible demise before fate intends," _the hitman thought as Mark and Miranda helped him back to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Miranda asked after she realized what he had just done for her.

Indeed she was an attractive young lady who seemed like the kind that almost any guy would sacrifice themselves for. She seemed like someone who would truly be grateful with what had been done for her. This was unlike some people the hitman had encountered, who would sacrifice themselves in the name of another person who had supposedly meant a great deal to them, only to be backstabbed in the end.

"_What the hell am I thinking?" _Jake chided himself, _"These aren't mobsters I'm dealing with, just ordinary people."_

On the other side, Alyssa hollered in pain as Phil had fallen on top of her. She pushed against him, but the man didn't move, frozen in shock. David saw her predicament and reached over to help move the man into an upright position, giving her some much needed breathing room.

Jim sat next to her with his facial features contorted in fear and a fist raised in the air, clutching his lucky coin. The only sound coming from him was his manic, heavy breathing.

"Jim, are you alright? Jim! Speak to me damn it!" Mark shouted to the younger man. He did not respond. "Jim, wake up damn it!" he shouted again, yet still no response. Finally, Alyssa jammed her elbow into the subway worker's side.

He instantly shot up with his fist still raised into the air, "My lucky coin has saved my life again!!!" he triumphantly proclaimed, oblivious to the pain in his ribs. When he heard no response, he opened his eyes to find the others staring at him blankly and saying nothing.

"Sorry…" he muttered. Feeling embarrassed and now feeling the pain in his ribs he sat down.

Ralph was seemingly snapped out of his trance by the crash and began looking around the van.

"Oh god is everybody alright?" he asked to random people, anxious for a reply and nearly falling out of his seat, until George stood up and prevented him from falling.

Phil remained silent and tried to bury himself into the corner with his arms guarding his head from invisible terrors. "Please…please go away!" he finally muttered. The others did not approach for fear of him lashing out.

Kevin had finally managed to stagger back to his feet after bracing himself against one of the benches and turned to see the others were alright, before remembering his colleagues.

As if he didn't need any further prompting, Tyson called out from the front.

"Get me some help up here!" the riot officer called out, "Dorian's hurt bad. Somebody get up here and help me out!"

Kevin kicked the back doors open and leapt to the concrete, carefully scanning the area with his shotgun raised before bolting around to the driver's side.

The words also seemed to have a special effect on George, as one second he had been groaning lazily, recovering from being knocked out after the impact, to shaking it off and staggered after the officer. The others could also sense the urgency of the matter, following them closely. Only Jake and Phil were left.

The assassin sat there staring at the man across from him, who still held himself tightly as if he were shielding himself from the monsters that had attacked earlier.

This Phil character probably had a decent job, a loving wife and family back home, close friends and a seemingly normal life up until this heinous night. Now he sat in a terrified daze like he had lost everything.

Indeed there were probably plenty of frightened people like himself remaining, who had barricaded themselves in their homes and had stocked up on rations and weapons, waiting for any kind of cavalry to arrive and usher them to safety.

Part of Jake did pity these unseen residents, whom he felt were more likely to die rather than someone who was out on the streets at least moving around and trying to get out of this dump.

"_Staying in one location too long is like opening up a meat market to these freaks," _he told himself, _"If you want to survive, you have to keep moving."_

Carefully approaching the cringing man, he patted him hard on the shoulder. "Hey, snap out of it man!" he spoke firmly. The man did not respond and continued wallowing in his own horrified daze. The hitman again patted him hard on the shoulder, this time almost slapping him. "Wake up damn it!"

He went to smack the guy on the back, when he suddenly brought his hand up to deflect the blow.

"Don't you fucking touch me you heartless bastard!" he roared and brought his fist up to strike the career criminal.

Jake saw the man's fist coming and grabbed it in midair. With a fluid motion, he pinned the man's arm behind his back and shoved his face hard into the dented surface before throwing him down onto the bench.

Phil hit the wooden bench with a thud and then rolled over to the floor. Landing on his back he was able to see the taller man approaching him with his fists raised and brought his arms up to shield his face. "Please don't…"

Jake looked down upon the man and saw the fear in his eyes. He did not intend to strike the man, but rather intimidate him into not putting up a struggle so he could get a point across. Lowering his fists, he stood tall over the man and breathed deeply for emphasis before speaking.

"Look man, I'm sorry to rough you up like that, but you've gotta get a fucking grip on yourself! You can cry about getting fucked over later on, but right now we have to focus on getting out of here before the shit really hits the fan and you breaking down like this isn't going to make things any easier!

"If you want to make it out of this alive then you're going to have to pull yourself together. I don't know about you, but I'm determined to make it out of this mess and I'm not going to be slowed down because somebody can't control themselves. Now move your ass or sit here and rot! Your decision, pal!"

Phil did not respond right away and only stared at him wordlessly, his chest rising and falling at a much faster rate. He was visibly frightened of his much larger counterpart and it wasn't evident whether or not the hitman's words had sunk in with him.

With his little lecture finished, Jake leapt out of the van and joined the others.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The police van had struck the back of a semi trailer at full force and much of the front end had been smashed in like a stomped on soda can. Tyson miraculously had managed to escape unharmed thanks to his riot armor, but Dorian hadn't been as lucky.

"Come on damn it!" Tyson grunted as he had now pulled out his combat knife and was attempting to cut through Dorian's seatbelt. "Somebody help me get him out!" he shouted over his shoulder as he had now managed to cut through and struggled to pull his injured colleague out, who immediately cried out in pain as he was pulled free.

Kevin and Mark were on hand to help catch the injured officer and gently lowered him to the driver's side step and sat him upright. Several nearly recoiled at the sight of the mangled officer.

To call Dorian a mess was a complete understatement. He looked like a train wreck! Several cuts were present all over his face and his remaining hair had been matted down by a torrent of blood from a gash along his scalp. All of the blood had turned the older officer's light blue shirt to a dark crimson and there were several deep cuts all over his arms as well.

"Let me through!" George called out, followed closely by Cindy. The doctor quickly pulled some pills from his pocket and the waitress retrieved some healing herbs from her case.

"Dorian, can you hear me? Say something please!" George spoke, doing what he could to keep the officer alert. He worried for the man's safety and wondered if he would be alive much longer without adequate medical treatment. After a few tense seconds, a groan emanated from the suffering officer.

"St…stop…it…p…please…" the bleeding man groaned as he slowly shook his head to see George standing over him. He tried to raise his hand to wipe away some blood that had dripped into his eye, only to cry out in pain as he tried raising his arm.

The doctor looked down at the older man's arm to see that it had been broken and was probably only being held together by the skin on the outside. Some blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, indicating that he probably had a few broken ribs that might have punctured his lung. No doubt his injuries had probably been worsened by how his colleague had hastily pulled him from his seat.

"Try not to overexert yourself," the doctor ordered as he motioned for the man to keep his hands down. "You appear to be hurt very badly, but I don't want to move you because I don't want to do any further damage, but I will give you some pills that should help alleviate your troubles for the time being."

Tyson saw what the man was about to do and reached in for a bottle of lukewarm water, handing it to the doctor. Gently lifting the officer's chin up, George placed the three pills, one completely white, the second blue and white and the last red and white, into the officer's mouth and then slightly tilted his head back to pour some water into his mouth.

"That should help him temporarily," George said turning to face Kevin and Tyson, "I hate to say it, but with all the madness going on in this city we probably won't be able to get any paramedics out here right away."

"Well we've gotta do something. We can't just leave him out here!" Kevin said motioning to all the destruction around him.

"I wish I knew of a better way to help, believe me I do," George forlornly sighed and looked back to the injured Dorian.

He didn't want to say it right to Kevin's face, but the chances of his colleague's survival were very slim. The man wheezed heavily and coughed up some more blood as Cindy attempted to apply some of her herbs to his wounds. She could only stare back in worry as she felt powerless to prevent his eventual demise.

Jake stood off to the side watching as the doctor and waitress tried to perform a miracle on the dying officer. The others stood around silently observing the procedure with worried stares, hoping that somehow the officer's life could be saved.

Kevin stood behind Cindy, saying nothing as she did whatever she could to help. He seemed to be the most determined to save his fellow officer's life and the fact that he didn't possess the medical training to help this man was slowly eating away at him. His fists were tightly balled up and he looked like he wanted to explode.

"_Man, looks like Phil's not the only person who needs to pull himself together. That pig looks like he wants to go out and start shooting those things for the hell of it. He keeps that up and he's going to get himself hurt or worse…usually the fate of someone who tries to play hero," _the hired gun thought to himself when he looked directly into the van's driver side rearview mirror and saw a large figure step into view.

"Huh?"

He moved past David and Mark to get a closer look at whatever it was that he spotted in the rearview mirror and suddenly felt a chill when he noticed that the figure was carrying a powerful weapon that he knew all too well.

"Oh shit! Look out!" he screamed and charged towards the doctor and waitress, forcefully pushing them out of the way before yanking Dorian up from his seat.

"Jake, what the hell are you doing?" Kevin angrily shouted and tried to reach out for the hitman.

The other survivors were dumbfounded by Jake's actions, but they would soon find out why.

A hiss filled the air, followed by an ear-splitting whistle that Mark recognized from his days in the trenches of Vietnam, "Oh god, everybody fall back!!!"

A large dart-like object soared towards the police van followed by a trail of smoke and connected head on.

KA-BOOM!!!

The van exploded into a large ball of flame and sent the battered survivors flying in all different directions.

"What the hell was that?" Eric cried, quickly scampering back to his feet and pressing his hands to his ears hoping to block out the ringing that accompanied the explosion.

"It had to be a rocket!" Mark shouted over the roaring flames as he staggered over to help Alyssa and Yoko back to their feet.

"But from where?" Miranda added.

"Oh no…Dorian," Kevin shouted in panic as stared at the hunk of flaming twisted metal that had once been the van. He frantically darted his eyes only he spotted Tyson kneeling over a prostate figure.

"Over here!" Tyson called back with a wave. The riot officer placed the man's good arm around his shoulder and slowly lifted him back to his feet. Kevin and Cindy were then on hand to help him out.

Jim stood at the back of the group looking around for the source of the van's destruction. At the same time he ducked around hoping that the group wasn't in any more danger of hostile fire. Looking upwards to the rooftops he saw something that he wished he had never seen, something that looked like it was straight out of one of his childhood nightmares, something that would make him stand deathly still without a word.

"Jim, are you there?" Ralph called out, hoping for a reply from the usually whiny subway attendant. He noticed the man was staring at something above and looked up, only to begin shaking violently in terror. He clutched onto David's shoulder and spun him around, "Oh god…L-L-Look!!!"

The plumber let out a low gasp, "What the hell is that thing?" he spoke and then spun around to alert the others, "It's up there!!!" he screamed pointing to the rooftops.

All eyes were diverted to where David pointed, shock being their only immediate response to what they were now seeing. Jake too would find himself nearly frozen by what he was seeing.

"_Another monster…"_

Standing on the rooftop of a nearby apartment building was an abomination that looked like something ten times worse than the zombies they had encountered just moments before.

The creature stood about eight feet tall and was clad from head to toe in black leather. Two large rock-like formations were at the end of its upper appendages that must have been its hands. What appeared to be the creature's "head" was a lump of ashen, leathery-looking strips that appeared to be sewn together. Where its mouth should have been there were no lips present, flashing a permanent demonic grin. A single orb looked down upon the ragtag group, showing no signs of color other than the same soulless shade of white as the other zombies.

In its right hand, the gargantuan monstrosity proudly displayed what had caused the explosion, a Stinger missile launcher. Before anybody could react, the creature opened its mouth and uttered a single word with a demonic boom, sinister enough to drive even the bravest of men to tremble in fear.

"…S.T.A.R.S.!!!"

The monstrous growl frightened all of the survivors beyond belief, snapping them out of their trances and had them running around like rats in a maze. Kevin could only shout one order to the survivors.

"RUN!!!"

Despite having no data regarding any of these human beings, they had been unfortunate enough to cross its path. The beast was programmed to take no prisoners. Hoisting its rocket launcher onto its shoulder with relative ease, the creature squeezed the trigger and sent another rocket flying towards the survivors.

"SCATTER!!!" Mark hollered over the rocket's whizzing and dove behind a dumpster for cover.

The rocket struck a cluster of damaged cars, sending flaming shrapnel flying in all directions. Survivors dove for cover wherever they could, which wouldn't last for long. Fires soon spread along the concrete with all the gasoline spilt from the accidents, transforming into large walls that separated everybody into small groups.

"Aw…fuck!" Kevin grunted, forcing himself back to his feet after the blast knocked him airborne and sent him landing hard on his stomach. His bulletproof vest had absorbed a majority of the impact and nothing else felt broken. Slowly rising back to his feet, he brushed off his uniform and bent down to pick up his Colt .45.

"Man, I'd better get a fucking pay raise if I make it out of this one alive!" he complained aloud and turned to find Alyssa standing behind him, fretting over some unknown substances being sprayed onto one of her favorite suits. Yoko and Phil bumbled about as the smoke had greatly obscured their vision and had them coughing heavily. The officer felt the heat of the flames begin to sink in and he was forced to wipe a heavy amount of sweat away from his forehead.

Alyssa gagged heavily from smoke inhalation and Kevin would quickly rush over to support her. "This damned smoke isn't making things any easier!" she spat, grabbing a handkerchief to keep the wretched fumes from entering her nostrils.

The R.P.D. officer tried to move her to a safer area and stumbled across Dorian in the process. His colleague was breathing heavily, but otherwise still alive. Having guided Alyssa to safety, he then reached down and hauled the man back to his feet, quickly hunkered down as the man could only limp while clutching his side with his free hand.

"Come on, we've gotta get you someplace safe," Kevin spoke to his injured colleague.

"Go on…without me…" Dorian gasped, his head staring down to the blood-drenched concrete beneath him.

"No, don't you even talk like that Dorian!" Kevin barked at his wounded colleague, "Goddamn it you've come this far and I don't need to lose another friend to all this bullshit!" the younger officer continued, remembering the losses of Raymond, Arthur, Elliott and countless others who had perished in one night.

"Do it…I'll just…slow you down…" the man weakly pleaded.

"Well then go ahead, fucking slow us down!" Kevin replied, looking up to Alyssa, Yoko and Phil, who all stared at him in disbelief, wanting to get to safety as soon as possible. "I'm not leaving another man behind!"

"Kevin-" Alyssa cut in, using her most authoritative tone and displaying a scowl upon her features.

"Shut up Alyssa!" the officer shot back, "This guy's a damned good cop and I'm not leaving him behind! He might be a burden to you, but it's one I'm willing to take."

A series of thunderous footsteps suddenly filled the air and Yoko stared in wide-eyed fear with mouth agape, only able to point behind her.

Kevin, Alyssa and Phil turned around to see the zombie-like beast from the rooftop slowly marching towards them; the fires behind it making it appear as if a demon were stepping out of the bowels of Hell itself.

A gunshot erupted next to Kevin, causing him to jump and nearly release his grip upon his friend. When he turned he saw that it had come from Dorian's own gun. The gravely wounded man attempted to mount one final defense and continued firing at the behemoth, who continued pressing forth as if it were being pelted with spitballs.

Obviously angered by the bullets being fired in its direction, the monster let out a small growl and suddenly started sprinting towards the small group of survivors, completely catching them by surprise.

"_Since when the fuck can these freaks run?" _Kevin thought as he raised his own gun and began firing upon the monstrosity.

"Kevin, get the others out of here…now…I'll hold this…thing off!" Dorian weakly ordered and continued firing until the beast was just a few feet away from them.

"But-" the younger officer tried to finish, until he was forced to duck by a boulder-sized fist directed at his face.

The two officers fell to the ground and were separated from one another. Kevin tried to fire again, but his gun clicked empty and he scrambled for the shotgun still strapped to his back. By now the creature stood tall over him and reached down for him, clinching its fingers in anticipation.

Alyssa saw the officer's predicament and pulled out her own gun, "Yoko, Phil get moving. We'll catch up with you!" she ordered before squeezing her trigger. The pistol barked three times, its rounds catching the giant in its chest and neck before directing its one-eyed gaze towards her.

By now Kevin had withdrawn his shotgun and shambled back to his feet, firing a barrage of buckshot into the beast's back.

"Suck on that freak!" he shouted, pumping the gun again and catching it in the shoulder. The irritated monster whirled around and swung its rocket launcher at the cop, who quickly ducked the attempted strike, only to be caught a second later as the behemoth wrapped its massive hand around his throat and began to clamp down.

The officer tried to cry out, but found his airway blocked off and he could only stare in horror as the monster's lone orb locked onto his blue eyes. He could feel himself pushed down to the ground, like the beast was attempting to split him in half. A series of shots rang out and purplish liquids gushed from the back of the giant's head.

Releasing its grip on the bothersome officer, the brute turned to find a barely alive Dorian aiming his smoking gun defiantly at the beast.

The injured man had mentally counted his shots and was now down to one bullet with nothing left in reserve. It wouldn't be enough to put the monster away, until he took notice of a disaster waiting to happen.

A green S.U.V. sat parked halfway onto the sidewalk across from him at an awkward angle, gasoline pouring out of its tank. Its rear hatch was open and in the back he spotted a fuel tank for a barbecue grill.

"Kevin, get the others out of here now!" Dorian ordered and trained his aim on the tank.

The younger officer saw what his colleague was focusing on and tried running over to stop him. "Dorian, no don't do it!"

"Do it! Get out of here now…I'll slow him down!" the injured man shouted back.

Alyssa stepped up and caught the officer by the arm, "Come on! He wants us to get out of here! He wants us to live!"

Kevin once again found himself forced to fight back tears as he knew another colleague was going to sacrifice himself to save the others. It almost tore his heart out of his chest to think about this.

"Come on, let's go!" Alyssa said dragging him forth.

Reluctantly the officer chased after her and could only look forward, not wanting to see what was about to happen behind him. The two survivors sprinted down the street to meet up with Yoko and Phil, who waited patiently for them outside a subway terminal.

"Just get in there and don't look back!" Kevin shouted to the two and within seconds the four survivors were descending underground. A massive explosion rocked the ground above them as the officer was the last to make his way down. There was no explanation necessary for what had caused it, he knew better.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh shit, where did everybody else go?" Eric cried out, bracing himself against a nearby sedan to help him rise back to his feet. He looked to his right to find Miranda cringing in a corner, trying to block out the sound of roaring flames and perhaps fearing that the monster from the rooftop was nearby.

Noticing this, the college student looked around for any sign of the monster, yet could find nothing over the flames that surrounded them.

"Miranda?" he loudly whispered as he moved closer to the young woman, "Miranda, are you alright?" The young woman recognized his voice and looked up to him with tears in her eyes.

"Is that creature gone? I don't want to die…" she spoke in a cracking tone, unable to fight the fear overtaking her.

"_Oh my god…" _Eric thought to himself. This woman was truly terrified of dying and he too was afraid to die on a night like this. He could relate to her anguish, but they would have to remain stable if they were going to make it to the next sunrise. He would have to choose his words carefully in order to help her out.

"Yes, he's gone," he said reaching for her, until noticing she had dropped her gun and picked it up for her. "Come on, we have to find some way out of here," he added, placing a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder. He honestly had no clue if the beast was still around or not and wanted to get out of there just as badly as she did.

"I don't want to die Eric. Please, help me find some way out of this," she sobbed, throwing her arms around the young man's shoulders.

"Don't worry. I promise, I'll do whatever I can to help you get out of here alive," he spoke as soothingly as he possibly could, returning her tender embrace. He found this girl to be very attractive and felt great warmth from her touch, enough to temporarily melt away a lot of the pain he had experienced tonight. For once Hell had become Heaven and he was in the arms of an angel.

"_Worry about that other shit later. For now, just focus on protecting this woman," _he told himself.

"Is anybody there?" Mark's commanding voice suddenly called out.

The two young adults turned to find Mark scouring the area for any other survivors. They could see the security guard supporting David on one of his shoulders, having just helped him back to his feet after landing hard on the back of his head.

"We're right here!" Eric called out, helping Miranda to her feet and leading her over to the two other men, "What about the others?"

Before the guard could say anything, another chorus of moans was heard and the four survivors turned to spot another mass of zombies closing in on them.

"Aw fuck, no time for chitchat we've gotta go!" Mark said as he tried to help David further, but the plumber pushed him away.

"I'm okay now; just let me run by myself. I'm not a child," the plumber said rubbing the back of his sore head and leading the way into a side alley.

The three other survivors quickly followed suit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh shit, they're coming!" Jim blurted out as he spotted yet another army of the undead approaching them. He turned to see George sitting against a wall checking himself over for any possible injuries and Cindy searching for the spear she had dropped after being thrown by the force of the blast. Tyson ran up next to him and lifted his visor.

"Terrific…" the officer spoke sarcastically and turned to face the others, "Come on, we have to get out of here!"

"But what about the others?" Cindy asked trying to see over the surrounding flames for any potential survivors.

Tyson and George looked to each other, struck by the woman's words. They honestly didn't know what to think and if the others were alive, they didn't want to leave them behind.

"I don't think we have much choice left," the riot officer replied.

"If the others made it out alive, I'm sure they'll find shelter sometime or later. None of them can be too weak if they've made it this far with us," George added.

"Help…" a voice suddenly rasped from behind and the quartet turned to find Ralph staggering after them, brushing some flaming embers off of his already blackened clothes.

"Quick, come with us!" Tyson shouted, running over and grabbing the bearded man by his frayed shirt, "We have to get somewhere safe and fast!"

"We shouldn't be too far away from Raccoon General! Come on, we can head over there!" George suddenly piped up and the others chased after him down the alleyway, hoping the hospital could prove decent refuge for them.

A loud explosion resounded as they disappeared into the darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The flames were seemingly endless all around Jake as he stood surrounded by wrecked cars and dilapidated buildings. It was like he had just been transported into the lowest layer of Hell itself.

That huge monster was nowhere in sight and neither were the other patrons from the bar. Perhaps the demon had just given up, believing them to have been obliterated in the sequential order of blasts.

Although he had not bonded too closely with the others, he still found himself wondering about their safety and if they had all perished in the explosions, or if they had all somehow escaped and were now traveling about their own ways around the city.

He didn't want to admit it, but he had all of them to thank for making it this far. Right now though, he couldn't sit back and grieve. Strangely enough at the same time, he felt a brief sense of freedom because now the others weren't there to stand in his way. Now he could freely roam about without arousing suspicion. There was a troublesome scientist that needed to be eliminated and a handsome reward to be collected.

In the distance, the moans of the undead could be heard, and now he knew that those zombies weren't the only thing out there like he had thought earlier on. Now he knew he had been right in bringing his heavier weaponry with him.

Jake again withdrew his Beretta and made sure it was fully loaded before proceeding further down the street.

There was more death to be dealt, and within the coming hours more corpses would soon litter the streets.

Author's Note: Oh no, our favorite antihero is left on his own! Do you think that's going to stop him though? My magic 8-Ball says "No chance in Hell!"


	9. Ch 8: Into the Fire

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 8: Into the Fire

Nothing but violence, death and insanity surrounded Jake as he stalked the decrepit streets in search of his prey.

He stepped onto Durgan St. in the business district and by far, had probably seen the most damage he had in one night.

Several shops surrounded him, all with their front windows smashed and their merchandise looted. It was a sight that made the hitman shake his head, knowing how some people could be completely ignorant of the apocalypse occurring around them, letting their greed get the best of them.

_"What the hell am I saying? You have to expect that when they know the cops are already busy fighting those zombies," _he thought to himself in disgust.

Cars everywhere were demolished and several pile ups could be seen from the side streets. A city bus had spun out of control and collided head on into a flower shop and clock store, barring access to Forsberg Ave., or at least he assumed it was judging by the street sign that stuck out from underneath the wreckage.

Further down the street a fire hydrant had been knocked over and water gushed freely from the sewer pipe underneath, the likely culprit being a nearby ambulance that had crashed into a nearby diner with its lights and siren still going. The back doors were open and a blood-drenched gurney lay on its side nearby, hinting at what may have happened to its previous occupants.

A bullet-riddled police cruiser had swerved to a halt in front of an Audio Nation record store, probably the aftermath of a battle with looters. A lone figure sat in the back banging its head against the window, wanting to get out. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be another zombie that couldn't be much of a threat given its current situation, so he left it alone.

Most of the street lights had been knocked out and much of the illumination came from a large fire that had claimed a sports bar and grill on the corner of the Northwood Dr. intersection. At a malfunctioning stoplight sat a blue convertible with a white racing stripe down the center that appeared to be in almost pristine condition, until he found the driver's side door ripped open and covered in blood.

Everywhere he looked though, the criminal saw bodies littering the pavement. All of them had either been half-eaten or riddled with bullets, apparent that an all out battle had taken place on this street. It was among the bodies that he would spot something that touched him and made him stare in anger.

Passing a nearby toy store with blood splattered front windows, Jake spotted a small teddy bear lying in front of the entrance. The small plush toy was untouched by the madness surrounding it, so innocent and childish it was enough to even make him halt.

His mind was taken back to the battle outside J's Bar, where he recalled the little girl in the bloody pink dress. It made him think of the innocent children who had been caught up in this mess, small innocent children with no cares in the world who had loving families and bright futures ahead of them.

Sadly, this was no more. Many had already been killed and there were probably numerous others wandering the streets in search of their lost parents. The hired gun found himself breathing deeply and gritting his teeth beneath his closed mouth to avoid shouting out in anger.

Remembering his mission objective, he used his free hand to reach into his pocket and pulled out the picture he had been given of Dr. William Birkin to remind himself of what his target looked like.

_"This man could be anywhere," _Jake thought as he scanned the surrounding buildings and alleys for possible survivors.

In a chaotic situation like this, a highly valuable target like Birkin could easily escape with all the distractions present, but the criminal doubted that a scrawny, weak-looking scientist could hide anywhere for too long without arousing suspicion from others. There was still a possibility that he could be located in a heavily guarded, well-populated place somewhere in the city, like the police station or local hospital. Maybe he could still have been shacked up in this supposed hidden research facility that was mentioned in the documents he had received.

Even if the man did escape the city, Jake would still track him down and eliminate him with extreme prejudice.

"_Then again, could this man already be dead?"_

He didn't want to think about that possibility too much, but had to keep it in mind given the circumstances of the current situation.

It had been nearly an hour since the police van had been blown sky high and he was separated from the others. Even though he was not on a rescue mission, he would still find himself carefully leering into shop windows and lower level apartment windows looking for any possible signs of life.

Over the years he had trained himself to suppress his feelings of compassion for others, for it had only gotten in his way of completing mission objectives. Everything he had gone through tonight suddenly caused him to feel some concern and he secretly wished them the best in whatever would happen to the rest of them.

"_I'm sure they'll make it, at least most of them. They had that fire in their eyes, the will to survive," _he told himself again.

Jake patrolled the streets with his gun drawn, sweeping it back and forth like a soldier scouting for enemies. He came across a pet store where the front window had been splashed with blood. The litters that held the animals were empty, obviously finding themselves become a zombie's midnight snack when there were no humans left to feast on.

Next door was an antique shop where the front window had been smashed and several toppled stands indicated more thefts had occurred. Several corpses lay on the carpeted floor taken down with well-placed head shots. The scent of gunpowder didn't linger in the air, so this battle had probably occurred hours ago. There appeared to be nothing of interest so he continued forth when another torturous moan sent him whirling around again.

A balding man in a checkered sweater vest rose to his feet inside the antique store, facing away from him as it staggered along the counter. Not wanting it to become a greater threat, the hitman quickly put the newly-reanimated man down with a bullet to the back of its skull.

Several other moans sounded, coming from more than one individual. Jake cursed silently and slowly spun around searching for any would-be attackers. His trigger finger was already getting itchy and he again found himself begging for them to show themselves.

From the shadows of a nearby alley an obese man in a green tank top and black jeans shambled into view, followed by a brown-haired man in a denim vest and matching blue jeans, then a once beautiful woman with long blonde hair and wearing a revealing red dress, and so forth until nine zombies staggered into view.

"Here we go again," the hitman muttered to himself and fired a round through the obese man's left eye socket, leaving him to fall back and knock down two of his companions. The vested man was next to fall after taking a shot between the eyes and then the woman would fall as her nose was obliterated by another round, further erasing any signs of her former beauty.

"_Six more of these rotting fucks," _Jake thought observing his additional pursuers. They were spread out far enough to where he could just run around them if needed, but figured as long as he could keep enough distance between all of them he could eventually drop them one by one. _"Just have to keep them far away from each other."_

A young man in painter's coveralls stumbled towards him, groaning in frustration with his left arm extended, the other partially torn off due to the rapid decay. It would eventually fall to the ground as he moved towards his target.

"Disgusting," the hitman grunted, firing a round that caught the man below his right eye.

"Keep coming to me if you're that anxious to die you ugly bastards," Jake said as another female zombie staggered towards him. She was far enough away from her colleagues and he decided to take her down with hand-to-hand techniques to avoid wasting ammo. When she got close enough, he delivered a spinning back fist that snapped her neck back and then performed a jumping turn kick that caught her in the throat, hard enough to snap her neck.

"Piece of cake," he taunted as a grungy-looking man approached, quickly dropping the former human with a roundhouse kick and repeatedly stomping on its skull until it cracked under the force of his heel. Again withdrawing his combat knife, he jabbed it into the face of another attacker, leaving it to spasm before removing his blade.

Two more attackers remained and Jake leapt into the air with remarkable grace for a man of his size, performing a flying kick that caught the first attacker in the chest and sent it skidding backwards into a post office box. Landing on his feet, he quickly ducked low and performed a sweeping kick that dropped the second zombie face first to the ground. Flicking some congealed blood from his blade, he finished off both monsters in rapid succession.

Only one remained and already feeling exhausted from his recent kills, the hitman pulled out his gun and finished it off with a round to the skull.

"Damn," the criminal spat, wiping some sweat from his forehead and collapsing onto a nearby bench to stretch out his long legs.

"_I definitely didn't come here for this shit," _he thought to himself looking down at his digital watch. It was getting close to midnight and although he was used to being up this late at night, the recent chain of events had severely drained him both physically and mentally. Within due time, he would need another meal and a place to rest.

"_But where?" _he wondered. The Apple Inn had probably already been overrun by those zombies, especially what he saw as they left. The police station was probably another logical choice, which was probably still crawling with plenty of pigs left behind to hold down the fort. It would be difficult to find a safe place if he didn't have plenty of backup with him.

"As if things couldn't go to hell in a hand basket anymore than they already have," Jake muttered aloud, picking up a piece of concrete he found laying nearby and chucked it at one of the prone corpses. He smiled inwardly as it connected; thinking of what he was going to do when more of those things crossed his path.

"_I'll need some better weaponry though," _the hitman thought as he again stared down at his Beretta and then his combat knife, which still had blood from his fresh kills running down its surface. He still needed to get back to the hotel and get his shotgun, sword and grenades.

"_I'm definitely going to need more than what I've already got," _he told himself, thinking of the mass quantity of zombies he had already encountered and how he wouldn't have enough for every single one of them. There probably was a gun shop nearby where he could pick up some extra ammo, maybe stumble across an abandoned police cruiser or officer's corpse, or even somebody's house and find a gun or two stashed there.

"_I'm gonna need some bigger guns too," _he thought further, _"submachine guns, assault rifles, maybe even a heavy machinegun if I can find one." _Images of that bazooka-wielding brute then entered his mind, _"Something that can do a lot of freaking damage like a rocket launcher of my own…fuck they'll have to drop a damned nuke on this place to stop all these things."_

The hitman's reverie was broken by the all too familiar moans in the distance. Another large group of zombies could be seen closing in, one much larger than what he had just recently encountered.

"Time to go," he spoke aloud, rising back to his feet and running down the street.

Jake ran as fast as he could, bobbing, weaving and leaping over any debris scattered in the street, looking for a possible side exit. He found an alley with a locked metal gate and quickly made a beeline towards it. With no time to spare, he fired a shot into the padlock and kicked the gate open.

Another trail of dead bodies greeted the hitman, all with bullet holes through their skulls. Spent 9mm casings littered the ground around the corpses, largely concealed by the trashcans and crates that had been overturned. At least he felt safe; knowing none of them would rise up attempting to tear into his jugular. Carefully stepping around the prone bodies, he rounded a corner and discovered the corpse of a teenaged girl, who apparently had her head smashed in by repeated blows from a blunt object. Blood covered her lips and a trail near her body led to an opened gate.

Jake was about to follow the trail when a boarded up window exploded from behind him. Whirling around with his gun raised, he was met by a corpse so withered and decayed he was surprised it was able to even walk, the level of decay making its gender indeterminable.

"Sorry, but I can't let you get off your diet!" the hitman spoke and fired a round between the creature's eyes.

Clanks and crunches were heard from behind, signaling the others had entered the alley.

"Damn it all to fucking hell!" he hissed and made his advance towards the opened gate. Nearly throwing himself through, he slammed it shut behind him and slid the latch back into place. Slowly stepping backward, a loud, wet squish would stop him dead in his tracks.

A drying strand of human intestines lay on the ground beneath him, leading him to their owner. Another teenaged girl lay on the ground before him, her entire midsection, neck and left side of her face violated by her undead attackers. Not too far away from her body was a backpack that had been torn open, the shredded remnants of notebooks and textbooks surrounding it along with various school supplies.

"Son of a bitch…" Jake muttered to himself as he followed a trail of gore further down another darkened alley, until his foot brushed against something and he heard a metallic roll. A blood-drenched aluminum baseball bat lay abandoned on the ground and it had dried chunks of what he assumed to be brain matter already crusted to its surface.

"_Looks like you'll have to do until I can get my sword back," _the hired gun thought as he knelt down to pick up the discarded Louisville Slugger.

A loud ripping noise suddenly caught his attention, a sound he had become accustomed to after numerous encountered with the zombies, the tearing of flesh from bone.

"_More of those things…the fun just never stops," _Jake thought sardonically and hugged the nearest wall. He slowly inched himself further to the corner, expecting to find more of those former humans turned savage beasts. The rapidity of the tearing prompted him to draw his additional Beretta as he approached the edge. Ready for combat, he leapt out into the open.

Indeed he found another bloody feast, but with new perpetrators he hadn't expected.

Two dogs ripped away at the mangled remnants of a young man, his face still intact with his mouth open in a silent shriek of agony. The hitman's abrupt movements had distracted them from their meal and they both growled viciously, bloody chunks spilling out of their mouths. It was then that he could see they were no ordinary dogs.

A Doberman stood closest to him, crouching low as it prepared to strike. All of the flesh on the left side of its face had been ripped away, including its ear, and most of the skin on its sides torn away, exposing its glistening internal organs.

The other dog was a German Shepherd with its right eye torn out and maggots already festering in the new opening. Several splotches on its torso indicated that somebody had already shot it multiple times, but had failed to get the job done.

"So Fido is affected by this shit too?" Jake asked himself as both animals bared their bloodied teeth at him. They each snapped viciously, foam dripping from their mouths before making their charge.

Both animals moved at a much greater speed than the hired gun had anticipated and he found himself firing wildly with both guns. Several rounds had connected with their rotting hides, sending them crashing to the ground with loud yelps, but yet they recovered with inhuman tenacity and resumed their chase.

Going into a crouch, Jake continued firing away and finally managed to score a lethal shot on the Shepherd, catching it with a round to the face. The Doberman though, had been fast enough to dodge most of the bullets and was only grazed by a round to the shoulder. Again, the hitman prepared to fire when he heard the sound he so hated in a time like this.

Click!

"_No, not now!" _his mind screamed. It was then he looked up to see the mutilated dog leaping towards him with fangs bared.

In desperation, the hired gun threw himself to the ground, close enough to feel the beast sailing through the air above him and miss him by inches.

The demon dog collided head on with a heap of trash and yelped in pain as it hit the ground, scrambling to get back to its feet. Seeing his adversary in its vulnerable state, Jake scooped up his baseball bat and ran over, striking the beast hard enough to send it flopping onto its side. Raising the bat high above his head, he brought it down onto the beast's forehead and was rewarded with another sickening crack.

"Play time's over!" the hitman grunted towards his defeated attacker and reached down to collect his empty guns. As he did so, he locked gazes with the dogs' victim, who still stared towards him in post-mortem suffering. Finding a discarded newspaper lying nearby, he gently draped it over the dead man's face.

"_Man, this is some seriously fucked up shit. At least the O'Bannon's never put me through any of this crap," _Jake thought as he stared at the dead dogs. _"First I dealt with those zombies back at the bar and then that Frankenstein reject with a rocket launcher. Now animals are affected by this shit too? Heh, after tonight I probably wouldn't be too surprised if I started getting attacked by mutated plants and giant lizards. Maybe that Birkin shithead decided to send a welcoming committee to me after all." _Nothing else appeared to be of any use in the alley, so he moved on to the next.

The next alley took the criminal to another junction. To his right was a path that had been heavily barricaded by construction roadblocks, wooden tables, crates, broken off doors and other miscellaneous clutter.

To his left was another entrance to Durgan Street and to the waiting arms of several zombies that had already caught his scent and began marching towards him.

"Okay, now this is starting to get seriously fucked up," Jake grunted as he began searching around for any other escapes, finding only boarded up doors and windows. Finally, he noticed a chain link fence nearby that cordoned off a small alcove and behind it, a maintenance ladder spanning the entire height of the building.

"Looks like I don't have much choice," he said aloud and tossed the baseball bat over before proceeding to scale then seven foot tall fence.

Taking his time, the hitman found himself atop a five story apartment complex that offered a greater view of the streets below and with it, the carnage plaguing it.

More wrecked cars, more ransacked shops and more fires greeted his sight as he looked down upon the chaos, more of the same. Zombies still loitered in the area and most of them were drawn further down where another massive auto wreck cut the street off.

An RCNN news van had been forced to a halt before the pile up and standing atop the roof was the same gray-suited anchor he recognized from Main Street. Dozens of zombies surrounded the van and pressed their entire body weight against it in an attempt to knock their victim off. The man had no weapons to defend himself with and could only hang onto the railing, unable to maintain his footing. Eventually, the van was rocked with such force; the reporter would tumble into the horde. Within seconds, he was swallowed up like he was nothing.

There was nothing Jake could do to help the man, but didn't have time to dwell upon it. He had to get back to the hotel and get his equipment.

Straining his eyes to see beyond the smoke, he eventually caught sight of a gigantic bright red apple that stood atop a building in the distance and then remembered what he saw when he was looking for a place to turn in for the night.

"_The Apple Inn! I've gotta get over there!"_

He would need to find a path to get over there first. Again, he was forced to scan the area for any possible routes. There were too many zombies down on the street, so he would need to find another way around.

Fortunately, the adjoining buildings appeared to be close enough where he could leap from one to another until he found an area of the street that wasn't too populated. He assumed one of the buildings would have either a fire escape or sturdy drainage pipes he could use to slide down towards the ground. Once on the ground, he would have to fight his way through more alleys and if possible, have to take to the rooftops again to reach his destination.

"_I've snuck into worse," _the hitman thought as he stared at the large apple that stood out like a sore thumb among the concrete and glass. "Time to get to work," he muttered.

With a running start he leapt gracefully across. Not missing a beat, he continued his sprint and leapt over to another building, almost stumbling as he landed on a lower level. Seeing a wooden plank connecting the current building with its neighbor he pushed himself back to his feet and made another run. Having cleared that rooftop, he then noticed how the next was slightly taller. Breaking into another sprint, he leapt towards it and caught the ledge, struggling a bit before finally managing to pull himself upward.

Another gruesome sight awaited the criminal as he climbed over the ledge.

Resting against an air conditioning unit was the body of a long-haired man. His denim jacket was covered in scratches and decorated with red streams by the blood that had seeped out from underneath. Spent rifle casings and black feathers littered the surface around the dead man's body. Inches away from the man lay a bone dry hunting rifle.

Scanning the darkened skies above, Jake would soon find out what had murdered the man.

Announcing their presence in a cacophony of venomous caws, an entire murder of crows appeared. They seemed normal at first, until he noticed the same deathly stare in their small, beady eyes. With a malicious intent, they dove for the human.

"_Damn, I'm not safe anywhere,"_ the hitman thought as he hit the deck, barely avoiding the blood-drenched beak of the group's "leader." The desperation of the situation again had him withdrawing both guns. He took aim at a nearby bird flying dangerously low and pulled the trigger. A tortured squawk followed as it exploded into a mist of crimson liquid and feathers.

One threat eliminated, Jake searched for his next target and caught sight of a bird charging directly at him. Steadying his aim he fired another round and sent the airborne critter falling to the ground. With his other gun, he caught another low-flying crow in its wing, failing to kill it, but left it lying helpless on the roof crying out in pain.

"Screw you fuckers," the hitman spat, knowing he couldn't afford to waste his time with this nuisance. He turned around to leap for the next rooftop, only to stop abruptly and nearly lose his balance on the ledge.

The next building was right across the street and too far for him to jump over to. An old, rusted drainage pipe would allow him an improvised escape route, but there were too many zombies getting dangerously close. He had to think fast.

Hoping the creatures would remember some of their former self-preservation instincts; Jake drew his guns and began firing wildly into the air, hoping to scare them away. His shots connected with a few of the crows that attempted to dive bomb him, wounding most of them or just ruffling their feathers enough to scare them away. It had worked for the most part as they had temporarily backed off, but it wouldn't last for long.

Ducking low, the assassin grabbed onto the rickety old pipe and prepared for the long ride down.

He could hear the steely whines of protest as the pipe shifted beneath his muscular form and with it, the moans of the zombies getting louder. Looking down he noticed a largely empty dumpster waiting beneath him, something that could provide temporary cover as he made his landing.

The pipe now shook under his weight at a much faster pace as he could feel himself getting closer to the ground. Zombies below could sense his presence and now feebly reached up towards him, yet the cawing from above kept him moving down. A loud snap refocused his attention on the rusty pipe and he watched as degraded bolts fell before him.

"Oh shit!" he cried as the pipe fell away from the building and he felt himself sliding down at a rate much faster than he had intended.

His gloved hands slipped away and he fell hard into the dumpster, a pile of trash breaking his fall as glass and other objects shattered around him.

"Fuck…" was all Jake could say as pain surged throughout his body and he lay still, hoping nothing had been broken. He wanted to stay still until he knew he wasn't seriously injured, but the tortured wails and unbearable stench of decay pressed him forth as the zombies pounded away at the dumpster's sides.

"_This is the last time I accept an offer from a 'mysterious benefactor.' No matter how generous the offer is, the next one that comes my way, I'm gonna tell him to go fuck himself," _the hitman thought as he sat up, stifling his urge to cry out in pain. Rotting arms reached out for him and a few of the monsters even tried climbing in after him. More and more were now beginning to congregate around the dumpster, only separated by a short wall of steel keeping them from his still warm flesh.

Pulling out his bat, Jake began flailing away madly at the approaching zombies, sending more blood and brain matter flying through the air as he swung any who dared step into his line of sight.

"_Damn it, I've gotta get the fuck out of here!" _the hired gun thought to himself as he collapsed winded against the back of the dumpster, the hungry zombies still reaching after him.

Searching for any possible escape route, it was almost impossible this time as the zombies were crowded so closely together on all sides. He wasn't ready to give up hope just yet, knowing he would fight until his last breath if he had to.

"Time to get creative," he whispered as he searched the dumpster for anything of use. Trash bags mainly filled the area, but some of them appeared heavy enough to at least temporarily incapacitate some of the undead, he could even smell rotting meat in some, another possible distraction that could work in his favor. On the opposite side was a broken down TV set and sticking up from underneath some bags near where he landed was an old blue mountain bike.

Reaching down for some of the heftier bags, he grunted under the exertion and tossed them into those who immediately surrounded him. As he expected, some of the zombies began clawing away at the bags containing the meat. Pulling the bike closer to his intended escape route, he then lifted the broken TV and tossed it into the zombies barring his escape, ending with a shower of glass, plastic, metal and blood.

Jake lifted the discarded bike in front of him and swung at a few of the closer zombies before finally pulling himself out and stumbling as he hit the ground. More bony fingers reached for him, only to be swatted away as the hitman swung the bike at them.

Using the bicycle as a shield, Jake began to push his way through the crowd, occasionally kicking backward to knock down any zombies that tried sneaking up behind him. He plowed his way onward until the numbers began to thin out, prompting him to toss the bike aside and again withdraw his baseball bat.

"_Almost out," _he thought before swinging the bat upward and catching a bald man in a burgundy tank top in his jaw, snapping his head to the side. He could see another alley that was blocked off by an abandoned septic truck and could probably outwit his mindless adversaries by crawling underneath.

Having distanced himself from the crowd, Jake got down on his stomach and quickly crawled underneath.

The hitman found himself in an area that mercifully appeared to be clear of any immediate threats. He couldn't slow down though, as he recalled the zombies crawling underneath the police cruisers in front of J's Bar. Feeling a little safer, he moved at a slower pace.

From what he recalled, he should have been about a block away from the Apple Inn, trying to make a mental picture of where he saw the aforementioned apple from before. The baseball bat dangled limply at his side, droplets of blood leaving a telltale trail as he continued. It left him checking over his shoulder for anything that would possibly have the intelligence to notice such a thing.

The thought of creatures with advanced intellect made him think back to that beast with the rocket launcher. It was definitely far superior compared to the other zombies he had seen and left him to wonder if there were more of its kind out there. If there were, nobody would be safe.

A loud explosion sounded from ahead and the hitman again found his thoughts interrupted.

"_That came from the Apple Inn's direction. I hope it's not too far gone if that's the case," _Jake told himself, thinking of his equipment he still needed to gather.

Bolting down the desolate alley, the hired gun continued until he finally happened across a partially opened gate that displayed a sign reading "APPLE INN LOADING DOCK ACCESS AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY."

Intense warmth suddenly washed over him and he looked up to see the pillars of smoke rising above the wall, accompanying the fiery roar below. His fears had been realized, and now he was going to have to enter a burning building to get what he wanted.

"Shit…" he muttered as he approached the gate and stared up towards the burning structure. The brick exterior was already heavily scorched and an ominous glow shone through the broken windows, one that almost reminded him of the lit up Jack O' Lanterns he used to see when trick-or-treating as a child.

Jake inched the gate open as quietly as he could, gritting his teeth when it created a loud metallic screech that would surely expose him to whatever threats awaited nearby. The smells of decay and blood mixed with the smoke coming from above, eerie enough to make him withdraw his Beretta as he proceeded further into the yard.

Several corpses littered the area in various states of ruin. Some were splattered against the concrete, no doubt flung through the shattered windows as the explosion occurred. Many blackened forms were also present, burnt to a crisp and hopefully, too heavily damaged to be of any danger. A few of the figures were still smoldering and provided a sickly light for a largely darkened area. One of the figures still moaned with life as it lay on the ground with a piece of flaming shrapnel driven through its stomach, left to flail its limbs weakly.

"_So much for being subtle," _the hitman thought as he pulled out his gun and shot the impaled zombie in the head.

The shambling of feet followed the gunshot and two more decaying figures appeared from behind a large truck belonging to Tri-State Foods, Inc., each dressed up like members of the hotel staff. Both of them seemed to speed up a little as they caught sight of the warm human, who instantly dropped both of them with shots to their collapsing faces.

More footsteps sounded and the hired gun rounded the parked truck, its driver's side door yanked open and a trail of blood leading to a closed garage door. Another zombie, this one in a bloody gray jumper, staggered forth with bloody chunks dripping from its mouth as it advanced. Continuing with his march, Jake fired a lone round that caught the monster in its right eye, sending it slumping against the truck as it fell.

On an elevated platform, another feast took place. Nearest to him, a man in the blue shirt of a Tri-State Foods, Inc. employee knelt over the ruptured stomach of a housekeeper, tearing into her intestines. Next to him was a fellow employee who bit into the woman's now severed leg, like he was chewing corn on the cob.

Near the back of the platform two more zombies tore into another man in a guard outfit similar to Mark's. An empty shotgun lay near the dead man, spent shell casings surrounding the discarded weapon. Another security guard lay slumped against the space in between the two garage doors, a hole in the side of his head indicating he had taken his own life. His chest had been torn into and remnants of his heart dangled out in a sickly sight.

Jake said nothing and opened fire. His first shot caught the zombie dining on the housekeeper's intestines, sending it falling off the platform and landing hard on the back of its neck. Its former co-worker who had been biting into the woman's leg took notice of the shots, but was quickly dispatched with a few rounds through the face before it could rise to its feet.

By now the other zombies had taken notice of the commotion and began stumbling towards the hitman, only to join their "colleagues" in a swift death with bullets through their noggins.

"Damned freaks," Jake again muttered as he pulled himself onto the platform, careful to avoid the torn apart bodies. He had to find a way inside and approached the garage doors looking for a way in. Both appeared far too heavy to lift from underneath and the buttons that would open them did not work.

A nearby control panel had been forcefully pried open and several of the wires had been cleanly snipped by a pair of pliers lying near the dead guard. The extent of the damage was irreparable and who knew what had all been shut off inside the hotel as a result.

Jake looked around for any other possible way into the building and rounded the corner, where he found another maintenance ladder waiting for him. With no other choice, he began his climb.

"_Another trip into the fire. Not the first time it's happened to me and I have a feeling it's not going to be the last either."_

Author's Note: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter compared to my other "epic" pieces, but I will admit that I was a little shot on inspiration when trying to work my way around this chapter.

The scene with Jake having to use the bicycle is meant to be a reference to "Dead Rising," inspired by video clips I've seen of that game's protagonist Frank West using a large mall umbrella to plow his way through a crowd of zombies, which in that game also manages to actually kill them judging by what I've seen. It is also a nod to the original "Darkness Arises" in the scene where Jake is battling the looters and attaches a grenade to the bike and sends it towards them. What can I say? Gotta give props to the old school too!


	10. Ch 9: Nightmares Come to Life

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: After another bout with my modem deciding to take a shit on me yet again, yours truly has returned to the Land of Fan-Fiction! For those of you who may have been put off by the briefness of my last chapter, I return with another EPIC installment for your viewing pleasure, at least one that will probably force you to eat your meals at the comp and have a bedpan nearby. As always though, I wish to thank those who have supported this fic and those who furthermore have added this to their "Favorites."

Enough babble now. On with the story!

Chapter 9: Nightmares Come to Life

**September 25, 1998, shortly after midnight**

A wave of intense heat greeted Jake as he kicked down the door, nearly knocking him back like a swift punch to the face. The blinding light of a wall of fire forced him to cover his eyes at first, and then cup his hand over the right side of his face so his vision was protected.

It was already enough with smoke clogging the narrow hallway and the constant creaking of rickety boards leaving him on edge. Still, he had to get to his room and get his things. From what he remembered, he shouldn't have been too far away.

His eyes having now adjusted to the awkward lighting, the hitman now placed his hand over his nose to avoid breathing in the hazardous smoke. It was urgent that he found access to some fresh air soon or else he would suffocate.

"_I'd break a window, but not with those damn crows flying around," _Jake thought as he rounded a corner, only to encounter a zombie with its back to him. Its shirt was on fire yet it moved about, oblivious to the flames tearing into its flesh. He fired a round into the back of the monster's head, leaving it to collapse into a nearby fire and burn to a blackened crisp.

He turned his attention to the doors at his left, counting down the numbers until he reached Room 309, his room.

"Finally," he muttered to himself, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his red tagged key. Before he went to unlock the door though, he remembered what he had been taught while learning fire safety back in grade school. Removing his glove, he felt the doorknob to see how warm it was and then put his ear to the door for any unusual sounds, yet heard nothing.

Quickly opening the door, he practically threw himself inside and locked it behind him.

Slowly turning around, Jake let out a small sigh of relief as he found his room completely untouched by any signs of madness.

Furthermore, he found his duffel bag was still there.

Rushing over to his bed, he tossed the baseball bat to the side, which had become heavily warped after bashing in numerous zombie skulls, and quickly unzipped the bag to find everything was still there. At this point, it had to be the most beautiful thing he had seen since he had wandered into this accursed city.

Reaching inside, he pulled out the SPAS-12 and set it on the bed, then his sword, and lastly the line of grenades before grabbing all the ammo inside and jamming it into whatever pockets he could. He wasn't leaving anything behind after what he had seen outside.

Also present were the can of Umbrella first-aid spray and other medical supplies he had brought along with him. He almost felt sick knowing he was relying upon a product from the shady conglomerate to help him out, but knew he didn't have much choice and grudgingly slid the can into a compartment on his belt. Digging further through the bag, he found something he had completely forgotten about.

His fingers brushing against a long, metallic tube-like object, Jake pulled out the very silencer his old friend Fox had crafted for him a long time back. He had almost completely forgotten about it, but somehow fate had smiled upon him. It would work perfectly for when he finally encountered Birkin.

A low moan caught the hitman's attention, coming from his bathroom.

"What the hell?" he whispered, wondering how one of those things could have gotten into here of all places.

Drawing his Beretta, Jake slowly inched his way over to the bathroom and hugged the wall, readying himself for whatever lurked inside. Placing his hand on the knob, he turned it slowly, only to have it click as it was locked from the inside.

"_Weird," _the hired gun thought before bringing his foot up and kicking the door open.

Inside, he found the room completely ransacked.

Most of the ceiling tiles lay on the floor broken into tiny pieces, and among them was a heavily warped ventilation cover that looked as if something had chewed on it. The linen cupboard had been ripped open and most of its contents were also scattered about, covered in dust and blood. Several complimentary bottles of shampoo and other hygienic products provided by the hotel had been cut open and lay scattered about the room, their contents leaving a pleasant scent in the air of an otherwise disturbing environment. Above the sink, the mirror had also been cracked, a spider webbed pattern in the lower right-hand corner.

What also stood out about the room were several claw marks left on the walls, three deep markings with each pair. The sight had been enough to keep the hitman on edge and staring carefully towards the hole left in the ceiling.

It was then that he would take notice of the origin of the moans.

Slumped in the corner near the toilet was a dark-haired man wearing a gray jumpsuit covered in blood. His hand was covering an ugly gash that ran diagonally across his torso, a wound that looked close enough to have nearly disemboweled him. His head was resting uncomfortably on his shoulder, too weak to lift it up and look his new visitor directly in the eye.

"What the hell happened in here?" Jake asked, kneeling down by the wounded man.

It took great effort for the dying man to speak, enough for him to manage a faint whisper. "Be careful…those things…can hear us…"

"What things?" the hitman asked, but the man closed his eyes before he could answer.

Jake pressed his fingers against the man's neck, feeling no pulse. "Damn," he grunted as he rose back to his feet.

While backing up, the hitman had taken notice of his grubby appearance in the cracked mirror. It had been hours since he had last cleaned himself and right now he looked like he had just been trapped in the sewers.

His already rugged face was covered in filth and the dried blood of dispatched enemies. The black hair he usually wore spiked up was now matted down by sweat, and long bangs nearly obscured his vision. He knew this was an awkward time for it, but still he found himself removing his gloves and turning on the warm water.

"_Not like I'm expecting to find a date at this time, but still could use a good wash," _he thought as he began splashing his face with the warm water and squirting some liquid soap into his calloused palms.

Even while cleaning himself up, the hired gun still did what he could to keep a close eye on the dead man in the corner. He had no idea exactly how this "virus" that was transforming people into zombies worked, but still didn't want to take his chances. From what he had seen so far, it was only people who had been bitten or scratched that transformed, but yet he had to wonder if a deep gash like that could turn a person into something that would try to gnaw his arm off.

"_It almost looks like somebody took a machete to him, that gash looks too clean to have been done with a chainsaw," _Jake thought to himself, exhaling deeply as he stared at his now clean face.

All the while he had also kept a close eye on the hole in the ceiling and listened for whatever he could above the running water, ready to strike if something came after him.

Before he left, he caught a glimpse of the man's tool belt and stopped himself as he spotted more items he could make use of.

Keeping his eyes locked on the dead man's face to be on alert if he were to reanimate, Jake felt around until could feel the flashlight and roll of vinyl tape. With his items gathered, he quickly backed off and slowly crept backwards out of the bathroom, never taking his gaze away from the dead man.

Once he was back in the bedroom, the hitman made his way back over to his bed and scooped up the shotgun. Using what was left on the roll of tape, Jake attached the flashlight to the gun and flicked it on to make sure if it was still in good working condition before he left.

"_Now to get the hell out of this dump," _Jake thought as he made one last check to make sure he had everything he needed and then made his exit. Knowing he wouldn't be coming back, he simply tossed the room key to the side and made his exit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Footsteps!

They were light, but they could be heard from a mile away, and they weren't too far.

It couldn't see its target physically, but it possessed near superhuman hearing and had other ways of smelling its target. Right now, it was beyond excited.

Fresh meat!

That was all it could think about as it made its way through the narrow space at a heightened pace.

Other beings moved about, but they were already dead. They didn't taste as well as a still-breathing human.

Gunshots filled the air, followed by the thuds of dead bodies striking the carpeted floor. It was getting close and it hissed with excitement.

Time to strike!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake methodically pushed his way through the burning hall, gunning down several zombies that had been unfortunate enough to cross his path. He had almost felt tempted to try searching some of the rooms, but knew that they probably wouldn't contain much of what he was looking for, probably just more zombies or burning objects.

The hall had been much longer than what he had last recalled, and the nearest stairwell was probably further away than expected. He would have to find another way out as more of those crows had decided to make their presence felt as he made his way inside. One of them crashed into a circuit breaker and caused an explosion that took out a water tower on the roof. He had barely made it inside before the debris came tumbling down and blocked off his exit.

"Stupid fucking birds," he muttered to himself as he thought of the incident, their cacophonous caws still heard beyond the windows.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

The hitman stopped moving and withdrew his shotgun, holding it at eye level as a litany of loud clicking noises came from the darkness before him. Aside from the orange glow of the fires outside, the area had little in the way of lighting from several wall-mounted lamps that looked to be on the verge of dying out. A red toolbox was nearby and he assumed they had probably been in the process of rewiring the area when everything went to hell.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Jake did everything he could to block out the other noises around him, trying to focus his ears on this bone-rattling clicking noise. His efforts were failing as the beating of his own heart was pumping in his ears.

Switching on the mounted flashlight, a shadowy blur darted in the distance, prompting him to nearly open fire. It was only through an amazing display of restraint that he kept his finger from squeezing the trigger. Whatever this was thing was, it was fast.

"_Too fast to be a zombie perhaps?" _he mentally asked himself.

"Come on out you bastard," the hired gun whispered, wanting to get a good look at his new "visitor."

He moved the light around the cramped quarters as the clicking noises continued, yet whatever he was searching for still continued to evade him. The torch's light danced around until a ragged, raspy gulp came from above him, one that almost sounded like an old man's dying breath.

"What the-" Jake was about to say, until a heavy drop of saliva landed on his shoulder. Pointing the shotgun to the ceiling, he could only gasp aloud.

Before the hitman was a hideous monstrosity that looked like something straight out of a child's nightmare.

The creature looked like a human being that had literally been turned inside out, roughly the size of a full-grown man with razor-sharp ivory talons that clicked on the ceiling above him. Its brain lay partially exposed above scar-rimmed holes where its eyes should have been. Beneath it was a mouthful of equally menacing fangs that gave it the appearance of a shark. Complimenting its mouth was a long, snaking tongue that uncoiled and whipped from side to side.

To call it a mockery of nature was an understatement, it had to be a demon straight from the blackest depths of Hell.

"What on God's green earth?" Jake seemingly asked the creature as he backed up in shock.

To the few who knew him best, he could have been described as a man with ice water running through his veins, a man who seemed to be desensitized to all the violence around him. Right now however, he displayed a look of near horror as he fought to comprehend what stood before him, something that should not have existed.

He would have laughed it off if you told him such creatures existed, but before tonight he also would have laughed off the existence of the undead and eight foot tall demons with bazookas as well. The hitman did what he could to shake himself out of this trance, knowing he couldn't let something as petty as fear overcome him.

With an astounding speed, the creature turned itself upside down and landed on the floor before him. It was now perched on all fours and crawled slowly towards him before it let out another ragged hiss and shot its tongue out at the career criminal, missing his neck by mere inches.

"Shit!" he blurted aloud as he observed the crack left in the adjoining wall by the demonic mutant. Its tongue appeared to be sharper than a lance; one strike could mean the end.

"_Not tonight!" _he told himself. Raising his shotgun, the hitman opened fire upon the creature.

The monster leapt out of the way with lightning speed and latched itself onto the nearest wall, quickly scuttling along the surface before it let out another hiss and launched itself towards Jake with claws extended.

"Son of a bitch!" he cried, barely rolling out of the way just in time. A tearing noise was heard and the hitman looked down to see a small portion of his trench coat had been caught by the monster's claw, indicating how close it had been to decapitating him. He would have to be quick on his feet if he wanted to beat this abomination.

Dropping to one knee, Jake fired another shot at the creature, which flipped out of the way and left a section of plaster to explode where it had been just a second before. Pumping his shotgun, the hitman fired again and was rewarded with a tortured squeal as the shell exploded against the red monster's side, leaving it open for another attack.

With another pump, another round was fired and a sickening splat followed as more flesh was torn away from the creature's lithe body, but yet it still lived. Using its remaining strength, the monster flipped over onto its claws and took another swipe with its tongue, nearly striking its opponent's shoulder. Despite its weakened state, it wouldn't give up pursuit of its adversary and would not go down without a fight.

It was time for Jake to show no mercy.

Chambering another shell, the hitman fired again and struck the beast in its left shoulder. Now crippled, the creature let out another gut-wrenching squeal as it tried in vain to crawl after its prey, succeeding in only writhing like a bird with its wings clipped.

"_Time to finish this," _Jake thought.

He could only stare grimly at the creature as he chambered another round and following a massive boom, its head exploded in a crimson mist.

"Goddamn…" the hitman muttered as he stared at the dead creature. _"I wouldn't doubt it at all if this was Umbrella's doing," _he thought as he loaded some fresh shells into his SPAS-12. "I just wonder what the hell they call you: Salamander…Licker…Giant red freak."

Placing a hand on his unshaven chin, another thought suddenly popped into his head. _"Could this be what that guy was trying to warn me about? Those things that 'hear' us,"_ he pondered as he recalled this thing having no eyes.

More footsteps sounded in the rickety hall and Jake again found himself on guard, but quickly lowered his weapon when he realized they were too fast to be those of a zombie, more so with the purpose of a human.

"Whoa, don't shoot!" a youthful male voice called out.

Not saying anything right away, the hitman let his light travel up the man's form, revealing blue jeans, the red and black plaid shirt and the shotgun dangling at his side.

"Eric?" Jake asked aloud.

"Jake?" the college student asked before taking a few steps closer, "Jake, is that you?" His boyish face and fiery red hair came into view.

"In the flesh," the hitman replied and let his shotgun hang at his side.

Eric looked over his shoulder, "Miranda, you can come out now. It's just Jake from the bar!"

Miranda Bennett stepped into view, now wearing a backpack strapped to her back. "Oh my god, Jake!" she shouted.

"What are you doing here man?" Eric asked walking closer to him, "And where did you get those?" he asked, first pointing to his shotgun and then the sword strapped to his back.

"It's a long story," he replied matter of fact, "What are you two doing here?"

"We came here after the van got blown up," Miranda replied, "We thought we'd be safe here, but the boiler blew up and then…" she suddenly started to tremble as she took notice of the dead red creature lying on the ground behind the hitman.

"Let me guess, you encountered some more of those tongue creatures like our 'friend' here?" Jake asked.

"You got it," Eric almost blurted as he tried looking away from the dead monster. "Those things are all over the place."

"Terrific," the hitman replied rolling his eyes, "Are you two here all by yourself?"

"No," Miranda replied staring out the nearest window, "Mark and David are with us. We split up so we could cover more ground."

"David said he was familiar with this place and told us to meet up with them at the security office," Eric finished.

"Well we'd better not stand around chatting then," Jake said taking a look around the hall before returning his attention to the two survivors. "How are you holding up for ammo?"

"I'm low for this bad boy," Eric replied, displaying his shotgun, "I have those tongue freaks to thank for that." It was then that the hitman finally took notice of the tool belt he now wore as he pulled out a Beretta of his own. "I found this in Room 320 and a bunch of magazines for it. I gave some to Miranda already."

"I just have my gun," Miranda replied and removed her backpack from her shoulders, "And I found these in the room next door," she said displaying a black case with a gold cover.

"Vitriol rounds," Jake said aloud. He was familiar with those things alright, they were acidic rounds used for most grenade launchers. Whatever they were doing in this hotel of all places was beyond him. "Wonder how those babies found there way here. We'll have to worry about that later though."

Muffled clicking and throaty hisses came from above, followed by a heavier creaking that sounded directly above Miranda.

"Oh shit, Miranda come on!" Jake shouted, quickly grabbing the woman by her arm and flinging her backwards. The ceiling collapsed above them as another red demon came falling through.

"Let's move!" the hitman shouted as the monster uttered a primordial cry.

The monster leapt toward Jake with its right arm drawn backwards, ready to slash him down the center of his chest.

"Fuck!" he shouted as he barely sidestepped the attack.

Eric saw his predicament and fired a round that caught the creature in its side, shattering several of its ribs and sending it falling hard to the floor. With the monster grounded, he fired another round into its back, destroying its spinal cord. The creature was not dead, but squirmed on the floor unable to move. It would eventually die within minutes from blood loss.

Their escape out of this hall had been blocked off by the fallen, burning debris and they were once again forced to turn around.

"Where are we going to go now?" Miranda asked as she stared at the doors and listened for any activity on the other side.

"We might have to get a little 'creative'" the hitman replied, walking up to a door labeled "307" and jostled the knob a little before finally kicking the door. His blow echoed throughout the hall, but nothing happened right away. He kicked it again and again before it finally gave way. Eric and Miranda both gasped as the door flew open.

The trio was greeted by the sight of a younger man hanging from a pipe above an opened ceiling tile. An overturned chair lay on the floor beneath him.

"Wait out here, I'll search the room," Jake ordered, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

Pulling out his sword, the hitman sliced the cord wrapped around the dead man's neck and his body collapsed to the floor with a loud thud that would surely attract the attention of more of those things, if they were still around.

The man wore a white button up dress shirt, black slacks and a black tie, like he was some kind of office worker or something. There didn't appear to be anything of importance on his body or in the room, until the hitman's eyes shifted toward the desk and he saw a familiar red and white symbol that caught his attention.

The Umbrella Corporation's symbol!

Walking over and swiping the paper from the desk, Jake was disappointed to find it was only a memo regarding the itinerary for some quarterly financial meeting going on at the company's main headquarters. Other than being addressed to a Colin Leach, it gave away no other important information.

Grunting in frustration, the hitman was about to crumple up the piece of paper, until he held it up to the light and noticed handwriting on the back. He flipped it over to find a suicide note written in blood red ink:

_Damn it all to hell!_

_I should have never come to this city, hell I should have never even gone to work for Umbrella in the first place! Maybe I should have listened to all those outlandish conspiracy theories Miles used to relate to me over our coffee breaks._

_He used to work for Umbrella himself and claimed to have this friend named Blair who used to be part of some "top secret military unit" employed by the company that was used to assassinate business rivals, kidnap bums off the streets and battle "unreal creatures" and do all sorts of other things for the company._

_I could never believe such things because I worked for a pharmaceutical company, not some government agency. He really started upping things once this guy disappeared on him, but still I paid him no heed._

_Now here I am stuck in this godforsaken shithole with things that shouldn't even exist! God, I still remember those things ripping apart the bus driver when I was on my way back here…I still pinch myself hoping that I will eventually wake up and this will all have been one huge fucked up nightmare._

_There's nothing more I can do now. I have to end it all. I'm sorry, but I'm just one huge worthless coward and this world will be better off without me. All I can do now is die while I'm still human, before I can become one of them._

_Please forgive me cruel world,_

_Colin Leach_

Jake tossed the letter aside and stared down at the dead man, who hadn't risen up to attack him. Other than the ligature markings around his neck, he bore no distinctive wounds and would perhaps be spared from becoming a zombie.

Finally taking his gaze away from the body, he made his way over to the window and looked down, only to find a drop straight down into the cargo yard below and to the waiting hands of more zombies that had staggered in. Opening the window a little, the hitman left enough space for him to stick his head out and saw a ledge and fire escape to his left, but it was a few rooms over.

"Okay," he whispered to himself and made his way back to the hall, where Eric and Miranda still waited anxiously.

"Come on, I might know a way around, but we have to go a few rooms over," he said, leading them down the hall.

Counting mentally to himself, the trio continued until they came across Room 301 and it was there Jake had ordered them to stop.

Listening for any sounds, he eased the door open and led the way inside with shotgun raised, followed closely by Eric and then Miranda.

"Alright, I hate to do this, but in order to get around we might have to climb out that window over there and navigate the outside ledge. I saw a fire escape that could lead us down to the next level," the hitman explained as he walked over and opened up the window.

"Are you nuts?" Eric suddenly blurted out, shifting his gaze back and forth between Jake and Miranda.

"What's the matter? Scared of heights?" Jake chuckled as he readied to open the window. He was only met with a stiff silence and the younger man clenching his fists like he wanted to haul off and hit him.

The splintering of wood sounded from behind and the trio turned to see the bathroom door shudder under the weight of a body. A zombified woman moaned intently on the other side, trying to break the door down.

"Or would you rather be stuck in here with her?" the hitman asked, now opening the window and stepping to the outer ledge.

"Eric please," Miranda pleaded, "I'm afraid of heights too, but we have to keep moving if we want to live. We have no other choice."

Jake had now made his way along the ledge, which was barely wide enough to support his big feet. He had to move with his back as tight against the wall as he could afford. It wasn't an easy task for a bigger, muscular figure like his, but it was another matter of desperate times calling for desperate measures.

He looked down into the cargo yard to see more zombies staggering about, some of which were slowly beginning to lose interest and move on in search of a different place that could possibly provide them with warm morsels of human flesh.

"Just a little further," he whispered as he caught sight of the fire escape. As he got closer though, he could hear the rampant sound of someone pounding on glass. At this point in the inferno, he doubted it could have been a human survivor and slowed his pace.

Approaching the weakened window, he finally caught sight of the person pounding on the window, only to find it was a female zombie that was already on fire. A wall of fire was flaring up behind her and he quickly backed off as he noticed the trail traveling after her. An explosion of glass and flame followed as the female zombie was finally forced out of the room and sent falling to the ground below.

Another flare up followed and Jake bristled as he felt the heat of the flames next to him. The flames burned for several seconds before finally retreating back into the room. Looking to his left, he noticed that Eric had finally been coaxed onto the ledge and took baby steps towards him, followed closely by Miranda.

"Careful, backdrafts up ahead!" the hitman shouted to the young people and waited before making it safely across and onto the platform that would take him to the lower level.

Familiar ominous caws filled the air again and Jake grunted in disgust as he could see another crow flying straight towards Eric.

"Oh shit," he muttered drawing his Beretta, "Eric, hang tight!" he shouted and fired a round that caught the undead bird in midair. "Now!" he ordered, scanning the area for any airborne threats as the two youngsters made their way towards him. Within seconds they had finally reached him and he helped both of them onto the platform.

The trio made their way down the ladder and back inside the building, only to be met by the sight of another decapitated zombie.

"Shit," the hitman muttered and raised his shotgun, motioning for his two companions to stay silent behind him.

They were trapped in a narrow bluish-gray hallway that Jake could barely fit his frame into and would make firing a shotgun hazardous in. He knew a silencer could probably work against an adversary with super sensitive hearing, but doubted a regular gun would be powerful enough to kill one of those "Licker" things and knew they would be too quick to attempt a head shot upon.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Their fears were answered by the dull, simplistic sound, which had come to foreshadow a possible life and death struggle for the battered humans.

Jake again looked back to his two companions, to see that Miranda had begun to whimper quietly and shake uncontrollably, doing everything she could to lessen the amount of noise she was making. He wanted to get after her, but knew it wouldn't be much help. His eyes then shifted downward, where he noticed the Beretta magazine dangling precariously from the corner of her hoodie's pocket and felt his eyes widen as it clattered against the floor.

Zooming in on the sound like a heat-seeking missile, the next Licker appeared before them in a red blur, clinging to the wall and letting out a frightening shriek before launching its tongue at them.

Again the hitman had forced himself to make another lightning-quick evasive maneuver, resulting in part of his coat's collar being ripped away and him dropping his shotgun.

"Oh shit! Oh shit!" Eric blurted out and began firing wildly in the close quarters, forcing both Jake and Miranda to duck so they could avoid the scatter of his buckshot. His shots were wild and plaster rained down upon the trio as he tried to nail the crimson beast, who managed to gracefully avoid most of his shots until it was caught by shrapnel from his last round, and staggered along the wall it clung to.

Jake had by now reached for his dual Berettas and began firing wildly, most of his bullets smacking into the Licker's brittle hide, sending it sagging to the floor below. Scooping up his shotgun, he ran over and blew up its skull, painting the confined quarters a sickly shade of crimson.

Feeling the stares of his two companions, the hitman coolly ejected his spent shell, "Just get moving," was all he said, keeping a close eye on the now headless monster and remaining on the lookout for any more.

The rest of the passage contained labeled doors, one leading to the security center, which at the moment was inaccessible due to nobody having the required card key to open it, a storage room, another room belonging to a "Jarvis Blakely," who was listed as the owner, and a Room 201.

Once again the hitman stepped up as leader of the trio and spoke towards his companions, "I'll search Room 201 for anything and you two search the storage room, see if you can find anything of use."

"Alright, we'll be out if we hear anything suspicious," Eric replied and then nodded to Miranda before they both disappeared into the room.

Pumping his shotgun, Jake cautiously approached the door and nudged it open a crack, stopping when he heard the sounds of masticating. Easing the door open, he found another one of those tongue monsters hunched over the form of a dead guest. The beast could sense his presence and quickly spun itself around, rasping with murderous intent.

This monster hadn't been as fast though, and the hitman fired a face full of buckshot that sent it sprawling backwards onto its victim's prone form. For added measure, he fired another round into its contorted face to silence it for good.

"_Damn it, I've already encountered four of these freaks tonight and in one location. I wonder how many of these things are crawling around the city alone. It'll be a field day for the rest of the world if these things manage to get outside the city limits," _he thought grimly to himself as he searched the room for anything useful, only managing to find another first-aid spray in the bathroom.

"Is everything alright in there?" Eric called out from the hallway.

Jake reentered the hallway to find both him and Miranda standing with weapons ready.

"Another one of our skinless friends decided to make his presence felt," the hitman replied and pulled out the first-aid spray, "This was all I managed to find. You'd better hold onto this, I've already got one," he said tossing the can to Miranda. "Did you guys find anything useful?"

"More bullets and some herbs," Miranda said patting her backpack before pulling it onto her back. "I think I might be able to mix some of those herbs."

"Really," Eric asked, "I didn't know you were into plants. I thought once George and Cindy were gone we were screwed."

"When you have a botanist for a father and have your basement turned into his own personal lab, it's kinda hard to not pick up a few things along the way," the young woman explained and suddenly elbowed him in the side, "You could probably pick up on a few things if you would stay awake in those college science classes of yours."

"I'm a philosophy major, not a science major," Eric playfully retorted, "Just what kind of drug lab are you talking about down there? I'll bet the D.E.A. had a field day with you guys!"

"Will you shut up about that?" Miranda irritably snapped, "You have no idea how much I got that back in high school."

"Hey, can we save the banter for later?" Jake cut in, "In case you still haven't noticed, we're trapped inside a burning hotel with a bunch of skinless, wall-crawling freaks lurking about!"

"Uh right," Miranda replied, looking embarrassed by the sudden realization. Eric shared a similar look next to her, but said nothing.

Another darkened corridor awaited the three survivors, lit only by the moonlight from outside. The sounds of dragging footsteps were heard in the distance, again prompting them to remain on heightened alert. Rounding another corner, they came face to face with another zombie standing idly with its back to them.

Rather than going for his gun, Jake instead reached for the katana strapped to his back and dashed towards the lone zombie.

"What's he doing?" Eric asked aloud.

The zombie had only taken notice of the hitman's footsteps when he was nearly on top of it and barely had time to whirl around before he brought his blade up and made a single, deadly swipe.

Jake smirked to himself as the zombie's head fell from its shoulders and rolled lazily to the side as the rest of its body collapsed in a heap.

He turned to find his two companions rooted to their spot, the dim lighting making it difficult for him to tell if they were staring at him in awe or horror. A round of gunshots and deep booms from a shotgun sounded from below, snapping them out of their trance.

"Shit, that must be Mark and David!" Eric shouted, quickly looking out the windows to see if his other companions were in the courtyard below.

"We've gotta help them," Miranda replied, rushing after him with her gun drawn, until a door exploded from her right and a jet of flame shot out.

Luckily, she had managed to hit the ground just in time, the flames only scorching some of the material on her backpack. Both men reached down to quickly pull her out of the way.

"That was close," Eric stated as he helped her back to her feet.

"No kidding," she replied, only to abruptly raise her gun and fire at the window across from her.

Jake noticed the shadowy figure dart away from the now shattered window, but didn't need to be told twice what it was. All the noise they were making was starting to attract these things and he just wanted to keep moving.

He continued running further down the corridor, only to find it was cut off by a burning hole in the floor. A lone zombie in a bloody blue shirt stood on the other side, suddenly coming to life as its soulless eyes caught sight of the living humans. Completely ignorant of the hole before it, the undead man fell into the jagged debris below, still twitching with signs of life.

"What now?" Miranda asked, "We're trapped!"

From the corner of his eye, the hitman spotted a clipboard lying near the now shattered window and quickly scooped it up, revealing a maintenance order to repair a large hole in the wall of Room 226. Coincidentally, they were standing just outside the aforementioned room.

"Not quite," Jake said tossing the clipboard aside and delivering a hard snap kick to the locked door.

As mentioned, there was a large crack creating a large hole at the bottom of the western wall of the vacant room, where a bald zombie was currently in the process of climbing through. Eager to eliminate the threat, the hitman ran over and stomped on its neck repeatedly until it broke.

"Through here!" Jake said, motioning to the hole as he dragged the zombie's carcass out of the way.

"Not exactly what we had in mind, but it'll do," Eric sarcastically quipped and started to crawl with his handgun out in front of him.

The other room had nothing in store for them and they were back in the hall, where they happened across a door labeled "Boiler Management Office." Entering with weapons drawn, they found no threats, but did find some more shotgun shells which the two men divided amongst themselves.

A door labeled "Boiler Room Access" was at the back of the small room and again Jake decided to explore the room alone.

Yet another wall of smoke greeted the hitman as he stepped through, shining his flashlight through the area and being careful for any possible breaks in the railing. Waving some of the smoke out of his way, he eventually found a figure slumped over the railing in from of him, three deep gouges in his back. He stiffened upon the sight and waved his weapon around to illuminate the area for any more possible threats. Nothing could be seen, until something glimmered on the platform next to the dead man.

Inching over towards the corpse, he knelt down and picked up a green and white keycard labeled "Security Office Access." He recalled what Eric had told him about David wanting to meet up at the security office when everything was said and done.

"_Looks like I know where we're going to next," _he thought to himself rising back to his feet, only to stop when he caught sight of what had to be the cause of the blaze.

An ancient boiler stood at the bottom of the room, flames still shooting out of the numerous tears in its steel surface. Several pipes had been knocked out of place and were belching smoke in all directions, most of which escaped through an opening down below after a door had been knocked from its hinges by the initial blast.

Through all the smoke, he had managed to spot a prone figure lying flat on its back, clad in the black and yellow gear of a Raccoon firefighter. Above him, he noticed another figure in similar attire lying facedown.

"_They must've been trying to carry out some kind of rescue mission when everything went to shit," _Jake thought, noting that he hadn't encountered any other fire or rescue personnel during his visit, _"Unless those skinless freaks got to them first."_

Stepping back through the door, he prepared to lead his companions to their next destination.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The trip back had mercifully been an uneventful one for the three survivors as they now stood outside the double doors of the building's security office.

Sliding the keycard through the slot, a mechanical beep sounded and a green light flashed on. Nodding to the others, the trio entered with their weapons drawn, only to lower them at the sight of a familiar face.

"David!" Miranda called out to the gruff plumber, now standing near a table with several weapons laid out on it. He was covered from head to toe in blood, but otherwise still in one piece.

"Glad to see you made it back," he said to the young woman, only to halt when he was greeted by a fellow survivor from the bar. "Well I'll be damned, your lucky ass actually made it here of all places."

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," a raspy voice chuckled from the side.

Seated at a control console to their left was Mark Wilkins, his navy blue jacket removed and a bloody bandage wrapped over his left upper arm, his white shirt underneath heavily stained. Another bandage was wrapped around his lower right leg. Aside from that, he was still alive and well.

"Yeah, I'm happy to see your two 'beautiful mugs' too," the hitman chuckled as Eric shut the doors behind him. Heavily exhausted from his recent skirmishes, he plopped himself down in a chair at the table and exhaled deeply.

"So how did you manage to find your way over here?" David asked sitting down next to him, "This isn't exactly the safest place to be either."

"Tell me about it," Jake grunted as Eric and Miranda now joined them at the table, "I don't think any place is safe around here. How I wound up here is an even longer story."

"Yeah, right now all we have to worry about is getting the hell out of here," the plumber replied, "For now we've gotta take a long overdue breather after what we saw out there," he said motioning to the door he had entered through.

"No kidding," Jake said and then looked over to Mark, "I take it you had a run-in with some of those skinless tongue freaks too."

"Heh, nearly eaten alive is more like it," the old guard chuckled bitterly, "Those skinless shits nicked me up a couple of times, but I'll manage."

"So where will we go once we're out of here?" Eric asked, now entering the conversation.

"Well those cops were saying something about the R.P.D. setting up an emergency shelter over at the First National Bank, might have to head over there," Mark said, wincing slightly at a stinging pain in his arm. "It would be a more likely choice, the R.P.D. building is too far of a trek, unless we somehow managed to get our hands on some wheels until then."

"I don't know about that," David cut in, "all those car crashes and other debris we saw lying around…that might make getting a ride just as dangerous as going on foot."

Jake sat off to the side and now took notice of some of the weapons that had been laid out on the table. Along with two shotguns and David's repaired handgun, there was surprisingly a grenade launcher present, which Miranda had loaded the vitriol rounds into. There were also boxes of handgun and shotgun rounds scattered around. A crude hammer lay there as well, consisting of a concrete piece taped to an iron pipe, which he had noticed the plumber assembling back on Main Street after the blast. The concrete piece itself was now covered in blood on one end, recently used.

Also on the table, he took notice of another crudely constructed object that looked like a battery taped to an iron pipe.

He looked over to David next to him, who was currently in the middle of skimming through an evacuation procedures manual, "What the hell is that?" he asked, motioning to the object.

"A makeshift stun rod," the plumber smirked, sparking it to life in a brief demonstration, "You'd be surprised what you can do with some simple household items lying around."

Miranda meanwhile was going through everything she had recovered in her backpack, pulling out a red ID tag, "Almost forgot I had this."

"I see you found one of those too, huh?" he spoke to the young woman, pulling a similar tag out of his pants pocket.

"Yeah, those poor brave men," she replied, walking over and taking the extra tag to place in her backpack.

"Two firefighters," Eric spoke up, noticing the hitman's attention being diverted, "we found them in the boiler room. They must have died trying to save whoever they could."

"Alright, I think we've rested up enough," David said lowering the manual, "We need to get the hell out of here before more of those skinless freaks decide to drop in on us." He then turned his attention over to the seated guard, "Mark, you still have that key we found in Room 204?"

The guard grunted as he fished into his pocket again, producing a small gold key, "Right here. We had to solve some fucked up map puzzle to get this baby."

"That Blakely has always been an oddball," David rasped before turning his attention to the others, "I've done plenty of work at this place before and I know the layout pretty well."

"Alright, if we're going to make it out of here, we're going to have to find a red jewel to place in that bust over there," he said pointing to a porcelain bust in the northwest corner of the room. A bookshelf had been pushed aside, revealing a hidden door, likely inaccessible at this point.

The plumber then continued, "You can find it in Room 306, but in order to access that room, we have to find a silver relief key similar to the one Mark has. From what I recall, it is hidden in a safe in Room 101. Not only do we have to find the key, we also have to restore power. Unfortunately, that's a lot of ground to cover and we're going to have to split up again."

"I'll go restore the power," Mark said, standing up and reaching for his tattered jacket.

"Are you sure?" Eric said, "Those things look like they did a number on you!"

"I'll go with him," Jake spoke up, "just so he's not alone."

"Fine," David replied, "Eric, Miranda, both of you come with me! We'll meet back here again when we get what we need."

"Right," Miranda spoke, nodding over to Eric.

The survivors gathered up their weapons and bid farewell to one another, hopeful this wouldn't be the last time they would all see each other again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Shit, that was close!" Mark said before coughing heavily, having been exposed to the smoke of a burning room beneath the owner's office.

Jake didn't answer and kept his gun trained on the passage before him. From the glow of a nearby burning room, he managed to spot another zombie staggering towards them, followed by three more that suddenly appeared from around a darkened corner.

"We've got company," the hitman hissed and waited for the lead zombie to clear the burning doorway, which exploded behind him and took down the second, who had somehow survived the blast and continued to crawl towards its prey with portions of its clothing still smoldering.

Raising his gun, the hitman quickly felled the first zombie and dealt swiftly with the crawling zombie. Mark stepped up to take on the third, his injury affecting his aim and forcing him to squeeze off three rounds before finally scoring the killing shot that caught his target right below its left eye.

One more zombie remained, dressed in the uniform of a Tri-State Foods employee. The former human staggered towards its intended victims, until a loud clicking noise made both men tense up.

"Not again," Mark snarled as he listened to the familiar noise and stood shoulder to shoulder with Jake, both their weapons trained past the zombie.

A five foot long tongue shot out from around the corner, coiling around the former human's neck and lifting it into the air. What followed was a sickening snap that bent its head at an awkward angle to the side. Its body was soon tossed casually to the side and yet another "Licker" made its presence felt.

Both men wasted no time and fired away at the approaching beast, which had managed to dodge their shots and leap towards both of them in a murderous frenzy.

Jake had managed to dodge yet another attempted slash, but Mark wasn't so lucky and was tackled to the ground with the beast ready to bite into his neck. Knowing he would hit the beefy guard if he tried to fire upon the monster, the hitman reached for his sword and brought it down, slashing the demon across its leathery back.

Blood curdling shrieks filled the air as crimson fluids spewed out of the gash now protruding across much of the monster's back. Now distracted from its intended meal, the beast returned its attention to the hitman, who brought his sword down again and delivered another painful blow to its chest.

Pure rage drove the Licker and it thrashed its way back to its perched position, only to receive several bullets to the back, compliments of a recovered Mark. A bullet had struck its spinal cord and it was left lying on its stomach, weakly swiping away with its front claws, only to be put out of its misery for good as the hitman drove his sword downward through its exposed brain.

"One less horror in this fucked up world," Jake grunted, flicking fresh blood away from his sword. Picking up a discarded cloth, he used it to wipe away the remaining blood. He then walked over and helped the guard back to his feet.

"Let's just get that damn power back on," Mark grunted and carefully maneuvered his way around the dead bodies and other assorted debris. The duo rounded the corner and happened across what they were looking for the "Power Supply Room."

"Go inside and restart the power. I'll stand guard out here," the hitman ordered.

"Sure thing, I'll yell if I see one more of those freaks," the guard replied with a brief wave.

Jake nodded and collapsed into a sitting position against the wall. He flicked on his flashlight and pointed it down the more darkened portion of the hall, ready for any more of those freaks that could possibly come his way. Nothing else appeared and nothing could be heard aside from the crackling of flames.

It was a silent relief for the hitman to see some of his companions from the bar had survived, but nothing else was known about the others and he imagined his companions were just as clueless as he was. Once again he found himself thinking about the others and wondering where they could possibly be right now. This city was bigger than he thought, and even if they did escape the general limits, they would still have endless miles of forests and mountains to traverse.

He then remembered the documents left for him that had mentioned the Spencer Estate incident. From what was known, the estate had been blown sky high, yet there were reports from survivors who had mentioned monsters which at the time would have sounded outlandish.

Now, he most certainly knew they weren't kidding around.

A loud beep resounded from behind the closed door and Mark stepped out a second later.

"Okay, we should have the emergency power back on. Now let's get the hell outta this dump," he said.

"Don't need to tell me twice," the hitman dryly retorted as they started back for the security office.

Mark led the way this time, trying to memorize a path from the stone plaque he had seen in the courtyard. "We should be near the lounge, which oughta' have some stairs to the second floor for us."

"I hope you're not joking around," Jake continued, catching a glimpse of another mutilated hotel worker who lay slumped over in an alcove, his posture mostly covering the hole left in his stomach by a "Licker's" tongue.

Reaching the door that would take them to the lounge, both men cautiously approached as they could hear the roar of fire on the other side. Nodding to the hitman, Mark took a position at the side of the door and gripped the handle, which burned into his bare skin and caused him to leap backward in pain.

"Let me," Jake said, tightening his gloves. Slowly approaching the door, he gripped the knob and threw it open, another backdraft following and nearly throwing him to the ground.

"You okay?" the guard asked.

"I'm fine," the hitman replied and raised his gun while stepping into the burning doorway.

The entire lounge was on fire and much of the ceiling ducts above had collapsed into the room, leaving them with very limited space to move around in. A lone zombie crawled around near the stairs at the back of the room, but other than that, the room was devoid of any serious threats.

"Let's move!" the guard called out, waving some smoke out of his face that had already escaped into the passage.

The duo carefully navigated their way through to avoid the smoldering furniture and jagged pieces of metal sticking out from the ruins. Loud cracking noises sounded from above and both men were forced forward as burning rafters fell from above. Direct access to the stairs was barred by the fallen duct, leaving them to crawl underneath. As soon as they got through, Mark put a bullet in the zombie's cranium.

"Alright, the office shouldn't be too far away when we get there!" the guard shouted back, only to be stopped dead as the ceiling collapsed above the landing they were heading for.

Yet another Licker had fallen through, yet landed with cat-like grace and was ready to strike right away.

The beast was too far up for the range of their shotguns, forcing both men to withdraw their Berettas and fire. Each had fired bullets that caught the red demon in its sinewy hide, but their clips had emptied before they could finish it off and it retreated for higher ground.

"Worry about that thing later," Mark said, ejecting his spent clip and reaching for another.

Both men raced up the stairs, only to hear the boom of a shotgun blast followed by the dying shriek of a creature.

Completing their climb, they found the beast in the hallway thrashing about in its final death throes. Eric stood over it ejecting a spent shell casing.

"Eric, where are Miranda and David?" Mark demanded, panting as he collapsed against the wall for a breather.

"I got separated from them trying to find that damn jewel," the college student reported, "David told me to head back here."

"Think we'll be able to wait around for them?" Jake asked looking over to Mark.

"We might have no choice. Can't leave anybody behind, especially with those freaks," the guard replied, watching the blood pool beneath the slaughtered Licker.

The trio made their way into the empty security office and Mark quickly made his way over to the bank of monitors searching for any signs of the other survivors. Most of the cameras had been knocked out after the boiler explosion and those that had any live feeds only showed more zombies and tongue creatures lurking about.

"You think they made it?" Eric asked worriedly, suddenly hit by pangs of guilt after his forced separation from the others.

The double doors on the other end suddenly flew open and Miranda flung herself inside. David was right behind her and now had access to the grenade launcher, firing an explosive round into an unseen predator. Throwing himself into the room, Jake and Eric both took notice of their dilemma and slammed the doors shut behind them.

"Are you guys alright?" Mark asked, running over to check on the battered survivors.

David only responded by pulling out a bright red jewel, "I got what we came for, now let's just get out of here!"

Helped back to his feet by Jake, the plumber made his way over to the bust and slapped the jewel into place. Following an audible click, the door slid open.

"Let's move," the plumber ordered, handing the grenade launcher over to Miranda and reclaiming his shotgun from her.

The group stepped back into the main lobby of the Apple Inn, which at the moment appeared to be devoid of any threats aside from a fire crackling below. Lying against the balcony railing was a dead security guard and searching his body, they found more unused handgun and shotgun rounds. Standing near an electrical box, David flipped the switch to lower the emergency ladder.

They should have been almost home free, but a lingering feeling in the hitman's mind told him that this wasn't going to be the end of their stay here, so he proceeded cautiously as he descended the ladder.

Reaching the bottom, Jake's eyes immediately darted over to the front desk, where the clerk he had briefly interacted with earlier in the night was still present. Slumped over the counter, blood had pooled around the man's form and upon further inspection he found out that the man had been completely eviscerated, his legs lying beneath him. The man's hand had been outstretched towards a button that would have rung an alarm bell, but never happened as he had apparently bled out before it could happen.

"Alright, there's the exit! Come on!" David called out, waving the others towards him.

Before they could proceed any further, a ventilation duct gave way and another monster appeared before them. It appeared to be another one of those tongue creatures, but almost appeared more human at the same time, like it had been in the process of a new transformation.

Roughly the same shape and size of a "Licker," this beast had more human-looking hands and legs, as well as a more human-looking face that still had eyes, ears, a normal looking mouth with regular teeth and crude remnants of a nose that had been pushed back into its skull, as well as patches of long blonde hair still attached to its head. All it wore was the tattered remnants of a white blouse.

"God you're fucking ugly!" Eric gasped aloud, right to the monster's face.

The monster only shrieked in reply and shot out its tongue, wrapping around Miranda's upper arm and forcing her to drop her grenade launcher.

"Help!" the young woman screamed, the monster's grip tightening on her like a python constricting around one of its victims. She tried to reach for her gun, but the pain was too unbearable for her.

"Get away from her!" Mark screamed at the monster and began firing wildly at it, followed by the three other men present. Eventually, they riddled the beast with enough bullets to force it to relinquish its grip upon the woman.

Eric quickly rushed over to help the injured woman.

"Are you alright?" he asked staring down at her arm. The material of her sweatshirt had suffered a clean cut and her arm was already bruising underneath with a few beads of blood seeping out from underneath, but other than that she was still able to wiggle her fingers. It was a sign she hadn't suffered any broken bones or serious muscle damage, a definite good thing.

The "Super Licker" retreated into the vent from which it came, only to reappear from another vent closer to the front entrance. Sensing its danger, it let out a hiss of its own, one that had been louder and more feminine sounding.

A loud crash came from above as a ventilation cover was knocked out of place. Three more red tongue creatures came scrambling out and made a beeline for the survivors.

"That thing must have called for backup!" Eric shouted next to Jake, "Oh shit, we must be dealing with the 'Mother Licker.' No wonder they're pissed…"

"_Mother Licker…" _Jake thought to himself, _"…if we kill the 'mother' then does that mean we kill all the 'babies' along with her?" _Could it be possible that there were actually creatures who could comprehend the concept of teamwork? _"Almost sounds like a hive mentality."_

Watching a Licker scuttling along the wall above him, the hitman waited until it got closer before firing a round in its direction. The creature leapt out of the way, but ignored him and continued crawling towards its "mother."

Eric stood close to Miranda, who still hadn't completely recovered from her recent attack. He had now pulled out his gun, knowing his shotgun was dangerously low on ammo and didn't have the range to catch the almost reptilian-looking creatures.

Unable to afford wasting ammo, he slowed his rate of fire, only going for shots he knew would hit. His first round smacked the creature in its side, causing it to temporarily lose its balance before pulling itself back into place, held up by its right claw. Knowing he was gaining ground, he fired two more rounds that left the monster barely hanging on before he fired a round that caught it in the shoulder, finally forcing it to fall to the floor, breaking the mantelpiece above the fireplace and knocking down the painting that hung over as it fell.

"You just let your mama down, ugly!" the college student taunted before unloading the rest of his clip into the red demon, ending with a shot that caught it in the head.

"Watch out!" Miranda cried from next to him.

The third Licker landed behind them and hissed menacingly. Acting on impulse, the young woman raised the grenade launcher and fired an explosive round directly into the mutant's face, destroying most of its upper body.

David and Mark were focused on the "Licker Queen" and fired everything they had at the monster. Most of their shots had connected, but this monster seemed to shrug the blows off much more easily than its kin. Shooting its tongue out like a frog trying to catch a fly, it connected with the security guard's shotgun. A loud snapping noise followed and a second later, the weapon fell to pieces.

"Damn it!" Mark grunted as he reached for his sidearm, only to freeze as the remaining Licker appeared above him.

KA-BOOM!!!

The guard brought his arms up to shield his face as blood and brain rained down from above. He turned to see Jake standing there and reaching into his pockets for fresh shells.

"Thanks kid," he shouted and went to fire upon the Mother Licker, only to have it disappear into the ventilation system again.

A skylight suddenly shattered above and the group looked up to see two more Lickers scuttling in towards them. Another door shattered from the balcony above and two more appeared, all dead set on protecting their leader.

"_Shit, this is getting to be too damn much!" _Jake thought to himself. As he stared at the Lickers emerging from the second floor, his eyes trailed down to the clerk's corpse and then over to the button the man had died trying to push. He then took into account the super sensitive hearing these creatures had.

Dashing for the counter across from him, he leapt over an antique bench and then rolled underneath an attempted claw swipe from a flying Licker that would have taken his head off had he been standing. Pushing himself back to his feet, he leapt forward and slapped his hand down onto the button.

A jarring bell echoed throughout the room, rattling the lesser Lickers where they stood and even forcing the Queen Licker to fall from her perch. Nonetheless, it had succeeded in frightening the mutants and sent them retreating in any available direction they could reach.

Unfortunately, the Queen herself had also attempted to flee the scene and was getting away.

"David, get the others out of here! I'm going to finish that bitch off once and for all!" Jake ordered with a pump of his shotgun.

"Are you crazy?" the plumber asked, looking awkwardly towards the others.

"Jake, forget about her! We have to get out of here!" Eric shouted.

"It has to be done. Now get them out of here!" the hitman ordered.

David and Mark looked uneasily to one another and then over to Eric and Miranda, who were desperate for him to come along.

"Jake please, we need you!" Miranda pleaded, sounding like she was almost on the verge of tears.

"Please, just get out of here! I'll make it out alive!" the hitman replied and started down the hall after the Queen Licker.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It hadn't been as difficult to trail the Queen Licker as he thought it would be, all he had to do was follow the trail of fresh dissected corpses and deep gouge marks left in the walls.

"_At least she did most of the work for me," _Jake mused as he counted eleven bodies in the corridor he was currently traveling through.

There was one "survivor" though, a dismembered upper torso lying near an overturned dinner cart that suddenly sprung to life as it heard the criminal's approaching footsteps. After a swift kick was delivered to its head, it was no more.

A low moan sounded from around the corner and the hitman made one last check of his shotgun to make sure it was fully loaded. Hugging his back to the wall, he inched towards the corner and peeked around to find the Queen disappearing into Room 118.

"_Time to finish this," _he thought, observing the blood trail the wounded monster had left behind.

Approaching the splintered door carefully, he listened for the Queen's ragged moaning noises and took a couple deep breaths to prepare himself. With a final grunt, he kicked the door off its remaining hinges and leapt inside.

The Queen was resting on a bloodied bed and suddenly sprung to life as she sensed her hunter's presence.

Before she could make her attack, the hitman unloaded a round of buckshot into her face, seriously wounding her and proceeded to fire three more times into her ragged form until he was certain she wouldn't get up again.

He suddenly stopped when he noticed the creaking noises coming from above. Looking up, he saw a severely cracked floor that had been weakened by fire damage and was on the verge of caving in.

"Join your babies in Hell!" Jake darkly spat and fired his remaining shots into the ceiling.

The ceiling came crashing down upon the helpless monster, burying her in a mountain of flaming debris. She wouldn't be coming back from that one.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The fire department finally arrived on the scene along with several R.P.D. units.

Jake watched from the darkness of a nearby alley as Mark, David, Eric and Miranda conversed with an African-American firefighter. Furthermore, the young woman reached into her newly-acquired backpack and produced the two red ID tags she had found on the dead firefighters, handing them over to their surviving colleague.

"_Good to see they made it out alright," _the hitman smiled to himself and made his way down the street, knowing his trench coat would help him blend into the shadows.

He raced further down the street and cut through another empty alley and was about to make his way across a street under construction until he was stopped by the wail of a police siren.

"Hold it right there!" a voice boomed over the cruiser's intercom and the hitman was instantly blinded as a spotlight was shone upon him.

"Don't shoot! I'm a human!" Jake shouted back, raising his hands protectively.

"Meyer, kill the light!" he heard a voice order from inside, yet the hitman still found himself blinded by the red and blue flashing lights.

The driver's side door opened and a man in his late thirties with short brown hair stepped out and walked towards him.

"Sir, are you injured?" the officer immediately inquired, keeping a safe distance until he could be certain.

"I'm fine!" Jake replied, raising a hand to block out the flashing lights.

"Are you sure?" the cop continued, "None of those things bit or scratched you?"

"Yes!" the hitman snapped, "None of those things touched me!"

The officer then took notice of his weaponry and continued to question him, "What are you doing out on the streets then? It's dangerous out here and we have a curfew in effect."

"Sorry if I didn't get the memo Officer, but I'm trying to survive," Jake shot back, unable to hide the petulance in his tone.

The officer steeled at the hitman's aggressive reply and didn't say anything right away. "Okay then sir, but you're going to have to come with us. We are on a sweep for survivors and have orders to get you over to the emergency shelter on Sparrow St. immediately."

Another unnecessary distraction had just been thrown the hired gun's way and he grunted in disgust. Yet, he couldn't fight back right now knowing that these officers would hunt him down if he didn't comply, and after what they had probably seen, he would assume they would have itchy trigger fingers if provoked.

"Fine!" the hitman sighed in defeat and slowly made his way towards the officer.

"Alright, just hop in the back sir and we can be on our way," the officer spoke, "Do you have a name sir?"

"Smith, Jake Smith," the hitman replied.

"Okay Mr. Smith, I'm Officer Minton and my partner inside is Officer Meyer. We're going to transport you over immediately."

"Okay," Jake grudgingly replied as he crawled into the cruiser's backseat.

Author's Note: Okay and that wraps it up! I will warn anybody who is familiar with the "Outbreak" game though that I haven't played the game in a LONG time, so my accuracy with the hotel's layout may be a little off. Fortunately, I did have a guidebook and viewed footage on YouTube to help me through this.

For another confession, I'll admit that I had originally planned on having it where Jake would just pull out his Magnum and shoot the Suspen-Dead a.k.a. Regis Licker until her head exploded, but I decided to get creative in the end and thus "the ceiling came falling!" to place my own original take on Chicken Little.

Until then, read and review! This is the newly-returned Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	11. Ch 10: Deadly Respite

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 10: Deadly Respite

_"Viper, what the hell are you doing?" Jake shouted to fellow masked gunman._

_The continuous rattle of automatic fire was his only answer, followed by the dying screams of civilians._

_A lone gunshot soon followed._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake bolted upright in a cold sweat, panting heavily as he awakened to find himself in the very office he had been directed to after his arrival several hours ago. The room had been converted into a sleeping quarters and was crammed full with people when he had first gotten there, to the point where blankets and pillows had become a luxury item reserved only for a "first come, first serve basis."

Now, the room was empty with blankets, pillows, backpacks and other personal effects scattered about. Looking up at a wall-mounted clock, it was well after one in the afternoon and most of the other refugees had probably departed for a much needed lunch.

A sharp pain suddenly jolted across his upper chest in the very spot where his scar lay. He clenched his eyes shut and rubbed forcefully against the area, like he usually did whenever it came back to him.

_"Same dream again," _he thought to himself, _"Last time I was in a bank, this happened. Damn it, hanging around here isn't helping matters much either."_

Trying to force the thoughts from his head, he stood up and stretched his limbs out. Reaching down, he snatched up his trench coat and carefully pulled it over his form, making sure none of his ammo would fall out, and then grabbed his shotgun and sword. Placing the weapons in their respective holsters, he made one last inspection to make sure nothing had been taken while he slept.

_"I doubt any of them would've been stupid enough to take anything," _Jake thought as he stepped around the items littering the floor, recalling some of the frightened looks the citizens had given him as he made his entrance.

"At least I hope they weren't,"he whispered to himself before making his way back into the hallway.

It had been shortly after 1:30 in the morning when he had arrived at the bank and sleep overcame him quickly. He was surprised he had managed to sleep as well and as long as he did after what he had been through. A lesser man would have been reduced to a gibbering wreck within minutes and wouldn't have been able to sleep for nights afterward.

Perhaps the horror of his experiences before Raccoon City had desensitized him to much of what he had seen.

The hallway led to the spacious front lobby, where several officers armed with shotguns, submachine guns and even a few assault rifles had established a defensive perimeter. Several comfy looking couches and chairs had been piled in front of the double doors, believing that the zombies would automatically make a play for the front door. Given their limited intelligence, it was hopeful that they didn't understand the concept of back doors, which is how the survivors entered after they were dropped off.

A radio had been set up in an office behind the front counter and Jake could hear an officer communicating with a dispatcher back at the station, trying to further formulate any possible evacuation procedures.

According to additional radio chatter he had overheard, he found out there had been additional emergency shelters set up at the city post office, high school, shopping center, municipal building, power station and public library. By now the area around the hospital had been cleared enough to admit a few lucky survivors and there were still armed officers present to assist them. From what he had also heard, the stations set up at the fire department and R.P.D. itself had been holding up well so far.

Aside from the officers present in the lobby, this former place of commerce had been transformed into a full blown fortress that would serve for multiple tasks: casualty collection, rallying points for civilians and emergency personnel who needed treatment, rearmed or just for temporary shelter.

Numerous offices had been converted into sleeping quarters for the survivors, but it raised concerns for many due to the fact that it would allow possibly infected citizens to intermingle with those who had not yet been exposed to whatever was converting them into the walking dead. As a precaution, Jake had slept with his shoes on and his guns in his holsters.

The small employee break room served as the cafeteria with crates of provisions shipped over from a nearby food storage warehouse. Unfortunately, there were too many survivors present and along with the officers, there wasn't enough food to provide a full meal for everybody, forcing them to have to regulate what was passed out and to whom.

A makeshift infirmary had been set up down the hall from the cafeteria, where a surviving bank security guard had been posted. He watched as a man in a sullied smock emerged with a white trash bag slung over his shoulder. Blood swished around inside, probably from a bunch of used bandages and other linens for treating injured survivors. It gave the hitman a bad feeling and again had him placing a hand over his pistol, almost expecting a zombie or some other abomination to come rush out in search of a fresh meal.

In the adjoining office an armory had been set up and two officers clad in full riot gear stood guard, ready to prevent anybody who would attempt to steal the weapons inside and try shooting their way to freedom. One of the guards had taken notice of Jake's Berettas and gave him a sharp stare from underneath his visor. The hitman paid him no heed and continued towards the break room.

Jake was also certain that a "morgue" had probably been set up somewhere on the premises. Shortly after his arrival, he noticed two officers hauling a body covered by a blanket away on a crude stretcher. The sight created an uproar which the officers were barely able to quell and it was only through the skillful oratory of an intelligent-looking man in a blue business suit that they had managed to avert a full blown catastrophe.

_"I just hope they were smart enough to shoot those things in the head," _the hitman thought to himself as he finally reached the break room and stepped inside.

As he expected, the room was full of people who had somehow been corralled into one tight little space, and he ended up pushing around many smaller people with his muscular form. He received a few frustrated grunts and cries of surprise, but nobody complained aloud when they finally noticed he was a tall man clad in black with a sword strapped to his back.

Two workers from the food storage warehouse stood at the front of the room, handing out rations to survivors waiting impatiently in line. A burly officer stood with the workers, his shotgun in plain sight to deter any belligerent behavior.

When it was Jake's turn, he was given a bottle of water and a ham and cheese sandwich and then told to move along, the worker speaking in the robotic monotone of someone who must have repeated the same process a hundred times already in one day.

With no space to stand in the break room, he suddenly took notice of a reading room off to the side and stepped in to have his small meal.

A group of people had congregated around a television that had been set up and near the front of the room, a lone man whined irritably.

"What the hell are they thinking? They can't do this to us! As a citizen of this nation, they should be doing everything in their goddamned power to protect us! They should be getting us out of here as fast as possible instead of trapping us in here like a bunch of cattle waiting to be led to the slaughter!"

The complaining man was a short, slightly overweight middle-aged fellow with short reddish-blond hair and wearing blue jeans, a white button up shirt and a brown jacket with one of the sleeves torn off. A teenaged girl with short blonde hair and wearing a pink t-shirt and brown shorts clung to his arm, which he assumed was probably his daughter.

Jake walked over to an African-American man in a grimy white dress shirt and gray slacks standing near the TV set and took a position next to him. He now saw that they had been watching the American News Channel (A.N.C.) where a reporter was currently reading from a script, but could barely be heard above the overweight man's constant whining.

"What's his problem?" the hitman quietly spoke, catching the man by surprise.

The man composed himself before speaking, "It's the government, they've placed Raccoon City under quarantine."

An explosion occurred within the pit of Jake's stomach and he stared at the man in disbelief, "Are you serious?" he half-shouted.

"See for yourself," another man spoke up next to him, wearing a yellow and red Burger Kong employee's polo shirt. Having the remote in hand, he pushed a button and the volume rose.

_"As announced earlier in the day, Raccoon City has been placed under quarantine by order of the Pentagon," _a female voiceover announced as the scene shifted over to a blockade outside of the city limits.

The main road leading into the city was shown, blocked off by a picket fence lined with barbed wire. Armed soldiers in gas masks and biohazard gear manned the barricade and at each side of the entrance were two Humvees with forest camouflage paint schemes; both had a lone soldier manning the gun turret. An Apache attack helicopter could be seen flying overhead, perhaps for a reconnaissance run.

_"At this moment, there is still no official word on what is actually happening inside the city as all attempts to contact any local government agencies have failed to connect._

_"However, an aide to Mayor Michael Warren, who managed to escape before the quarantine was put into effect, is blaming a radioactive leak at a chemical storage facility within the city limits._

_"The lockdown went into effect at daybreak, in compliance with U.S. safety regulations. The 32__nd __National Guard Infantry Brigade from the nearby Douglas County Garrison has been activated to enforce the fortifications, and will be assisted by units from the Fort Caledonia and Fort Roosevelt Army Bases."_

The scene then switched over to a dark-haired man in his early forties clad in combat fatigues. A banner at the bottom of the screen identified him as Maj. Derek Clayton of the 32nd National Guard Infantry Brigade.

_"At this point, our duty is strictly to contain this spillage and prevent it from spreading beyond the city limits. Our superiors are still awaiting orders directly from the Pentagon before we can enter the city and further investigate the matter, as well as carrying out any possible rescue missions," _the Major reported.

_"Unfortunately, this also means that a majority of the population is still trapped inside, including several prominent city officials. No word has been heard regarding the status of Mayor Warren himself, nor any of his cabinet."_

Another distressing sight followed as dozens of refugees who had managed to escape were now shown, held in a special containment area set up by the Army. Many of them were shown inside a tent lined with row upon row of cots, while others stood in line waiting to be tended to by army doctors.

All of them showed signs of their ordeal, both physical and mental. Some of them were crying and screaming, while others just stood around staring blankly into the camera. All were covered in blood and filth, a telltale sign of the magnitude of this disaster.

Members of the Minnesota State Patrol and Douglas County Sheriff's Department were on hand to receive them and keep them at bay until the all clear was given. A black riot van containing members of the S.W.A.T. team from nearby Latham could be seen pulling up, their members ready to assist in crowd control.

The reporter's voiceover then resumed, _"Dozens of refugees have thus far managed to escape and several centers have been set up around the city limits. However, the volume of arrivals was much greater than expected. Members of the Minnesota State Patrol, Douglas County Sheriff's Department and Latham S.W.A.T. Team have been dispatched to handle the centers. As of right now, the number of survivors is estimated to be between the 300 and 500 range."_

Cars were also shown pulling up, carrying concerned relatives who had by now caught wind of the story and were showing up in droves to find out whether or not their loved ones had made it out alive.

The scene then switched over to a chubby woman in her late fifties with graying brown hair and wearing bifocals. She was identified as "Elaine Langbeck, Concerned Parent."

_"I was just talking to my daughter, who goes to school here in Raccoon City, last night and making plans for when she would be coming home for Thanksgiving and next thing I know, the line went dead. We had no idea what was happening, until we started hearing reports about a radioactive leak and the city being cordoned off. Right now, we're praying to God that she's alright," _the woman spoke, unable to hold back tears that now streamed freely down her face.

The newsroom was then shown, where the Asian-American reporter sat alone at her desk.

_"For further coverage, we now go to Kip Willows from our local affiliate station NMSM Channel 7, who is on hand at the refugee center along Hwy. 121 to give us further details regarding the matter."_

A lone reporter in a beige suit with slicked back blond hair stood in front of the compound entrance.

_"Connie, as you can see it is total pandemonium here in the refugee center as people are heavily distressed over the recent calamity._

_"According to some of the survivors' testimonies, we are not dealing with just a radioactive leak around here."_

A red-headed woman was then shown, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders that mostly covered a small child who clung obsessively to her side. A tale of woe would escape her lips.

_"I was just taking my son through the park for a morning stroll…when I found this man and…oh god…he was eating this old woman!"_

Another group of survivors was shown, all huddled closely together as they sought comfort in the presence of fellow human beings.

_"I was just out for supper with some friends at the Grill 13…"_ a man in a Minnesota Barbarians coat and Twin Cities cap trailed, struggling to complete his story, _"…when we heard all these screams and next thing I know…there were people running around and attacking everything in sight."_

_"They weren't just attacking them,"_ a young dark-haired man with glasses finished, _"…they were eating them. Those other people, they were still alive…screaming their lungs out while those things ate them…"_

The young brunette-haired woman he held began sobbing uncontrollably at the mention and the camera feed cut away from them.

"Radioactive waste my ass!" the black man spat, "This is the living fucking dead we're talking about here!"

"Tell us about it," the Burger Kong employee sardonically retorted.

Silence was the hitman's only reply. He couldn't believe it; he was trapped in this hellacious city with no means of escape once he completed his mission. Then again, was there even a mission left to complete by now?

If a government-ordered quarantine had been put into effect and the entire city was surrounded by the National Guard, then would that mean Birkin was still trapped inside too? Furthermore, had he already fallen to the zombies and other possible monstrosities lurking with in?

Thoughts of those red-skinned creatures with the long tongues filtered into Jake's mind, along with those crows, the demon dogs and the bazooka-wielding brute.

An icy feeling loomed within the young hired gun as he realized he was trapped and would probably die here along with everybody else if some kind of drastic measure wasn't taken.

"_I can't think about that, not now," _he told himself, _"I've had the deck stacked against me plenty of times before and have come out alive and kicking in the end. There has to be some way out."_

Jake began to think of his uncle, a veteran who had fought in Vietnam.

There was a story he had often told him, his siblings and his cousins while they were all growing up, about a time where he and several of his squad mates had been taken as prisoners of war behind enemy lines. They were in a situation much like the hitman was now, one where there was no hope of survival at all, one where it wouldn't have mattered how many enemy soldiers they killed in the end, they would still die regardless of the circumstances.

Thanks to a mixture of ingenuity and sheer, superhuman determination, his uncle had managed to band his captured allies together and fight their way out through sheer brute force. It was like "a scene straight out of an action movie" in his uncle's own words. In the end, his brave uncle had been rewarded for his heroism, but had lost a leg and much of the hearing in his right ear as a result.

The overall moral stressed in the story was to fight your way out, no matter how dire the odds were. As long as you had an ounce of breath in your system, you thought about staying alive and fought. It had served him well plenty of times in the past and hoped it could help him survive this nightmare.

A loud argument sounded from the small cafeteria, bringing the gunman back to reality. Many braced themselves as they recognized the whiny and grating tone of the overweight man from before.

"Come on, you're supposed to be a bunch of highly-trained professionals! You should all be able to handle a situation like this!"

Jake stepped back into the break room, where the ill-tempered slob was shouting in the face of a dark-haired officer, who the hitman recognized as being one of the officers Kevin had been conversing with back on Main Street after the explosives were detonated. The teenaged girl still clung obsessively to the fat man's arm, a fearful look on her face that was shared by several onlookers in attendance.

"I'm sorry Mr. Rosso, but we've never received any training for a situation like this. This is the living dead we're dealing with here, not some frenzied rioters," the officer said shaking his head, before turning to address his colleague who had been guarding the food workers, "The only thing we do know is that you have to kill them with headshots."

"Then again, you're going to need all of Fort Caledonia to pull that off with the number we have running around here," the burly officer spoke up.

"Wh-What?" Mr. Rosso whimpered.

"I'm sorry, but right now there's not going to be any cavalry to come and rescue us. We've overheard the news broadcast that the government has placed this city under quarantine and that they have to wait before they can come in and rescue us," the dark-haired officer continued, "Right now, we are not able to reach the rest of our colleagues, so we have to make due with what we've got!"

"What?" Rosso screeched, "You mean to tell me that you guys are the freaking law in this city, yet you don't even know how to protect an entire building full of innocent bystanders? What the hell kind of cops are you?" he ranted and got nose to nose with the officer, flailing his arms wildly and forcing the cop to raise his arms protectively.

"Daddy, stop it! Please!" the girl sobbed, making a weak attempt to pull her father back.

"Not now Lucia," the man snapped, now identifying his daughter by name.

"Sir, you need to calm down!" the burly officer demanded, stepping out from behind the table and walking over to assist his colleague, "Calm down goddamn it!" he shouted, trying to pull the oafish man away.

A few men in the room stepped up to assist the officers in subduing the crazed man, while everybody else just stood back in terror, some looking like they were looking for the nearest exit, fearing that the situation would escalate into full-blown violence.

Two more officers eventually had to step in to help calm the situation, one of them ready to draw his mace if provoked.

_"I think I've overstayed my welcome here," _the hitman thought to himself, now realizing he hadn't had the chance to touch his lunch yet and decided to find someplace quieter so he could eat in peace.

Jake walked through the hall and decided he would head back to the office where he had spent the night.

Many of the officers paid him no mind, focused on guarding the front lobby. They were particularly concerned about the large windows, not knowing if those zombies would have the strength to break them down or not.

"Andy! There you are!" another voice suddenly called out, catching the attention of a brown-haired officer who had taken a position behind the counter.

Looking towards the hallway he was about to head down, the hitman caught sight of a man running towards them who stood about five feet nine inches in height, with a lanky build, clean-shaven face and short, neatly combed brown hair. He wore a mustard-yellow colored combat vest, camouflage pants, black combat boots and a white t-shirt underneath. As the man got closer, he took notice of a patch on the man's left shoulder.

"_S.T.A.R.S." _Jake thought to himself as the name instantly rang a bell. They were the group of elite special agents who were sent to investigate the area around the Spencer Estate back in July, according to some of the files he had received.

Here he was now, encountering one of them in the flesh and immediately, something wasn't right about the guy.

_"That guy is a S.T.A.R.S. member?" _the hitman asked himself, _"That guy looks like he's afraid of his own shadow!" _he mentally remarked, taking notice of the man's sniveling, fidgety disposition. _"If this loser is a S.T.A.R.S. member, then I must be the Pope."_

"Brad?" the officer called Andy asked, staring at the newcomer as if he were looking at a ghost.

"What the hell?" another officer asked, "I don't believe it, 'Chickenheart' Vickers? What brings you back after all this time?"

By now, several of the other officers had taken notice of the S.T.A.R.S. member and received him with varying responses, some chuckling quietly at him, some worriedly like his appearance was an omen of some major catastrophe to come, and others like they were ready to punch his face in.

"Uh Andy, can we please talk somewhere alone…its urgent!" Brad called out, taking notice of the glares he was attracting.

"Alright, we can go to that one office down the hall," Andy replied, scooping up an MP5 submachine and following the S.T.A.R.S. member down the hall.

"_This should be interesting," _Jake thought as he found himself suddenly intrigued by the newcomer. He didn't know exactly what caused it, but a good guess would have been the man's indirect connection to the Spencer Estate incident, which was allegedly also linked to Umbrella.

Following the two men at a safe distance, he waited for Andy to open the door and both of them stepped inside, seemingly unaware they forgot to shut the door completely. Standing at a spot where he knew he would be out of the other officers' direct view, he hugged the wall and inched himself over to the slightly opened door.

"Brad, what are you doing here? More importantly, where the hell have you been?" Andy asked, "Redfield and the others were going nuts trying to find you after you skipped down when the team got suspended indefinitely!"

"Andy, that's not important right now," Brad replied, "I need your help finding somebody."

"Who?" the officer replied, "Whoever you're looking for, you sure came at a bad time to try finding them."

"Have you seen Jill Valentine around anywhere? I have to find her, it's really important," the former S.T.A.R.S. operative pleaded, "I've tried calling her, but the phone lines are out and I can't get over to the Cedar District due to a blockade!"

"Nobody has seen her around the station in over a week," Andy replied, "it's almost like she's vanished off the face of the earth!"

"Damn it!" Brad cursed bitterly, barely stifling a sob as he could be heard kicking something over.

"Calm down, what's the matter? Why do you have to find her?" Andy asked, probably having grabbed the man by now.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you…" Brad replied, in a darkened, morbid tone, "…nobody believed us when we came back from that hellhole of a mansion! Everybody thought we were under the influence of drugs."

"Brad, I've always been a friend of yours and you can tell me what is going on. You have my word that if nobody else believes you, then I will. I don't think I have as much reason to be skeptical after everything else that's been going on," the R.P.D. officer replied trying to soothe his friend's anxiety.

"Okay…" the ex-cop started, "…there's this 'thing' out there that's after S.T.A.R.S. members, I know because it can talk. It's big and has one eye, and it's wearing a black trench coat. It also has a rocket launcher!"

"Are you serious?" Andy asked, almost sounding as if he was questioning himself for wanting to believe his friend.

"I'm positive!" Brad shot back defensively, "It blew up Barry Burton's old house trying to get to me!"

A tense silence followed before Andy spoke, "Okay, okay just try to stay calm. As you can see, we have a bunch of people here who need our protection already. You're more than welcome to stay here, where we can back you up against this 'thing' that you speak of."

"No," was the ex-S.T.A.R.S. member's sharp reply, "I can't sit around in one place for too long. I have to find Jill and get her out of here before that thing finds her. I've spent the last two days running from that monster and it'll find me if I don't keep moving. It's relentless!"

"Okay, do what you have to then," Andy sighed in defeat, "I can't force you to stay here, but watch yourself if you have to go back out there. Jill is a tough girl and I know she should be alright. I don't think the Army or S.T.A.R.S. would have accepted her if she were one of those 'damsel in distress' types."

"God I hope you're right," Brad replied.

"_Time for me to split," _Jake thought as he started making his way towards the office he had been staying in. _"So S.T.A.R.S. boy is familiar with that brute too. If it's after S.T.A.R.S. members, then why the hell did it come after us?"_

The hitman now found a small group of people had congregated in his makeshift quarters and chatted quietly amongst themselves.

Sitting at the desk was an older woman in white slacks and mauve colored top whose once black hair was now almost completely white. Seated at the end of the desk with his own chair pulled up, was a younger man wearing a turned around blue cap, tan vest and blue jeans. The t-shirt underneath his vest identified him as an employee of RCNN and he had his video camera still with him, with which he appeared to be replaying some footage he had already recorded.

On the nearby couch sat three more people, one a teenaged girl with long brownish-blonde hair in a ponytail and wearing a red t-shirt advertising the popular rock group Vic E, the next a teenage African-American male with short black hair styled in a crewcut and wearing a red basketball jersey, blue and white track pants, yellow t-shirt underneath and basketball sneakers, and the last a short, plump, balding man in a white dress shirt and black slacks, both stained with dried blood. A Colt Python rested on the arm in front of the man's hand, ready for him to grab it at a moment's notice.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of them was another teenager, this one a Caucasian male whose hair was covered by an army green colored beanie and wearing a black t-shirt with a long sleeved white shirt underneath, blue camouflage pants, ratty black combat boots, spiked bracelets and a studded belt. His chin rested on a closed fist and sticking out from the corner of his lap, a Glock-17 could be seen.

"Welcome to the party," the boy on the floor grunted, prompting the others to turn and acknowledge him.

"I see you're caught up in this mess too," the balding man spoke in a heavily Italian accented tone.

"You don't know the half of it," Jake replied, lowering himself to the floor and stretching out his tired legs.

"So what's your story then?" the teen on the couch asked, pointing to him and motioning for his name.

"Jake, Jake Smith," the hitman replied, "I was just passing through when everything went to shit."

"Been the story for a lot of people," the teen replied, "I'm R.J. by the way," he said and then motioned towards the girl and the older man, "This is my friend Denise and our boss Mr. M."

"Santino Maritato," the man spoke, "Everybody calls me Sonny though. I run…or I should say ran Sonny's Sicilian Eatery." The pained look that followed told that he didn't wish to explain things any further.

"I'm Jason," the gun-wielding teen announced, "those things ripped apart a gathering me and some buddies were having."

"No doubt underage drinking was involved," Sonny added.

"Shut the fuck up, you fat pig!" the teen snapped, "Like it's any of your fucking business what me and my friends did together!"

"Hey, easy you two!" the older woman shouted and then walked over to Sonny, "Come on Mr. Maritato, maybe we should see how that Trina lady from your restaurant is doing."

"Yeah, sure thing," the older man grumbled, shooting a filthy glare in Jason's direction before turning and leaving the room. R.J. looked to Denise and whispered something to her, before getting up and following after his boss.

"Should I even ask?" Jake said, staring back and forth between the two teens.

"Old asshole thinks I'm a bad influence on his nephew," Jason grumbled, staring suggestively at his Glock-17, knowing that he wanted to put a bullet in the man's face.

"Don't forget you also vandalized his restaurant and his house after he fired you," Denise interjected, crossing her arms defensively.

"What goes around comes around!" Jason scoffed, "I'm surprised you haven't done the same to that fat toad. He's a fucking slave driver!"

Jake largely ignored the conversation between the two teens and now focused on eating his sandwich. Again, he ate slowly, wanting to savor every bite that he could, rather than wolfing it down in one full bite.

With the way things were looking right now, it was safe to assume the cops would probably try to keep him and the others cooped up in here for more than a day. Judging by the brief exchange between Jason and Sonny, he knew things would be volatile amongst some of the others, leading to possible violence.

Having finished his little meal, the hitman went over to toss his wrapper and empty bottle into the small trashcan next to the desk, when he took notice of the cameraman still checking over the footage he had recorded.

"The late night news?" Jake asked stepping up behind the man, who didn't turn to face him and instead remained focused on the scene before him.

"It started out as that…" the man replied.

"Whatever it is, I know it's not pretty," the hired gun spoke, taking notice of the blood splattered across the man's back.

"Have a look for yourself," the cameraman said, offering the camera to his new companion.

What initially started out as footage from late last night, where the familiar gray-suited reporter was just finishing his interview with Dorian before the smoking craters in the aftermath of the bomb blasts, switched over to another horrific scene as the camera was switched on again hours later.

This new scene took place on another war torn street, where a mob of undead citizens came marching towards the camera, all with their arms outstretched and sounding their intent as they spotted the still living humans.

"_Holy shit, Russ are you getting all of this?" _a Hispanic man in a blue windbreaker asked, speaking directly to the camera.

"_What the hell do you think you're doing?" _the gray-suited man shouted, _"Turn that damned thing off, those people don't want to see this!"_

"_How the hell do you know that Gideon?" _the Hispanic man asked the suited man, _"The people are going to need to know what the hell is going on if we ever get this footage outside the city limits!"_

"_Oh my god, look!" _a feminine voice called out from behind the three men.

The camera zoomed past Gideon and the other man, where the crowd had begun to thin out and in between the staggering zombies; another small group could be seen feasting on the remains of an older couple.

"_Don't just stand there filming that shit," _Gideon shouted, grabbing the cameraman by the shoulder and swinging his focus over to the same RCNN news van he had seen being attacked by the zombies. _"We have to get the hell out of here now!"_

Another scene then came into view, where the Hispanic man now lay motionless on the group, blood gushing from a fresh wound in his neck. Above him was another one of those skinless creatures from the hotel.

The screeching of tires was heard from behind and the camera spun around, showing the RCNN van taking off down the street.

"_No, Gideon don't go!" _the same woman shouted from before, now revealing herself as a petite brunette in a green jacket and denim shorts.

Five more familiar faces stepped into view and Jake smiled as he took notice that they were still alive.

George Hamilton, Jim Chapman and Cindy Lennox from the bar were shown, along with Ralph and the S.W.A.T. officer Tyson.

"_Come on, we're heading for the hospital!" _George shouted over the rattle of Tyson's MP5. _"We have to-"_

The tongue monster leapt into view and soon the brunette woman would fall, slashed deeply across her back. Everything went black as the camera was shut off.

"Damn, that's brutal," Jake said, setting the camera down.

"Yeah, all because that bastard Gideon abandoned us," Russ the cameraman grunted bitterly.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about him anymore," the hitman replied, "those things got him on Durgan St."

A dark silence followed. He could tell that the man must not have cared much for his boss, but at the same time probably felt that he didn't deserve such a gruesome fate in the end.

"Right now, all I care about is getting this footage outside of the city so we can show the world what really happened in here. That radioactive waste crock of bullshit will only cover their tracks for so long," Russ said as he checked his camera over to make sure it was still in good working order.

"Alright, I don't know about you, but I've gotta take a major piss," Jake said and exited the cramped office.

A stampede of heavy footsteps sounded from around the corner and the hitman found a fleet of riot officers rushing towards him for the back door everybody came through.

"We've gotta get over to high school!" one of the officers shouted to an unseen colleague, "They're low on ammo over there and some more of those things are on their way!"

"Pardon us," a cop at the front of the pack called out, nearly knocking Jake over in his mad dash.

"_Looks like things are heating up again," _he grimly observed as the last cop disappeared through the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Are you sure she's alright?" Beatrice McCurdy asked as she hovered over the prone woman lying on the couch beneath her.

"She's going to be alright, I'm positive!" Shawn Gallagan snapped as he held his unconscious wife's hand.

"I don't know, she looks awfully pale and clammy for someone with just a bump on her head," the bank employee observed as she closely studied the bloody bandage that had been wrapped around her forehead.

Shawn and Trina Gallagan had been at Sonny's Sicilian Eatery celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary when a group of blood-drenched, sickly looking people showed up and started attacking everything in sight.

Total bedlam ensued and Trina had been knocked out after a big man tackled her to the floor. Shawn had been forced to break a chair over the man's back, but even then, he still charged after them like nothing happened.

In the end, only Shawn, Trina, the owner Sonny and two of his employees, R.J. Farrell and Denise Carlson, managed to escape after a kindly farmer had been passing through and allowed them to hop into the back of his pickup truck. They eventually crossed paths with an R.P.D. officer, who directed them to the bank, and here they were now.

Ever since then, the young man maintained a protective vigil over his wife and insisted that only he treat her, refusing to allow the police medic present to even touch her.

"You just hang in there sweetie, we're going to make it out of this if it's the last thing we do," he whispered to his wife, kissing her hand before placing it on her stomach.

Beatrice, R.J. and the Burger Kong employee Marty Grimes all stood nearby, watching the woman closely. They were being visibly cautious after what they had seen take place over the past two days, Marty in particular as he recalled the broken form of his co-worker Burt lying on the ground after a fall that should have fractured his skull, only to rise a few hours later.

Sonny meanwhile stood near the desk in the corner of the office, where a stocky man with short dark brown hair, week old stubble and prominent eagle tattoo on his right bicep, had turned it into his personal workspace.

A reloading tool sat in front of him and surrounding it were several empty 9mm. and 12-gauge shotgun cartridges, all of which were being filled with black powder.

"You sure you can do that Mr. Kendo?" Sonny asked with great concern, "I've heard of those things and they're illegal," he spoke in reference to the enhanced ammunition being produced.

"They've got bigger things to worry about right now," Joe Kendo replied, unworried about the cops filling the place, "With all those damned freaks running around outside, I seriously doubt they'll have time to bust me for a couple enhanced rounds."

Joseph Kendo knew exactly what he was doing. He had been a weapons specialist in the Vietnam War and now ran the Kendo Gun Shop in conjunction with his younger brother Robert. Both of them were well-known amongst the R.P.D., in particular the former S.T.A.R.S. team they had provided weapons for plenty of times in the past.

"Besides, I bet they'd forget those laws pretty fast if those things come knocking on our door again," the gunsmith chuckled, proudly displaying one of the finished blue cartridges for the restaurateur.

A loud moan escaped Trina's lips as she lay in a tortured slumber, prompting everybody except her husband to stop what they were doing and stare in horror. R.J. and Beatrice both quickly backed up.

"Hang in there honey, everything's going to be alright!" Shawn said as he began rubbing her shoulder.

"Dude, I seriously don't like the sound of that," R.J. blurted out as he inched his way towards the entrance.

None of them did, it reminded them too much of the zombies from the streets.

"Are you sure she just has a bump on the head and that's it?" Beatrice asked as she again took in the woman's pale complexion.

"I tell you, I'm positive!" Shawn declared, "Now please, just help me watch over her!"

"I don't believe you!" Marty growled and pushed the unstable husband aside. Reaching down, he pulled up the woman's right arm, which had purposely been hidden underneath one of the couch's creases, and immediately took notice of the blood covering her wrist and hand. Turning her arm to the side, he instantly noticed the deep bite mark on her forearm, similar to the one Burt had shown him at work.

"Well I'll be…" he muttered and raised the arm for everybody else to see.

"Shit man, we've gotta tell the cops about this!" R.J. shouted to the others and hurriedly rushed toward the door.

"You will do no such thing!" Shawn hollered and produced a .38 caliber revolver he had begun carrying after he and his wife were accosted by that member of the Jokers in Raccoon Park. With a squeeze of the trigger, a gunshot echoed throughout the building.

R.J. Farrell collapsed to the floor with a crimson stain blossoming on his chest. He convulsed violently as blood gushed from the fresh wound and struggled to breathe as he coughed up even more blood. Following a sick gurgle he moved no more and his eyes stared to the ceiling forever opened in anguished horror.

"My god…" was all Beatrice could gasp, while the other three men in the room stood silent in shock, still not having registered what just happened.

Quickly turning his gun on Marty, another shot resounded at the Burger Kong employee fell over with a round to the face, dead before he hit the ground.

The second shot was enough to break the others out of their trances and they started to move, but Beatrice wasn't fast enough and took a round to her shoulder as she turned to run. Falling to the floor, she could only scream in pain as the hot metal seared through her flesh and left her unable to move her arm.

Sonny saw the mentally unhinged man coming and dove for cover behind an alcove; while Kendo had overturned the desk he sat at and raised his own gun to return fire.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The gunshots echoed throughout the bank, everybody jumping as they suspected the worst.

"That came from down the hall!" Jean Ross shouted to his colleague Andy Parsons and both men quickly bolted towards the sound of the shots.

"Do you think one of those things got inside?" Andy asked as he struggled to withdraw his Beretta and run at the same time.

Jean didn't reply to his inquiry and just focused on getting to that office. He skidded to a halt in front of the opened office, to find the barrel of a gun thrust in his direction.

Shawn Gallagan stood tall over the corpses of the Burger Kong employee and that one teenager who worked at Santino Maritato's joint, R.J. he believed his name was. Both of them had been shot to death, by the .38 revolver the young man carried.

Nearby, a senior bank employee named Beatrice McCurdy writhed on the floor in pain, a bullet wound through her shoulder. Her agonizing cries struck a nerve with the veteran officer and prompted him to act.

"Freeze! Drop your weapon!" Jean ordered, never taking his eyes away from the unstable armed man.

"No! I'm not letting you take her away from me! Never!" the young man screamed at the top of his lungs, his tone indicating sheer insanity. He even looked the part with his matted down, curly strawberry blond hair and wrinkled, bloody clothes, a dark green tie still hanging around his neck that looked as if it had been dipped in a bucket full of blood.

Raising his gun, Gallagan fired two shots in Jean's direction. The officer ducked out of the way and the man's bullets pinged off of the metal doorframe.

Andy saw his partner's quandary and fired at the man, who quickly dove for cover behind another large sofa in the room. From his angle, he could see the man crawling on all fours behind a nearby counter and tried for another shot, but the couch and some small filing cabinets would have prevented it from connecting.

The young man suddenly realized he had been separated from his wife and peeked up over the counter.

"Oh god, Trina!" he shouted, only to duck a second later as more bullets whizzed in his direction, coming from the other side of the room.

"Help us! This guy's insane!" the unseen shooter called out.

"Gallagan, this is your last call. Drop your weapon and come out with your hands up! We can end this like civilized people!" Jean called out, trying to act as "by the book" as he could in a testy situation.

"Screw all that diplomatic crap, just kill the crazy fucker!" the unseen man again shouted.

Andy was ready to open fire, knowing the man was now considered a serious threat, and went to raise his gun, only to be stopped by Jean.

"What are you doing?" the young cop hissed towards his veteran colleague, "That guy just killed those two people, wounded another and now he's trying to kill you!"

"Andy, we can't just shoot this guy," Jean explained, "We've gotta do this as we were taught whether we like it or not."

Sure, he was angry at the man for killing those two civilians and then wounding another. Part of him really wanted to blast that man for what he did, but the more logical side of his mind remained in control, reminding him that it would be against his principles as an officer of the law.

"What's going on here?" a new voice cut in.

The duo turned to see their burly colleague Ray Wilkes charging towards them with his shotgun in hand, two more officers behind him.

"Some bastard just snapped in there," Andy replied motioning towards the opened door.

Another shot rang out and the officers jumped as a portion of the wall exploded across from them.

"Well it's going to end soon!" Ray said with a pump of his Benelli M3.

Jean could only stare in disbelief, knowing that Ray Wilkes was not somebody who could be contained by his more logical approach. The man was a Grade A hard ass who couldn't be stopped once his mind was set to busting a bad guy, even if it meant lethal force would have to be applied.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake had been in the middle of washing his hands after relieving himself when the string of gunshots filled the air.

Now, he was racing through the front lobby with his shotgun out, bobbing and weaving around the civilians who stood in confusion and horror at the sudden racket, and the officers who struggled to calm them.

Reaching the hall where the shots were coming from, he found five officers surrounding an opened office, and the same burly officer from the cafeteria with his shotgun out, firing a few blasts into the room.

One of the officers heard his footsteps and turned around with his hand raised to halt him, "Hold it right there! It's too dangerous to come here!"

"What's going on?" the hitman asked as another civilian approached, a man in a plaid vest and camouflage hat armed with a hunting rifle.

"Some guy's gone ballistic," the officer replied, his nametag identifying him as "D. Cahill."

"Hands in the air where we can see them!" the shotgun-toting officer suddenly shouted and charged into the room.

"Oh god Trina!" an unseen male called out, followed by an ear-piercing shriek of pain and the officers charged in after their colleague.

Rushing over to the doorway, Jake watched as four of the officers struggled to pull an auburn-haired woman off of a curly-haired man in dress clothes, a revolver falling out of his hand as she tore into him. Two corpses lay on the ground, one he immediately recognized as R.J. from the office and that Burger Kong employee from the TV room. The woman who left with Sonny and R.J. was also present, a visible bullet wound in her shoulder as Officer Cahill attempted to treat her.

"Help me get her off of him goddamn it!" the burly cop shouted as he gripped a handful of the woman's hair and managed to pull her head back, bloody chunks spilling out of her mouth as she gnashed her teeth viciously.

The man fell to the floor as blood gushed freely from his neck wound and one of the officers took his grip away from the woman to kneel down beside him. Grabbing his wrist, the cop felt for a pulse and then shook his head.

"He's dead!" the cop had to shout over the woman's snarling and grunts of his co-workers as they fought to restrain her. Eventually, she managed to shake her head free long enough to turn and sink her teeth into the burly cop's hand.

"Ugh…shit!" the man shouted before grabbing onto her and throwing her to the floor.

The officer from Main St. quickly reached for his cuffs and attempted to restrain the woman, but was pulled off by the bigger cop, who had now recovered and pulled out his sidearm.

BANG!!!

The woman's head struck the carpeted floor hard as a bullet entered the back of her cranium, its contents spilling out like a split watermelon.

There was no immediate reaction as the officer's colleagues and other survivors stood around in shock at what had just transpired.

"Is it safe to come out yet?" Sonny called out, peeking his head out from behind the pillar he hid behind. As Jake stepped into the room, he took notice of a grubby-looking man in a plaid shirt sticking his head out from behind a pock-marked desk.

"Ray, what the hell are you doing?" the Main Street cop asked, looking over to Andy as he finished his question.

"Saving your ass for one, and two, getting some payback on that bitch for fucking biting me!" the burly cop now identified as Ray grunted in reply, pulling out a handkerchief to place over his fresh wound.

"But you killed her-" his colleague spoke.

"Before she could kill you," Ray snapped, "sometimes you can't always do this liberal 'by the book' crap Ross! You should've gotten that through your thick skull when that one damned Joker killed that rookie Winowicz three years ago!"

"You shut the hell up about that!" Ross shouted back, only to be stopped by Andy getting between him and Ray.

"Guys! You guys! Settle down!" the younger officer pleaded, having to restrain Jean while the other stepped up to hold back Ray.

"Hey, if any of you haven't noticed yet, there's a woman here who needs our help!" Cahill shouted to the others.

Finally settling down a little, both Ross and the other cop made their way over to help their friend out with the wounded woman, while Ray walked out of the room to find the medic.

"Oh god R.J.!" Sonny called out as he ran over to inspect the corpse of his newly-deceased employee. Feeling the eyes of Jake and the other civilian staring down upon him, he looked up with tears forming in the corners of both eyes.

"He was a good kid, a damned good kid," the owner dolefully sighed, "had so much going for him and now it's all gone."

"Happened to a lot of people these past two days," said Kendo, stepping up behind the two men.

Jake ignored the gunsmith's comment and stared cautiously at the man who had just been murdered by his own wife.

By now the blood flow from his neck wound had begun to slow and congeal. His eyes and mouth remained open, much in the same spirit of the man he had found torn apart by the demon dogs in that back alley.

Aside from his jugular vein being torn out, the hitman wondered if the dead man would still reanimate, believing his spinal column to still be intact and thus, his brain still untouched. The thought had him gripping his gun protectively, yet he knew he probably wouldn't be able to do it right in front of the other cops present, who still reeled from what their colleague Ray had just done.

"I'm gonna go calm the others," Officer Ross spoke, rising back to his feet, "the rest of you, get some blankets, tarps, whatever you can find. We need to get these bodies out of here."

An idea suddenly popped into the hitman's mind.

"I'll stand guard," Jake announced to the officers, who eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you sure?" Ross asked, looking him up and down like he must have recognized him as one of the civilians traveling with Kevin from the night before.

"Positive," the hitman replied and displayed his shotgun prominently.

"Yeah, I will too," the plaid-shirted man spoke up, "just worry about helping that poor woman."

"Alright, but if anything happens, come get us immediately," Ross replied as both Cahill and the other officer struggled to help the woman back to her feet, getting help from both Sonny and the rifle-wielding man.

Jake waited until the officers were out of the room and turned to the burly man, "Thanks man."

"No problem," the man replied extending his hand, "Joe Kendo."

"Jake Smith," the hired gun introduced himself under his alias.

"That's some pretty heavy duty firepower you got right there kid," Kendo said motioning towards the hitman's shotgun, "Know how to use one of those well?"

"I wouldn't carry it if I didn't," Jake retorted, "I've had to use it to take down quite a few of those 'things' out there," he explained, careful not to mention the true nature of those tongue creatures he encountered. He wasn't sure if everybody knew of their existence and didn't want to cause further alarm.

"Have some of these," the older man said, pulling out a box full of blue shotgun cartridges.

The hired gun instantly recognized them as Black Taurus rounds. Deadly, powerful and illegal, they packed twice the punch of normal 12-gauge shells, he knew from having used some in the past.

"Thanks," Jake muttered and returned his attention to the dead man on the floor. "If I were one of those cops, I'd be worried about that chump lying there on the ground."

"Who, that Gallagan fellow over there? Kendo asked staring down at the man's corpse himself.

"Yeah, that woman bit him," Jake motioned towards the woman shot dead by Ray. "She was carrying whatever those zombies outside had. I wouldn't be surprised if that 'Gallagan fellow' suddenly rose back from the dead himself."

"Are you sure about that?" Kendo asked again, "She tore his throat out pretty bad, how can we know if he'll come back from that. Hell, how can you be certain those things out there are even 'zombies' for sure?"

"They have to be," the hitman continued as he observed R.J. and the other man's corpses, "Those two died from bullet wounds, so I don't think we'd have to worry about them."

"How can you know? Have you actually seen one of those things transform?" the older man continued, "All I know was that I was on my way back to my brother's and mine gun shop when those things started coming out of the woodwork and tried to overturn my van with me inside."

Again, Jake's mind traveled back in time, back to the staff room at J's Bar when he watched the dying Dale Jeffers come back as one of those 'things' and try taking a chunk out of George.

"I have," he flatly replied and reached for his Beretta. Opening a pouch on his belt, he pulled out his silencer and screwed it onto the end of the pistol, "and there's only one way we can prevent this."

"You're serious?" Kendo asked flabbergasted, staring intently at the gun his companion now pointed at the dead man's head.

"I am. The only way to kill these freaks is either through immolation, decapitation or a shot to the head, and I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen to this guy."

Leveling his gun on the man, he squeezed the trigger and with a muted puff, ended Shawn Gallagan's chances of ever becoming one of the living dead.

Author's Notes: Okay, that concludes the latest edition of "Darkness Arises: Reborn" for your viewing pleasure. Normally I haven't been talking much towards the end of my updates, but I have quite a few random, fun notes to address this time around, just for the sake of absolute randomness, or in case there were a few instances where you are like "now that sounds familiar" and what not:

Andy – Andy is not an original character of mine. For those of you who haven't played it (myself being among them, but knowing this thanks to the joys of the internet), after you beat the "Desperate Times" scenario of "Resident Evil: Outbreak – File 2," Andy becomes a playable character, the guy who is bitten up pretty badly right away.

Burger Kong – Thanks to an RE2 strategy guide I own, where the author had too much time on his hands, I was able to pick this fictitious business out and throw it in for my own sheer amusement. Judging by the color scheme of the bag, I wanted to make Marty's outfit similar to that of the Well Stacked Pizza employees seen in "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas."

Joe Kendo – Joe Kendo does indeed exist. In "Resident Evil 3: Nemesis," he is mentioned by name in the "Fax from Kendo Gun Shop" file you find in the S.T.A.R.S.' fax machine.

Politics – Despite the snide comment where Ray criticizes "liberal 'by the book' policies, I just want my readers to know that I am neither a Conservative nor a Republican-leaning voter. I just wanted to throw in a hard assed cop character with an edge, similar to the cops seen in "Manhunt."

Minnesota Barbarians – A parody of the Minnesota Vikings football team.

Indeed that "Mr. Rosso" was Dario from RE3 and the girl was supposed to be the same girl that Jill spots briefly on the street, later finding her corpse outside the warehouse where she started.

I know the RE3 guide explains that Jill used to be a member of the U.S. Delta Force, but according to Crow T R0bot, that has to be impossible because 1.) She is a woman and apparently Delta Force only accepts males and 2.) You have to be 22 years old to join, which would have to be an extremely BRIEF tenure she had on the Delta Force if that was the case. Again, thanks to Crow for pointing that out.

Well that's enough out of me so until next time, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!!!


	12. Ch 11: Left Behind

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Once again I come to you with my latest installment of DA:R and before I go any further, I want to point out my Street Fighter fic "Street Fighter: The Chosen Ones" because in my latest chapter, Jake Cavanaugh makes his first appearance and yes, he will be a prominent character in that story as well.

For now though, let's just focus on the zombie blasting action of "Darkness Arises: Reborn!"

Chapter 11: Left Behind

**September 26, 1998, 7:05 a.m.**

She looked so peaceful as she lay there, relieved of her suffering and with no cares left in the world.

_"At least you're safe from all this madness, while the rest of us have to go on suffering," _Officer Dennis Cahill thought to himself as he replaced the sheet over the body of Beatrice McCurdy. The poor woman bled out shortly after being rescued from the office, the bullet having penetrated crucial arteries in her shoulder. Without any available paramedics, she was as good as dead.

It always ate him up inside whenever an innocent bystander died under his watch. As it did with any dedicated officer, he felt as if he failed his sworn promise to "serve and protect." Needless to say, these past few days hadn't done much for his psyche either. Seeing all those innocent people dying kept taking him back to ten years ago, when he was still a rookie barely fresh out of the academy.

There had been a bank robbery in this very building, in which he and his then-partner, Clarence Peterson, had been the first officers on the scene. Right away they found a random bystander's body shot up, an image which still haunted him to this day. Apparently he had tried to be a hero and paid dearly for it in the end. Little did he know, that was only just the beginning. S.W.A.T. was eventually called in and it ended in a bloodbath with all four robbers being shot dead.

It was an incident that had required several trips to the station's grief counselor, Dr. Langley. Although the good doctor was able to offer relevant advice, his feelings still lingered knowing that man could never be brought back, as was the case with those other innocents.

_"Come on, snap out of it Dennis!" _his inner voice told him, _"Right now, you have to focus on living and saving whoever you can. You can't save everybody, but you can try."_

Dennis sighed deeply and collapsed onto a nearby couch, wanting so badly to pass out, but forced himself awake knowing him and his colleague Cal Morstan were on guard duty, charged with defending the "infirmary" that had been set up. Sure, much hadn't happened overnight, but he was left weary from the toll this entire incident had taken on his mind and body.

On a desk in the center of the room lay his colleague Ray Wilkes, placed in restraints after he fell into a delirious state, believed to be a side effect from that bite he had sustained at the hands of Trina Gallagan. Throughout the night, he had been drifting in and out of consciousness, letting out and occasional groan every now and then.

The medic, Jurgens, tended diligently to the sickly officer and was currently unwrapping the bandage around his left hand. It was here that he finally got a better look at the man's injury and quickly wished he hadn't.

Deep teeth marks shown prominently in the back of the man's hand, and right away, a rotten clump of flesh fell to the floor with a disgusting splat as the bandage was removed. The flesh had blackened around the jagged wounds and was outlined by this weird greenish substance that almost resembled mold. Pus still bubbled freely in the crevices, taking on a reddish cast from being mixed in with the blood underneath.

He could recall how Ray scratched away obsessively at his fresh wound just minutes after it was sustained, even ignoring Jurgens' pleas not to pick at it from beneath his bandages. Aside from that, he noticed other symptoms exhibited by his colleague that he had seen from a bank teller who had been bitten outside the bank, right up until the moment he lost consciousness and suddenly reanimated, only to be put down seconds later by one of the S.W.A.T. members.

In addition to the delirium, his skin had turned to an unhealthy grayish shade, and was already beginning to slowly peel off in huge clumps, much like on his hand, forcing the medic to apply antiseptic and then large bandages all over the forming wounds.

_"He's starting to look like one of those things outside," _the officer thought to himself as he observed a portion of the carpet next to the desk, where the fabric had been eaten away after Ray vomited out a stream of liquid. Whatever it was, it actually scalded through the material like acid, at least that's what he assumed it was judging by the steam that rose up and the evil hissing noise that followed. Hell it even smelled like acid. _"I was there when that woman bit him too…"_

Dennis began to recall something his friend and colleague David McGraw had told him about that he had witnessed personally during that skirmish between the Rooks and the Jokers that he had been called in to help subdue.

It was exactly one week ago today when the two local gangs had engaged in a massive gunfight in the tough Brantford District, one which resulted in the deaths of twenty gang members, nine arrests and three civilians being hospitalized. He had not been called in himself, but had seen crime scene photos taken after the massacre. The one that stood out most was the photo he had seen of the Joker that David had confronted personally.

The man's skin was gray and heavily blistered, his teeth were yellowed and chipped and his eyes were completely glazed over. On the man's right forearm he had noticed a bite mark similar to that of Ray's, and dotting the man's chest were open wounds inflicted by an MP5 submachine gun, David McGraw's.

According to his testimony, David had charged into a bedroom, where he found the Joker "eating" one of his own. When he called for the man to surrender, the man ignored him and charged after him like he was a fresh slab of meat. With no other choice, McGraw had been forced to open fire and struck the man in the arm with a single round. When that didn't work and the man continued his charge, he fired a round into the man's kneecap, but yet he still came at him. When it was clear the hoodlum wasn't getting the point, lethal force needed to be administered.

All in all, the officer punched six holes through the man's torso, but yet he charged forth like the bullets were nothing. Eventually, it would take a push down a flight of stairs to incapacitate the man for good.

Granted, this had been a story related to him over a few cold drinks down at J's Bar, but yet there was something to his friend's words that really stung him. It was a haunted, faraway tone like he had literally seen a monster coming to life right before his very eyes.

He knew his friend had been a horror movie buff during his teenage years and could have easily dismissed the notion as the combination of an overactive imagination and alcohol, yet for some reason he wanted to believe him right away.

Then all of this started happening around them.

"How's he holding up Doc?" Cal asked peering over the shorter man's shoulder.

"Not good," was the medic's only reply, "I've done everything I can for him, but his vitals are still dropping at an alarming rate." He then suddenly paused and stared warily to both men before continuing, "I hate to say this, but I could have another lost cause on my hands," he said, looking over to the covered body of Beatrice McCurdy.

"Do whatever you can," was Dennis' reply, "He might be a hard ass, but he still doesn't deserve to go through something like this."

"I really don't know if there's much I can do," the medic replied as a loud groan sounded from behind them, muting the last part of his sentence.

The trio turned to find Ray thrashing violently on the desk, frothing from the mouth as he fought to break his restraints. Aside from handcuffs, there were some straps found in a storage closet that were used to help bind his arms, but his bulk barely kept them in place.

"Oh god, he's starting to act like one of those things from outside," Cal blurted out, backing himself slowly towards the door. "What are we going to do?"

A loud snap made the three men jump as the burly man managed to break through one of the arm restraints. Utilizing all his might, Ray continued to thrash about until he had managed to flip the desk over onto its side.

"Shit…" Cal muttered and looked on uneasily with Jurgens. Dennis kept his gun drawn and slowly approached the overturned desk. Ray lay on his side against the desk, blood beginning to pool around his head.

"_Could that fall have really killed him?" _the officer pondered as he knelt down next to the fallen man's body and felt his neck for a pulse. He felt nothing and turned to face the others and report his findings.

A feral growl sounded from behind and Dennis turned to find a supposedly dead Ray snapping to life and lunging at his former colleague, causing him to pull the trigger on reflex.

The bullet caught Ray in his collarbone, yet he still continued to thrust himself forward, held back only by the other strap.

Dennis pushed himself away with gun in hand, never taking his eyes away from the newly-turned zombie. Looking closer, he observed the other strap holding the thrashing beast, noticing a tear that would cause it to come apart following another lunge. He then suddenly remembered something from a radio transmission he had heard two nights ago.

"_Ryman said to shoot them in the head," _he told himself staring down at his gun, _"Shoot them in the head," _he repeated. The gnashing of Ray's rotten teeth drew his attention back to his former colleague, who by now appeared to be one of "them."

"I'm sorry Wilkes," he whispered and pulled the trigger.

Cal and Jurgens both stood silent in shock, breathing heavily as the gunshot still rang in their ears.

"Dennis…what the hell did you just do?" Cal gasped, his mind having failed to process what just occurred, even though it happened right before his very own eyes.

"I have no idea…" the man replied looking down to his smoking gun. Even he was unable to comprehend what he had just done. Sure, he just shot one of his own colleagues dead, but even he had to question whether or not that was the same man he had known for the last five years.

Had he just done something good or something bad?

A loud thump sounded from above, taking his attention away from his fresh kill. "Did you guys just hear that?"

Both men did not respond immediately to his inquiry, still focused on the dead body of Ray Wilkes. A few more thumping noises sounded from the ventilation system above, but it took a weird chirping noise to finally make them turn their attention upward.

The thumping noises grew in force and seemed to draw closer. All three men drew their weapons and keeping them trained on the nearest vent, sweat practically raining off of their bodies and itchy trigger fingers ready to act at the first sign of provocation.

And then they suddenly stopped.

"What-" Jurgens spoke up, just as the steel vent and most of the ceiling tiles came raining down.

Emerging from the collapsed ventilation duct was something unlike anything Dennis Cahill had ever seen, and left him wasting little time in pulling his trigger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You find any larger batteries?" Rahne Medina asked as she gathered up some more medical supplies on the nearby shelf.

"Just what kind of 'larger batteries' are you looking for?" her co-worker Delbert Turco asked as he loaded a fresh pair into his flashlight, "There's plenty of 'larger batteries' over here."

"Beats me exactly how many they want," she replied as she walked over to see things for herself, "probably a lot. Everything is in high demand with what's going on outside."

"Tell me about it," Delbert replied as he picked up the cardboard box he had stuck some supplies into, "I told those boys that I used to be a National Guardsman and that I could have helped them defend this place, but still they won't let me do shit around here. They probably think now because I'm just 'some accountant in a suit and tie' that I'm incapable of helping them. That's just too damn ridiculous!"

"My brother-in-law's a cop and my sister has been trained how to use a gun, yet he won't let her go anywhere near his service pistol, even if a burglar breaks into the house," Rahne replied as she placed some batteries in her own box. "Then again, they're probably feeling a little apprehensive after what that guy did to Beatrice and those two other men yesterday."

"Yeah," Delbert said as he thought of their murdered co-worker Beatrice McCurdy, "I just wanna get out of this place as soon as they can get us past those 'things'."

Placing his box on a now decommissioned copy machine, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to reveal the first picture he always saw whenever he opened it, one which greeted him with the warm smiles of his wife and daughter.

It had now been two days since he had last seen them, and he seriously hoped they had managed to reach one of the safe houses, praying they hadn't tried to traverse the dangerous streets. He then thought of that cable car plowing down that poor bicycle messenger, who had been trying to escape from an entire group of those things. He had to clamp his eyes shut and shook his head fiercely to expel the image from his mind.

All attempts to contact his beloved Narcissa had been in vain. There was absolutely no cellular reception, suggesting that maybe some of those maniacs had probably already taken down the tower over by that one old factory on the outskirts of town. Neither the payphones nor any of the office phones were working either.

"Thinking about them huh?" Rahne asked, knowing often he stared at the picture of his wife and child, how they were his pride and joy and everybody around the office knew about them.

"Yeah, looking at this photo is probably the only thing that keeps me from going and jumping off the roof at a time like this," he replied and carefully slid the wallet back into his pocket. "Have you heard anything regarding Pete yet?"

"No…" the woman trailed, "…he probably went off to cover this whole mess, like he tried to that big gang battle from a week ago. Damn it, sometimes he's so overzealous when it comes to getting these events captured," she spoke in reference to her husband's job.

Pedro Medina was a freelance photographer working for the Raccoon Press, and instead of pictures of normal things like parades or college sporting events; he always had to tackle the riskiest assignments, which had led to a fair share of arguments between the couple.

"_I still remember that picture he brought home the other night," _the teller thought to herself, an image that gave her nightmares later on that night. It had been a close-up shot of this insane individual who had nearly torn his throat out. _"A zombie he said it was."_

A loud thump sounded from the ventilation duct above, stopping both employees from what they were doing.

"You hear that?" Delbert asked, staring intently at the duct, "It's coming from in there."

The thumping sounded again, much closer this time and judging by the sound it almost sounded like it was roughly the size of an adult.

"Do you think somebody's trying to escape?" Rahne gasped.

A loud clang resounded as the ventilation cover was knocked to the ground and both employees instantly dropped their boxes, screaming in terror as they saw what stood before them.

It was the last thing either one of them would ever see.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The crack of a hunting rifle's blast filled the air and yet another zombie collapsed to the pavement with half of its skull obliterated.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel," Hal Stinnett remarked, ejecting the spent rifle casing and looking through his scope for his next target.

"This ain't no game Hal, just focus on blasting those damned things before they get too close," Joe Kendo scolded his friend before firing a round into the face of a teenaged boy wearing a letterman's jacket from the local high school.

Both men were ace shots, one of the primary factors in them being deputized by the R.P.D. officers present. They had been placed on the rooftop and charged with lookout duty throughout the night. It was now early morning and the rising sun's glow had shone upon the street below them.

With the morning glow came an uncensored view of the bloodshed beneath them.

There were wrecked cars everywhere, like they had been haphazardly tossed about by an angry giant, barring access to many of the surrounding shops, as well as several side streets that would have enabled them to escape faster. Smoke still rose from beneath crumpled hoods and Joe nearly jumped as he noticed a bloody hand smashing through the driver's side door of a station wagon that had swerved to a halt in front of the nearby Camelot Comics store.

Shattered remnants of newspaper vendors, mailboxes, parking meters, hot dog stands and other objects also made navigating the street treacherous, but they had also impeded the progress of the approaching zombies.

Countless corpses littered the ground surrounding the bank, both shot up and chewed up, their dried up blood having long discolored the once gray pavement beneath them. A few charred corpses littered the ground in front of an auto parts store, where Hal had detonated an oil drum in one shot.

More continued to come from opposite directions and their volume was slowly beginning to pick up. For once Kendo found himself asking if they really had enough ammo to hold off all of these things.

"Light them up?" Hal asked picking up a bottle full of gasoline with an oily rag sticking out.

"Damn right," the gunsmith replied, firing a round through the face of a burly biker with a Confederate flag vest and skull and crossbones 'do rag.

With a flick of his gold-plated lighter, the rag was ignited and the bottle was tossed into a small group that moved closely together, all of the members ignited. Some of them fell right away, but others still staggered about, only to be dispatched by headshots from the ace marksman Kendo.

"Damn, I've tossed five of these things into those bitches already and they still keep on coming!" Hal shouted over the moans of more approaching zombies.

"Well they'd better be telling us to get the fuck outta here soon! We don't have enough to go through all these damned things!" Kendo replied, loading a fresh round of shells into his rifle. He looked down next to him where his Mossburg rested, getting a gut feeling like he would end up having to use it soon.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

A loud clicking noise suddenly caught the gunsmith's attention and he whirled around, finding nobody there. To his knowledge there were two officers guarding the roof entrance, ensuring nobody without the proper clearance would be getting through.

"_Yet that almost sounded like it wasn't coming from the stairs," _he thought to himself as he looked around, straining his vision beyond the plumes of smoke surrounding the building. The clicking noise resumed and he slung the rifle over his shoulder, reaching for his shotgun.

Reaching over he tapped Hal on the shoulder, "Hey, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Hal asked, seemingly irritated that he was being forced to take his attention away from the zombies down below. The clicking noises sounded again and he too knelt in a combat ready position, saying nothing in reply.

"There!" Kendo whispered, pointing at an oddly-constructed shadow disappearing behind the entranceway.

"Come on out, whatever the hell you are!" Hal shouted and fired a round, much to his friend's horror.

"Hal, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Kendo hissed, once again finding himself irritated by his friend's "go in guns blazing" approach compared to his calm, cautious method.

"Trying to kill the son of a-"

It was then that the thing stepped into view and both men found themselves squeezing their triggers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jason Pierce sighed as the warm water caressed his hands, feeling like it had been an eternity since he had last washed them. If he had his way, he would be taking a nice hot shower right now, but would have to make due with what he had for now. He then smeared it all over his face, continuing until brownish soot spilled into the sink.

"_Good as new…for the time being," _he thought as he stared at his own reflection in the mirror. His short red hair he normally wore spiked up was now plastered down to his head and in serious need of a wash after going two days without a shower. Cupping his hands together, he caught some of the water and sprinkled it over his head until all of his hair had been soaked. Seeing the hand dryer nearby, he knelt down and turned it on, letting it dry his hair for him.

Taking some paper toweling he wiped off any excess water. Looking back towards the sink, he caught sight of his beanie resting near the faucets, and the Glock-17 resting on it, the very gun that had once belonged to his asshole of a stepfather.

His blood began to boil as he thought back to two nights ago when those things suddenly appeared from out of nowhere.

He had been over to his best friend T.J.'s house, having their usual weekend shindig with their friends Justin, Coley, Candra, Mickey, Jules and Sully, when some sick-looking guy knocked on the door in apparent need of assistance.

Poor Jules had to be a "Good Samaritan" and play nursemaid for the guy, only to have her throat ripped out in the end. It didn't end there.

Next thing he knew, more of those freaks were showing up and killed everybody else, leaving him all by himself. Knowing of his stepfather's gun back home, he hopped on his bike and got over there as fast as he could, dodging plenty more of those freaks.

"_Damn it, if only I had that gun earlier on, then maybe they would all still be alive," _he thought to himself, scooping it up and closely examining it again.

So far he had managed to kill thirteen of those "things" outside, among them his stepfather and Garrison Lance, that preppy bastard rich kid who had always given him crap for being poor and coming from a family of alcoholics. Whatever was changing these people had also been affecting pets, and he managed to get a measure of revenge on the Larson's pitbull, the very dog that ravaged him when he was only six years old.

He could only think of those he hadn't heard anything from, like Maya Eddowes, that cute girl from his Biology class, or Davey and Clyde, Ms. Slovak and plenty of others whom he couldn't bear the thought of seeing hurt by this madness.

The restroom door opened and a mustached uniformed officer walked in with a submachine gun slung over his shoulder, one he recognized as Officer Gilchrist.

"Morning kid," the cop chuckled as he walked over to the nearest urinal to relieve himself.

"_Morning to you too, pig!" _the teen thought, scowling at the man while his back was turned. Ever since he had been forced to stay here, the guy had taken to talking down to him like he was a little kid and he hated it.

"Morning!" he forced himself to reply, sticking the gun into his belt and pulling his shirt down so the officer wouldn't notice it right away.

"We might be sticking around here for another day," Gilchrist continued as he zipped up his pants, "I know, going to be hell huh? Stuck in here like a bunch of cattle," the officer said making his way over to the sink.

"Yeah totally…" the teen muttered, stopping suddenly as he heard a thumping noise coming from the ventilation system.

Officer Gilchrist heard the commotion too and raised his submachine gun, tracing the sound with the barrel and ready to fire at any second.

"You think it's another one of those 'things' from outside?" Jason whispered.

The ventilation duct exploded from above and out came something that certainly wasn't a zombie. In fact, it was something they had never seen before. It shrieked at them menacingly and made its charge.

"Oh shit! Kid, get out of here!" Gilchrist shouted and opened fire on the creature, "Get out of here now!"

Jason stood frozen in place, terrified of what he had just laid eyes upon. It wasn't until the creature shot out a scythe-like claw and viciously slashed the officer across his chest that he was finally able to move.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gunfire and screams rang out from various locations around the building, forcing everybody in the room awake.

"What the fuck?" Jake blurted out as he scrambled for his shotgun.

"What's going on out there?" Sonny shouted as he hastily scooped up his revolver.

The other armed survivors picked up what weapons they had and assumed combative positions.

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good," another man spoke up, who had been armed with a hunting knife.

Jake ignored their comments and made his way over to the door with his shotgun raised. He peered through the small window, but couldn't see anything from his angle and pushed it open.

That Jason kid came running towards him at full speed, forcing the hitman to brace himself as he looked like he was about to crash into him head on.

"We have to get out of here! There's some seriously fucked up shit going on, and it's worse than those things outside!" the teen shouted, collapsing into Jake's arms as he finished his rant.

"What things?" Jake asked, assuming that maybe one of those skinless creatures had somehow found its way over here.

"That!" he screamed pointing his finger at a creature emerging from around the corner. It wasn't one of those skinless creatures, but it looked twice as horrific.

The only way he could describe it right away was as if it were some kind of cross between a human and an insect. Like the skinless creatures, it was roughly human-sized, but he couldn't tell right away if it was supposed to resemble a cockroach, a flea or an arachnid.

It had a brown, almost greenish, cast to it and was covered from head to toe in thick hairs, had a segmented thorax, six-inch long talons on all four limbs with two additional limbs sprouting out of its shoulders with sickle-like claws on the ends, and a hideous spider-like face with a multitude of black eyes and razor sharp-looking mandibles in place of a lower jaw.

"And just what the hell are you?" Jake whispered as he pumped his shotgun, "Jason, get in the office now," he quietly ordered, sensing the teen standing behind him. He stood ready with his shotgun trained on the mysterious beast, unknowing whether or not it was aware that a powerful weapon was being trained on it.

After a few tense seconds the creature finally made its move, letting out a loud screaming noise before pushing itself onto its hind legs and charging towards the hitman, flailing its arms the entire way.

Sidestepping the charging beast, he barely ducked under one of its upper claws and nearly fell onto his back as he fired a round of buckshot into the monster's backside. Steadying himself, he fired again and caught the creature in what he assumed was its hip, sending it staggering to the floor and catching its claws on the nearest wall, ripping up much of the drywall in the process.

Somehow, the monster was still alive after taking two blasts of buckshot and struggled to regain its balance. It was then that he took notice of the slimy green substance leaking out of the fresh wounds inflicted by his shotgun.

"_This thing doesn't even bleed normal," _he thought to himself as he watched the green liquid continue to pour out of its carapace with every abrupt movement it made.

A weird blowing noise came from the creature and the hitman watched as a strange mist-like vapor emitted from its "mouth." Whatever it was, Jake knew it couldn't have been good news and leapt backward, barely dodging the substance as it struck the ground and evaporated just a second later.

"You've had your fun, now it's time for you to join the other freaks," Jake said as he fired another blast into the monster's thorax, spraying more green blood onto the ground and surrounding walls. Pulling the trigger again, the creature was finally knocked flat onto its back, but its limbs continued to flail, preventing him from getting close enough to fire another shot into its face. Instead, he blew off its left leg and then got close enough to fire another round into its chest and throat area, ending its struggle for good.

"Oh god, what is that thing?" another woman called out, sobbing as she took in the monstrosity that lay before them.

"_Another one of Umbrella's 'pets' no doubt," _he said to himself, knowing it probably wouldn't go over too well given that nobody would probably believe the pharmaceutical company could be capable of creating such a thing.

Yet another crash came, this time from inside the very office they had been sleeping in.

The ventilation duct directly over the desk was knocked from its hinges and yet another beast fell to the desk below, splintering it beneath its weight. Wasting no time, the monster started flailing away at the nearest humans, quickly reducing them to bloody strips as it pressed forth.

More gunfire rang out and Jake saw that Jason had now pulled out his own gun and started firing away at the approaching beast, his rounds only succeeding in knocking it back a few steps.

Pushing his way through the remaining survivors, Jake raised his shotgun and fired into the monster's side, knocking off one of its claws and spraying more green blood into the air. The creature could only shriek in agony and flail about as the hitman fired another blast into its nightmarish visage, obliterating the rest of its head along with it.

"Shit! Kill these fucking things goddamn it!" another voice called out from the hall.

Jake stepped out just in time to see another cop fall to the floor with one of those things on top of it, tearing into the man as though he was a present being opened on Christmas Day.

"_Damn it, how many more of these things are there?" _he asked himself as he looked around to see Jason, Denise, Sonny and only two other people remained in a room that had once contained twenty plus people. They all looked to him like someone had just died and appointed him leader, a position he wasn't always the most comfortable with, but would take whenever the situation looked bad. This looked line one of those times.

"Come on people, we have to move!" he shouted, jamming some fresh shells into his SPAS-12.

"But are there more of those things out there?" the other woman called out, whose name he picked up as Florence.

"Yeah there are, but we don't have much choice. If we continue to sit around here, then they're just going to come charging in like this is some sort of discount at the nearest meat market," Jake spoke as he stepped out into the hall and motioned for the others to follow him.

The other bug-like creature had taken notice of him by now and eagerly charged towards him with fresh blood flinging from its soaked claws and mandibles, perhaps thinking he was dessert.

Jake raised his shotgun and fired into the charging monster, knocking it flat onto its back. Before he could even dare to finish the first beast, another appeared from around the corner, clinging to the ceiling and charging upside down towards him.

"Sorry, you bastards are going to have to work for your meal!" the hitman said as he fired a blast upward that caught one of the monster's on its clawed feet, sending it tumbling to the floor below and landing right next to its "brother."

A bone-jarring shriek sounded as the first monster flipped back to its feet, only to have its face blown apart by a point blank shotgun blast, compliments of Jake, who could only shudder in disgust as its green blood coated his favorite coat afterward.

"_Gotta be careful so I don't get this shit in my mouth or any open wounds," _he thought as he shook the slimy substance away from his arms and shook some off with his coat, not wanting to wipe it away with his hands. _"Who knows what I'd get."_

The second bug creature leapt back to its feet as well, but was quickly riddled by several 9mm rounds before a powerful magnum blast struck it in its shoulder, leaving it an easy target for the hitman's shotgun.

Turning around, he found Jason and Sonny both standing there, their guns still smoking. Sweat dripped freely from the two men and they panted heavily after their close call.

"See what I mean?" he rhetorically asked, referring to the possibilities that would follow if they sat around for too long.

Jake led the small group down the hall towards the lobby, but they all stopped once they finally caught sight of the massacre that had just occurred.

The entire area was strewn with dead bodies, all of them looking like they had just been sent through a combine harvester. All were covered in deep slash marks and were missing limbs or internal organs. It was a gut-wrenching sight that was too much for a group of survivors that had spent their entire night surrounded by death and chaos.

"Oh god…" the other man with the group blurted out and felt the bile rising up in his throat. No longer able to contain it, he quickly rushed over and emptied his stomach's contents in the nearest trashcan.

"My word…" was all Sonny could say, not wanting to look at the bloody mess, yet forcing himself to look. He felt like he was in a slaughterhouse and felt even sicker as he noticed that a majority of the corpses belonged to the police officers assigned to protect them.

Denise, meanwhile, was overcome by the entire sight and collapsed to her knees, sobbing hysterically and protectively throwing her arms over her head.

"Denise calm down…" Jason said as he knelt down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Look, I'm just as grossed out by all of this bullshit as you are, we all are, but you have to pull yourself together!"

A crash came from above, raining glass down upon the two teenagers. Another one of those weird bug creatures came falling to the floor, landing gracefully on its feet and making a beeline for the two.

Knowing his shotgun wouldn't produce the desired effect, Jake withdrew his S&W Model 629 .44 revolver for the first time during his entire stay and trained it on the attacking monster. With a mighty crack, the creature's head exploded like a balloon and its headless body fell before the two teens, both of them leaping backward as its cerebral fluid leaked towards them.

More shrieks followed and three more of those creatures came scuttling into the lobby area, followed by one that was slightly different. This new creature was similar to its kin, yet was more of a sickly greenish color and had more considerable body mass. The thing also had two heads, both armed with sharp-looking mandibles and bulbous eyes.

"We've gotta move!" Jake shouted and inched towards that Florence lady, "Where did you say that other exit was?"

"That way!" she said pointing in the opposite direction and waved her other hand frantically for the others to follow her.

"Alright, move!" the hitman ordered as one of the creatures scurried towards him. Taking a risky move, he allowed the beast to get close enough to him and let it rise to its hind legs, leaving it open for a blast to the face that killed it instantly. This was a powerful gun he was carrying and he knew he couldn't afford to waste ammo with this one.

Knowing he would certainly die if he tried to stay and take these things all by himself, he turned and ran after the others, moving swiftly enough to avoid tripping over any detached limbs or slipping in any puddles of fresh blood.

Rounding the corner, he found another one of those creatures lurking about and a door slamming in front of it, indicating where the others had gone. The monster thrashed away at the door, carving deep gouges into it as it shrieked in bloodthirsty madness. Thanks to its temporary distraction, the hired gun was able to easily dispatch it with a shot to the back of its wrinkled "head."

"Open the door, it's me!" Jake shouted as he pounded on its shredded surface. As he waited patiently, he looked down to the corridor's carpeted floor and spotted the severed head of a familiar sandy blond-haired man, whom he recognized as Officer Cahill from the night before.

The click of a latch came from the other side, "Quick, get in here now!" Sonny hissed and opened the door far enough for him to slide his muscular figure in and then slammed it behind him.

Jake found his group inside a small office, along with that overweight red-haired man and his daughter, both from the cafeteria. The other man who had been with them, Beau he thought his name was, was in the middle of covering the body of an R.P.D. officer with his own station-issued jacket.

"Are those things still out there?" Mr. Rosso whimpered, his teenage daughter again hugging him tightly. The hitman's dark gaze told him everything he already needed to know before he could inquire any further.

"Now what do we do?" Beau tried to ask, only to be cut off by the hysterics of the overweight man.

"You mean to tell me those things are still out there? Still out there?" the man rambled pointing frantically in the eastern direction, "Jesus Christ, what the hell kind of cops do we have out there? They should have been able to kill those things off!"

"Dario, calm down at once!" Sonny shouted to the panicked man, whose daughter began to sob uncontrollably at yet another one of her father's meltdowns.

"How can we calm down? We're going to fucking die here!" the man screamed. "Those things are going to tear us apart while we scream bloody fucking murder! They're going to-"

THWACK!!!

The rambling man was nearly knocked across the room after taking a powerful right hook from the hitman, causing several to scream in both surprise and horror at the sudden action.

Rubbing his sore cheek, Dario Rosso saw the tall man walking towards him menacingly and tried to crawl away, but was flipped onto his back by the man's foot. Before he could cry out again, a shoe was placed upon his chest.

"Please! Don't kill me!" the salesman begged, now beginning to cry. A rancid stench indicated the man had soiled himself.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Jake screamed at fallen man and had to breathe heavily several times before finally calming himself down. "Now you either settle the fuck down or I'm going to personally feed you to those freaks myself. We're certainly not going to make it out of here alive if you can't get your shit together!"

"Oh god, please don't kill my daddy! Please!" the hitman could feel the teenaged girl tugging away at his coat and he turned to face her, giving her the same hard gaze as he did her father.

"_Lucia," _he told himself, remembering her name being uttered aloud in the cafeteria yesterday just before he left. Her blue eyes were now bloodshot from all her crying and although he didn't show it, the sight of her in tears had slowly begun to crack through to him. He couldn't bring himself to harm her in any way and quietly backed down.

"You think any of those cops are still alive out there?" Florence asked, staring uneasily at the dead officer lying in the corner across from her, his face still covered by the R.P.D. jacket.

"I don't know, but we'll have to find out sooner or later," Jake replied.

"Anybody still in here?" a familiar husky voice called out, the cracking of a hunting rifle following, along with the shrieks of those bug creatures.

"Kendo!" the hitman suddenly blurted out and turned to face the others, "Everybody stay put!"

Rushing towards the door, he pulled it open and nearly collided with the burly form of Joe Kendo, now covered from head to toe in both regular blood and that he recognized from those bugs.

"Help me kill these damn things!" he hollered tossing down his now empty hunting rifle and withdrawing his Mossburg.

Two of those creatures still remained and Jake wasted no time firing at them.

KA-BOOM!!!

One of the creature's heads exploded and rained green blood all over the hallway, while the other continued to stalk after the two men.

Kendo tried to open fire, but was knocked flat on his back by the charging beast and was about to be hacked open until a round of automatic fire pierced the air.

The creature squirmed violently as an entire volley of automatic bullets riddled its surface and knocked it flat onto its back. To be sure it was truly dead; the hitman withdrew his magnum and fired the final fatal shot into its noggin.

Turning to help the gunsmith back to his feet, he looked to his left to see both Jean Ross and Andy Parsons standing before him armed with M-4 assault rifles. Behind them was Russ, the RCNN cameraman, who still held onto his camera and guarded it protectively, as it held vital information on what was really happening inside the city.

"Smith, Kendo, are there any more survivors with you?" Jean asked pointing his gun around ready for combat, while Andy stood with his back to him ready to cover the rear.

A crash came from the office, followed by more gunshots, human screams and demonic shrieks.

"Oh god, there's another one of those things!" Dario screamed as he tackled his way through the door, his daughter and Denise both crawling after him. Gunshots still sounded in the office, abruptly cut off as Sonny screamed.

Piling into the office, the four armed men found Beau and Florence both viciously hacked to death and the bigger, two-headed creature latching onto Sonny. Jason lay unconscious in the corner, apparently knocked out by some of the now visible collapsed ceiling tiles.

It was too late for them to save Sonny. The mutant insect towered over the short man and buried its claws into his portly form, spurting blood with each blow. He continued to scream in agony until the monster stabbed one of its mandibles into his neck. A morbid slurping sound followed, like it was literally sucking something out of the man's head.

"Damn you!" Jean screamed at the beast and fired what was left of his current clip into the monster's back, until one of his bullets finally caught it in the back of its neck and it slumped over dead, Sonny's mutilated form crushed beneath it.

The veteran officer breathed heavily, allowing his spent clip to clatter to the ground. Andy and Kendo both said nothing, cautiously checking up on Jason's well-being, who stirred with life and aside from a bump on his head, appeared to be fine.

"So where are we gonna go from here, Officer?" Jake asked the still panting Jean, "Obviously it isn't even safe in here."

"He's right," Kendo added helping Jason back to his feet along with Andy, "We have to get anybody else we can outta here and find a damned working vehicle!"

"But where do we find one? Half the vehicles in this city are probably demolished beyond repair by now. Not to forget, but there's probably plenty of wrecks, fires, broken glass and other hazards that would get in our way," Andy shot back.

"Next door…" Jean cut in, "There's a Raccoon Express building behind here. They should have a delivery truck we could fit a bunch of people into. We'll just have to find some way in, that's all. Yeah, I know there's a bunch of hazards out there too, but right now we don't have much choice."

"Well then we'd better get moving," Andy replied.

Jake had stepped back into the hall while the officers continued to chat amongst themselves and looked to the other survivors, some of whom sobbed quietly at the sight before them, while others just stared blankly, oddly transfixed to another bloodbath.

The makeshift infirmary had been set up in the office next door and the once sterile office was now covered in rapidly drying blood. Two cut up and partially devoured corpses of police officers lay in the room, both of their faces too ravaged beyond repair to discern their identities. Still restrained to an overturned desk was the body of another officer who had been shot in the head, perhaps turned to a zombie. Lastly, there was a headless corpse that lay near the doorway, still clutching a Beretta in hand, perhaps the corpse of Officer Cahill. At the back of the room was what he assumed to be another body, this one covered in a clean white sheet and had somehow managed to avoid being touched by the rest of the carnage in the room.

"Damn," he whispered and reached into close the door. Indeed it had worked and some of the others began to finally look away and chat quietly amongst themselves. Beyond the group he noticed another room labeled "STORAGE" and saw the blood seeping out from underneath, hoping they too wouldn't become distracted by the sight.

"Alright, come on people we're moving out!" Jean shouted and led the way down the hall with Andy at his side.

The group trudged along with Jake and Kendo both bringing up the rear. Before the two men could reach the door though, there was another explosion of gunfire and hurried shouts from the officers, the others being pushed back indoors.

"They need your help!" Russ shouted as he struggled to keep his camera in his hands.

With a collective nod, both men pushed their way past the others and found themselves in the alley between the bank and the Raccoon Express building, which was now filled with zombies. Jean and Andy both had their weapons raised and fired madly into the approaching hordes.

"Remember to aim for their heads!" Jake shouted as he took a position next to Andy and fired his shotgun into the approaching mass.

"We're trying!" the officer shouted back, "It's pretty damned hard when you got some many of these freaks charging towards you like this!"

The hitman had no idea how this many zombies had managed to make it here in such a short amount of time, but for now he had to worry about keeping them at bay long enough to get the others out.

Again withdrawing his shotgun, he wasted no time in firing a volley of hot lead into the nearest zombies who dared approach him, knocking one flat onto its back and destroying another one's head like a blood-filled water balloon, showering its companions with vile brain matter and skull fragments.

Andy struggled next to him trying to take down the zombies, obviously having never fired such a weapon before. His shots struck most of the zombies in their chests and stomachs, but he had managed to score a few lethal headshots before his clip depleted and he scrambled for another.

Jake did the best he could to cover the young officer, going for as many lethal headshots as he could, but yet more zombies continued to pile into the cramped alley. One in particular, dressed in a waitress' uniform, managed to get close enough, only to have the hitman perform a spinning roundhouse kick that knocked her backwards into the crowd of her peers. It temporarily slowed some of them down long enough for Andy to slide a fresh clip into his rifle.

"How are you holding up back there?" Jean called out as he shot down two more zombies that had gotten too close for comfort.

"We're having a great time back here," the hitman sardonically chuckled, "just figure something out so we can get the hell outta here!"

Jean looked over his shoulder to see the back doors leading to the Raccoon Express building and inched backward towards them. Reaching over he attempted to pull the door open, only to find it locked. He partially expected that kind of result, but even he couldn't help but sigh in frustration.

"The door's locked!" he shouted to his companions as they continued to fire away at the approaching hordes.

"So what do we do now?" Kendo shouted back as he blew out the kneecaps of a zombie in a postal worker's uniform, ready to stomp its head in as it crawled after him.

"And think fast man!" Jake added as he blew off half of another zombie's head.

"There!" the officer pointed his barrel upward towards the end of the alley, where they took notice of a fire escape ladder held up by a rusty latch. "We'll probably have to smash a window, but I seriously doubt these things are smart enough to climb a ladder."

"Or we can take the 'shortcut'" a youthful voice chimed.

The four men turned to see Jason stepping into the alley and pulling out a switchblade.

"Jason, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Jean snapped at the teen.

"Trying to be a 'productive citizen' for once in my life!" he retorted and jammed the blade into the keyhole, jiggling it hurriedly as he struggled with the lock.

"We'd better listen to the kid on this one!" Jake shouted over the boom of his own shotgun, taking down a zombie in a butcher's apron and clutching a meat cleaver.

Jason temporarily stopped what he was doing to nod back to the hitman, thankful that at least somebody was sticking up for him. Then again, Jake found himself impressed at how well the teen had managed to handle himself throughout this entire mess.

A loud click sounded, "Okay, I've got it! Get everybody in here now!"

"Quick, everybody get inside now!" Jean shouted and waved everybody into the now opened export warehouse. The remaining survivors bolted across the short gap, while the zombies closed in at the smell of fresh meat.

"Okay, I think that's everybody. Pull it in now!" Jean ordered leaping through the open door.

"Get inside!" Andy ordered, bringing up the rear and firing into the approaching monsters. Eventually his assault rifle clicked dry and he reached for his sidearm.

"Andy!!!" Jean screamed aloud, but it was too late.

Three zombies had managed to get the drop on the younger officer while he reached for his Beretta and sandwiched him between them. A disgusting tearing noise followed as a tall zombie sunk its teeth into his left shoulder, close enough to his throat. The two others settled for what was available, one tearing into his right arm and the other tearing into his left.

"Get away from him you bastards!" Jean hollered and fired into the attackers, driven by the agonized screams of his colleague.

More zombies were beginning to close in and Jake and Kendo both stepped in with their shotguns to provide cover.

The volume of undead had already seemed to increase, seeming as if every available zombie in the city must have been converging upon this very spot. He wanted so badly to pull out one of his grenades, but knew that he would risk endangering his companions. It was another one of those bone-jarring shrieks that made his blood chill.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered and looked down to the opposite end of the alley, where another one of those bug creatures leapt down from the bank rooftop and proceeded to cut its way through the throng of zombies.

Jean and Kendo had managed to knock the zombies off of Andy, but the younger cop still screamed in misery as if he could still feel rotting teeth ripping into his flesh, even as he was forcibly dragged inside. Using his great strength, the hitman struggled to hold the doors shut as Jason and Russ both pushed heavy crates in front of the doors hoping they could slow their attackers down.

The Raccoon Express station was kept rather clean. All of the large crates in the main storage area were kept in even, orderly stacks that nearly reached to the rafters, as well as several steel drums present that were all perfectly lined up. Whatever had been going on outside appeared to have left this space completely untouched.

Parked at the front of the building near the garage doors was a lone delivery truck, suggesting it may have been about to go on a delivery run when the outbreak first occurred.

Loud moans still sounded from outside, as did the shrieks of that bug creature. A loud metallic clatter rang throughout the warehouse, followed by the cracking of glass.

"Oh god, we're not safe even here!" Dario whined, only to stop as he made direct eye contact with the hitman.

Jake glared daggers upon the smaller man and his lips twisted into a frown, the hired gun drawing his thumb across his throat and letting out a low growl that would have made a wolf proud.

"Alright, we're in luck, the keys are still in the ignition!" Jason called out stepping down from the driver's side seat.

"Let's get moving!" Jean shouted to the others as he helped his grievously wounded colleague over to the van, "Come on buddy, we're getting you out of here," he said quietly to Andy.

"Where will we go from here?" Miranda asked as she pulled herself into the van's cargo space. Dario and Lucia were next, helping the injured Andy inside.

"If road conditions permit, we should be able to get onto Packard Dr. and then follow it to the Memorial Intersection near City Hall and then hopefully follow Warren St. to the R.P.D. building. Knowing the boys though, they'll probably have roadblocks set up and I don't think they'd take kindly to a non-police vehicle trying to gain access at a time like this. We'll probably have to ditch this thing and go on foot once we get about a block away," Jean explained as they finally got Andy loaded up.

The veteran officer then turned his attention to the gunsmith, "I'll drive us there. Kendo, I want you up front with me. You can be my gunner, anything that comes within five feet of the truck that doesn't look human; I want you to shoot on sight!"

Kendo nodded silently and accepted the officer's assault rifle.

He then turned his attention to the hitman, "Jake, you're the most well-armed out of all of us. It will be your duty to guard everybody else."

Jake nodded quietly.

"What?" Dario bellowed, "You're entrusting our safety to this loose cannon?"

"Can it Rosso!" Jean snapped, "We don't have much choice. Next to Kendo, Jason and myself, Jake's probably the most capable of fighting his way out of this mess."

"Yeah, who else would you rather have guarding your sorry ass?" Jason added, "One of those bug freaks from the bank?"

A shadow suddenly caught everybody's attention and they looked up to see one of the bug-like creatures climbing across the skylight. Kendo raised the rifle to fire, but was stopped by Jean. The other civilians opened their mouths to scream, but were silenced as Jake placed his right hand to his lips with his index finger raised, motioning for them to remain quiet.

"We're fucked!" Dario whined, until he was stopped by the hitman's threatening glare.

"Shit, we've got one of those bugs crawling above us and God knows how many of those zombies outside," Kendo whispered to Jean, "If we open the door then who knows how many could come flooding in."

"Start the truck now," Jean ordered Russ, cocking his Beretta.

"We don't have much choice," the officer said turning to face Jake and Kendo, "We'll just have to shoot our way through as many as we can until we can get the truck out of here."

"Well it's gonna have to be damn quick!" Jake suddenly shouted as the glass cracked and the bug came crashing through.

The hitman and Kendo were both quick to open fire, but the beast had landed on one of the large crates and used its weight to knock it over, sending the two men scattering.

An ear-piercing rattle sounded as Kendo fired wildly at the monster, who charged towards him like it was being shot with a squirt gun. The gunsmith could only curse repeatedly as he backed up, the rifle clicking dry in time for him to back into Russ, who had stood through the entire ordeal paralyzed by fear. Before he could cry out, the monster was already on top and tearing into them both.

Jake had been forced to bob and weave around several large crates that would soon fall after the monster's rough landing. By the time he finally located the two men it was already too late and they were being dissected by the monster's claws. Pulling out his magnum he fired what was left of his current speed loader into the beast, which let out one final tortured shriek before collapsing dead.

"Son of a…" Jean muttered until he took notice of Jason leaping out to the truck to grab a video tape that had clattered out of the remnants of the cameraman's destroyed news camera.

"Get back in the truck!" he shouted to the teenager as he ran over and slammed down the green button at the side of the garage door. The mechanical door screeched loudly behind him and he could immediately hear the moans and dragging footsteps of the undead following after him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dario watched in horror as Jean pushed the button to open the garage door, inviting those shambling monsters inside and leaving them sitting ducks.

"Oh my god!" he screamed.

The driver's seat was empty and the truck had been started, idling as it waited for all of the remaining survivors to enter.

"We have to get out of here!" the salesman screeched and leapt for the driver's seat.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" his daughter Lucia cried and reached out for him as he made his move.

The passenger side door flew open and Jean pulled himself in, "Rosso no! Not everybody's in here yet! We have to wait for Jake and Jason!" he shouted and tried to prevent him from shifting the truck into gear.

"We can't leave them behind!" Denise shouted as she watched Jake fighting that bug creature.

"Fuck them!" Dario screamed as he wrestled with the officer.

"We're not leaving any men behind!" Jean shouted back as he grabbed a fistful of the salesman's sweaty shirt and threw him against the driver's side window. The portly man had been stunned by the force at which he connected, but before the officer could capitalize, an icy hand reached in and tugged on his leg.

Jean turned to find a zombie in a bloody brown sweater climbing up towards him and attempting to drag him out. More were already gathering around behind him.

"Get off!" he screamed and punched the zombie hard in the face, knocking it back into a few others that had congregated around the door. Reaching out his arm, he had to fight before he could yank the door shut.

With the officer distracted, Dario saw his chance and stomped the gas pedal to the floor. Screeching tires filled the air and the truck sped out at full force, plowing over anything that stood in its way.

"No! We can't leave them behind!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sound of rubber peeling on cold pavement filled Jake's ears as he was in the middle of firing upon the zombies that had filtered into the warehouse.

He spun around to see the Raccoon Express delivery truck speeding out of the building and plowing through an entire wave of zombies entering the building.

"No! Come back!" he cried.

They had been left behind in a warehouse full of zombies and there was only one person he could think of who would have enough nerve to leave without giving them a chance to get in the truck.

"DARIO!!!" he roared to the sky.

It had to be him; he could only picture that fat little coward making such a move.

The urge to chase down that truck and shoot its tires out dominated his thoughts. He wanted to teach Mr. Rosso more than just a lesson in pain right now. That fat pig had left him behind to die and now he seriously wanted to track him down and cut open his bulbous gut and hang him with his own intestines.

"_That will have to wait," _he told himself as he looked over to see Jason being backed into a corner by some of the zombies. Right now, someone needed his help.

With his shotgun dangerously low on ammo, he withdrew his twin Berettas and proceeded to blast them into fertilizer, cutting a path of broken bodies until he finally reached the terrified teen.

"Jake, where the hell do they think they're going?" Jason asked in bewilderment.

"I have no idea, but right now we've gotta focus on getting ourselves out of here," the hitman replied as he holstered his Berettas and withdrew his sword. Zombies continued to pile in through the opened garage doors. "Just stick close to me."

Twirling his blade, Jake rushed at a zombie in a bloodied raincoat and impaled it through the chest, twisting the blade and bringing it up to split the walking cadaver from its chest to the top of its head. Spinning his body around, he cleanly decapitated another zombie who stood at his side and then spun around to trip a third adversary from its feet, bringing his blade down into the back of the creature's skull. Yet another zombie tried to grab the hitman from behind, but he twisted his body and drove the blade straight through the monster's gut until its spinal cord was pierced.

"Too slow," he taunted before finishing it off with a hard kick to the side of its skull, snapping its neck.

Through all of the walking corpses, the hitman spotted a side exit he hadn't noticed until now, "Come on, we're going through there!" he shouted to Jason.

"Sure!" the teen replied and fired into the face of a short zombie that had gotten too close to him.

Jake raised his sword and stabbed it through the neck of portly man in a tattered business suit, kicking his corpse backward and then slicing a woman's head clean off.

"Come on, we're almost there!" the hitman shouted as he tackled another zombie to the ground and continued to slash his sword madly, splattering arcs of blood all around him. Eventually he reached the door and brought his foot up; striking it with a force that nearly knocked it from its hinges.

Both Jake and Jason nearly collapsed as they staggered into the alley, heavily winded. The hitman steadied himself against a dumpster, while the teenager collapsed against the nearby wall. The entrance behind them had thankfully been blocked off by an abandoned ice cream truck, giving them some much needed breathing room.

"Damn…" Jason muttered as he stared at his companion's blood-drenched sword.

A loud bang sounded from behind as remaining zombies continued to pour through the opened door in their endless pursuit.

"Looks like break time is over," Jake said yanking the younger man back to his feet.

"But where will we go from here?" the teen panted as he struggled to keep up with the hired gun.

A rickety old door exploded from Jake's right and before he knew it, a zombie had grabbed onto him and was attempting to tear into his throat.

Jason gasped aloud and raised his gun to fire, but knew there was too much risk of hitting Jake. More moaning sounded from behind and he turned to see more zombies from the warehouse converging upon them.

Jake could hear the increase in moans as he wrestled with the zombie, "Jason, get the hell out of here!"

"No, I can't leave you behind!" the teen protested.

"Do it! I'll be alright!" the hitman replied as he slammed the zombie hard against the nearest wall and struggled for his gun.

Jason looked warily towards his companion and then back to the other zombies. Reluctantly he nodded and disappeared into the same building Jake's attacker had just emerged from.

"Sorry fuck-face," Jake grunted as he used his great strength to create enough distance to where the zombie would not be able to bite into him. Using his free hand, he managed to grab his closest gun and fired a point blank shot into the monster's face.

Tossing his defeated adversary's corpse aside, he continued down the alley and eventually came to a dead end, where there was a dumpster positioned against the brick wall he would easily be able to scale.

The rattle of machine gun fire greeted the hitman as he landed, followed by a string of obscenities. Drawing his twin Berettas, Jake hugged his back to the wall and inched closer to the corner.

"Eat this and die!" the man screamed while firing another barrage into the unseen attackers.

A powerfully-built man just less than six feet tall fired his assault rifle into a small pack of zombies staggering towards him. Several bullet-riddled corpses already lay at his feet, most with their faces obliterated and their blood flowing freely beneath the man's boots.

"What the hell?" Jake whispered as he took notice of the man's tactical vest, which bore the Umbrella logo on the back, a modified version with a pair of swords crossed over it. Come to think of it, he looked like a professional soldier with his tan cargo pants, black knee pads, combat boots, various ammunition pouches and forest green bandana on his head.

"_So this guy works for Umbrella, huh?" _he thought to himself, _"If they employ grunts like this, then who knows where this Birkin freak could be hiding at."_

Jake raised his dual Berettas and fired into the approaching zombies, dropping them at a much faster rate until they all fell over dead.

"Thanks man…" the soldier grunted and collapsed against the nearest wall, "…son of a bitch!" he spoke in a loud, boisterous tone that reminded him of a drill sergeant's bark.

The hitman finally took notice of the blood covering the man and the numerous bite wounds covering his arms, as well as the missing chunk of flesh from his cheek and the gash on his shoulder.

"I gotten bitten up by some of those freaks…" the man sighed as he noticed Jake staring at his wounds. The name stitched into his breast pocket revealed him as "Reso." There was no hope left for this man. In a few minutes he would become one of them.

"I'm sorry there wasn't more I could do for you," Jake bowed his head.

Reso laughed harshly at the comment, "Don't worry about me buddy…I never had a chance anyway…nor did my comrades. I doubt any of us are left alive anymore, not with the way those freaks can multiply."

"Your comrades?" Jake inquired.

The dying soldier ignored his question and reached into one of his compartments, producing two large clips, "Here…take these…"

He studied the larger clips and saw that they were for the man's assault rifle.

"They're for my rifle. I did have more, but I wasted them on those rotting bastards…I took out a whole shitload of them on the street before here…I tried to find shelter…and some way to reach my squad mates…" he trailed off, spitting out some blood. Reaching into his holster he pulled out a Sigpro SP2009 handgun and placed it to his temple.

"Just get out of here kid…live!"

The man trembled and a tear rolled down his cheek. His sorrowful expression quickly turned to a smile as he pulled the trigger.

"_This guy and his comrades?" _the hitman thought, _"More of those types in this city? Should make sense seeing as Umbrella started this mess. Maybe he was here as part of a 'cleanup crew' looking to silence everything that moves. I doubt those rats would want anybody to leave this city alive. They have an image to protect and I'm sure they wouldn't want anybody getting out and spreading the word of their supposed goings-on around here."_

Jake turned his attention to the man's discarded assault rifle, finding it to be a Colt M4A1 assault rifle commonly used by the military, which relied on 5.56mm NATO rounds and could be switched back and forth between manual and automatic firing modes.

For now he had to focus on moving forward and completing the objective that brought him here. If there were more of these soldiers remaining and they decided to get in his way, then they would end up just like those other zombies back there, dead for good.

Author's Note: And so concludes another chapter for this epic rewrite! To any of you who have closely followed the original, you may recognize some of the happenings in the bank as being similar to those in Santino's restaurant.

Also, to alleviate any anxieties Crow T Rob0t has regarding the title of this chapter, it does not refer to the "Left Behind" book series produced by all those hardcore Jesus freaks that right it. More so, it's in a way a veiled tribute to the Slipknot song of the same name, which kicks serious ass!

Until next time loyal viewers, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	13. Ch 12: Human Chess

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 12: Human Chess

Things had quieted down for the moment, but just minutes ago Jake had heard the hollow moans of the undead and the screams of still-living humans, mixing with the all too familiar sounds of automatic fire and explosions rocking the earth around him. Chances were they were probably soldiers just like that Reso man he had encountered back in the alley.

Their presence alone lingered strongly in the hitman's mind. He honestly didn't know why they were sent here and didn't know if they were here on a mission to silence survivors or what.

_"That guy told me to get out of here and live. I don't think he would have told me that had he been here to blow my brains out," _he thought to himself as he stepped onto MacLauren Avenue. Maybe they could have been there for some other reason.

As promised, the street was littered with the corpses of former townspeople, all of them dropped with headshots that looked like they were inflicted by a high-powered assault rifle. Spent casings littered the ground all around the corpses, definitely the handiwork of more than one individual.

Jake kept his newly-acquired rifle raised, ready to fight in case any of these other soldiers happened to be nearby. If they were, then chances were their nerves were probably shot and they would be ready to ventilate anything capable of moving that would be unfortunate enough to cross their path without second thought.

Just thinking of such possibilities had him looking upward towards the buildings and opened windows of surrounding apartment complexes, on guard for any snipers that could have been planted to guard against the numerous threats present. He took cover behind a smashed up pickup truck and listened for any sounds.

Once again, it was almost dead silent, aside from a few faraway moans and cawing of crows at a distance. It was this eeriness that willed him forth.

It was still in the early morning hours of the day, but the accompanying sunlight had done little to disguise the horrors around him, only making them grow in volume.

Blood was everywhere – the asphalt, storefronts, cars, streetlamps and a bus stop kiosk. There was no escaping the crimson sight and the coppery smell following it.

Jake came to the intersection of MacLauren and Sumac Street, where he found another cluster of dead bodies, again torn apart by high-powered weaponry that must have belonged to a group of soldiers. This group also had members missing heads and limbs, and the spent shotgun casings nearby that had to have carried out the deed.

A jeep had been flipped over and a blackened, still-smoking, pothole-sized crater nearby indicated some grenades may have been detonated, in addition to a bunch of charred limbs littering the area.

The sight of another dead body lying nearby suddenly caught his attention, an empty M4A1 at the man's side and the same Umbrella logo-adorned tactical vest. He couldn't tell exactly what had happened to the dead man as he lay facedown on the soiled concrete, a massive pool of blood almost surrounding the man's entire body.

Then again, noting all the blood and remembering all the mutilated corpses from back at the bank, he probably didn't want to either.

Pressing further down Sumac, Jake eventually found two more corpses bearing the modified Umbrella insignia.

Lying on the edge of a curb was a middle-aged man with short blond hair who wore a green military-issue jacket underneath his tactical vest, now a dark crimson shade. He had been flipped onto his side and his chest had been sliced open, leaving his dried internal organs dangling out. A river of blood had flowed into a nearby storm drain, now long since dried. There was only one culprit he could think of.

_"Those bugs," _he thought to himself as he took notice of a broken SPAS-12 lying near the man's dissected form. Turning the soldier's body onto its back, he began rummaging through the man's ammo pouches and turned up several unused 12-gauge shells. Like that Reso man from earlier, the dead soldier carried a SIG PRO handgun and he was able to pocket two additional clips for his Berettas.

Not too far away was the other soldier's body. This victim had been much younger, looking almost as if he were barely out of high school. He had short auburn hair with long bangs and a black headband wrapped around his forehead. Instead of a jacket similar to what the other man had worn, this guy wore a folded-up green short-sleeved shirt. A pair of cracked welder's goggles lay at his side and next to his body, a portable gas tank with an attached cutting torch, signaling this young man may have been an engineer with one of the Umbrella-controlled units.

An ugly gash was in the man's neck, but it was far too shredded to tell if it had been the result of a zombie tearing a chunk out, or if one of those bug creatures had gotten to him too.

_"Can't dwell over every single one of these deaths," _Jake told himself as he scavenged for any extra ammo, finding two more clips for his M4A1, in addition to another for one of his handguns.

Continuing further down the street, the hitman moved carefully around more smashed up vehicles and avoided any broken glass they had left behind. Along the way he continued to find more shot up bodies, including a few that appeared to have been mutilated by something more powerful than the kind of rifle he held. Whoever had slaughtered all of these zombies was probably close by.

Again he had to remind himself that he didn't know if these soldiers were on his side or not, a thought keeping his knuckles gripped white around his weapon. He carefully stalked along a line of cars until he heard a burst of static and came to an abrupt halt.

A police cruiser sat abandoned in front of an internet café, its windows smashed and its weapons taken. The unit's radio still crackled faintly with life and Jake was able to make out bits and pieces of the garbled transmission.

_"Hey…need help at the post office…more of those things…need help right away!"_

He didn't know what possessed him to, but the hitman found himself reaching in for the receiver and depressing the button.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he shouted into the receiver, letting up on the button to listen for any possible reply. Instead he heard a tortured cacophony of random noises, but swore he could almost make out a few screams in the background.

The loud ping and sparks of a bullet deflecting off of the car's metallic surface forced Jake to drop the receiver and scamper backward for cover. Two more wild shots were fired in his direction, one shattering the cruiser's windshield and the other striking one of the flashers.

"It's one of those soldiers! Get him!" a new voice called out, followed by more shots.

Jake flung himself across the hood of a convertible that had rear-ended the patrol car and quickly knelt down, readying his weapon for combat.

"Your buddies killed our buddies, now we kill you!" another raspy voice added and the boom of a shotgun followed. The blast struck the convertible's front end, loosening the hood and sending smoke billowing out from underneath.

_"Shit, they must think I'm with whoever that Reso guy came with," _the hitman thought as he crawled on his hands and knees behind the squad car and peeked his head up to get a view of his assailants.

There were four guys altogether, one armed with a revolver and another armed with a sawed-off shotgun. The two other guys carried melee weapons, one a wooden baseball bat and the other a crowbar. They were all dressed like typical hoodlums, each wearing a mask as well.

"C'mon out and fight ya' pansy!" shouted the shotgun-toting thug, a burly man in a brown leather jacket, torn jeans and black boots, a nylon hood covering his head.

"Yeah, what are you, chicken?" the revolver carrying ruffian added, making chicken noises in emphasis. This man was a little taller and wore a black hood with strange red and white markings on it.

_"I'll show you yahoos a 'chicken,' talking pretty tough when it's 4-on-1," _Jake thought as he steadied his aim and fired a three shot burst into the shotgun thug's chest, leaving him to writhe on the ground as he slowly bled out.

The two other thugs freaked out and took off running down a side alley, while the revolver-carrying goon fired wildly at him. He soon ran out of ammo and patted himself down for any spare ammo, only to find he had expended everything.

Wasting no time, the hitman shot him down with a round through the skull, dropping him with a loud thud that echoed in the otherwise desolate street.

"Losers," Jake spat in disgust, making his way over to the downed shotgunner. After a careful search through all the man's pockets, he came up with six additional shells and slipped them into his side pack.

He looked down the alley where the two remaining thugs had taken off through and just shook his head.

_"They'll get what's coming to them," _he thought, knowing they were too inadequately equipped to survive such a scenario. He wasn't going to even bother wasting his breath with them and moved on.

Once again he took to the side alleys, taking a detour through a building that had been under construction. Carefully maneuvering his way around stacks of unused bricks, tarpaulins, building supplies, and as there had been with seemingly everywhere else, the shot up corpses of a bunch of zombies, these ones dressed in construction gear.

Eventually, the hired gun brought himself to a complete stop as he listened for an all-too-familiar sound of torturous, labored moans, an entire army of them. Something was different this time; gunfire was mixed in with the moans.

_"Could it be?" _Jake asked himself as he forced himself back into the alley and listened for direction it was coming from. Both excited at the possibility of finding more survivors, yet remaining mindful of their possible true intentions, he moved at a controlled pace until he reached the end and again peeked out with his weapon ready.

An entire army of the undead marched in his direction, in pursuit of a small group of heavily-armed men dressed like the dead soldiers he had seen earlier. They all varied in ethnic backgrounds and physical appearances. There were nine of them altogether; most of them carrying M4A1's similar to what he had, some with scope and grenade launcher attachments. Another carried a SPAS-12 assault shotgun, one an M-249 S.A.W. (Squad Automatic Weapon) heavy machinegun, and another even lugging an M202A1 rocket launcher on his beefy frame.

The men ran as quickly as their feet could carry them, stopping on occasion to fire into the pursuing mob. Granted, their weapons had made a significant dent in the throng, tearing through the zombies like they were paper targets, but as it had been everywhere else he could recall seeing, there would always be two more adversaries to step in for every single one that had already fallen.

"For God's sake Daggett, lay down some goddamn cover fire!" one of the soldiers shouted to the heavy machine gunner, a man much larger than the others with a stone hard-looking face that looked like it belonged on Mt. Rushmore. He said nothing in reply and kept firing into the crowd, his high-velocity rounds tearing through the zombies as if they were being shoved into a blender.

"There's too many of these bloody freaks!" shouted another trooper with a thick Australian accent, wearing a vest overloaded with explosive devices.

"Just keep moving!" shouted a short, yet stalwartly-built man with a green beret atop his head, "We have to create enough space for a good shot!" he continued, his Russian accent more evident this time around.

"A good shot?" Jake asked as he scanned the passing troopers, again taking notice of the rocket launcher strapped to the back of a tall Caucasian man dressed similarly to the Russian.

"How many more rockets do we have, Schneider?" the Russian asked, whom the hitman assumed was probably the leader of this ragtag group.

"Just one sir!" the man called Schneider replied.

"Get it ready!" the leader ordered and then addressed the other men, "The rest of you, take cover immediately!"

Sinking down to one knee, Schneider hoisted the mighty weapon onto his broad shoulder and focused his sights on the approaching group. Seeing this, Jake retreated further back into the alley.

The hiss of an incendiary-loaded rocket permeated the deathly air, creating one massive explosion that soon morphed into an earth shaking chain reaction as many parked vehicles were swallowed up in the ensuing fireball.

Jake was literally knocked from his feet by the force of the blasts, covering his head as discarded steel pipes, buckets, and even nails and broken glass fell around and on top of him.

"Ah…shit!" he groaned aloud as a pail full of old jagged metal scraps fell and struck him in his upper back, forcing him to carefully shake things off and make sure he wouldn't cut himself on anything. Pushing himself back to his feet, he eventually made his way back into the alley and stepped onto the street where the soldiers had been, who had now since moved on.

A series of small fires still lingered as a result of the concurrent blasts, but otherwise much of the pavement was blackened, as were a few storefronts that had had their windows blown out. The empty rocket launcher had been abandoned, lightening the load for the weary soldiers. Charred corpses and limbs littered the ground, leaving only a few stragglers that had been at the back of the group. Their presence was still left something to be worried about and the hitman had no choice but to cautiously follow after the unit.

"_Cat and mouse wasn't exactly what I had in mind," _Jake thought as he followed after the men judging by what he had initially seen, also listening for the gunfire lingering from ahead. _"I'm ready for those G.I. Joe wannabes if they try anything funny."_

He came to another intersection where the street signs had been knocked over, but judging by the ventilated corpse of a man in a tattered green t-shirt, he assumed they had gone right, taking the fresh smell of gunpowder into consideration.

This time, the hitman was now moving at a faster pace, jogging down the middle of the war-torn street, deliberately avoiding the sidewalks as it would raise the risk of zombies or other monsters leaping out through the windows after him.

Surely enough, he soon heard moans and dragging footsteps, as well as looking over to see rotting figures beginning to press against the large plate glass windows of stores that hadn't been ransacked.

Then the demonic shrieks sounded, seemingly from all around him, something he definitely did not need to hear right now.

"Damn it!" Jake hissed as he observed another bug-like creature crawling along the side of a deserted aerobics studio, and then looked over to the opposite side where another hung upside down from a fire escape.

Knowing the beasts would only continue after him if he tried to run, the hitman stayed to fight, raising his M4A1 and firing a barrage into the monster clinging to the studio's exterior, riddling it with enough bullets to cause it to lose its grip and collapse onto the hood of a sedan below. The attack didn't kill the creature, but had severely weakened it and left it thrashing helplessly where it laid, the crumpled roof making it difficult to move. It would certainly die from blood loss after taking all those high-velocity rounds.

The other bug creature was almost on top of him as it sensed its "brother's" anguish, forcing the hitman to roll underneath a claw swipe aimed at his throat. Knocked onto his side, Jake still maintained a firm grip on his rifle and fired what remained of his current clip into the creature, obliterating its face with the final few rounds.

"Son of a bitch…" he gasped, ejecting the spent clip and struggling for a new one, only to be greeted by more hollow moans.

More zombies had begun marching after him with their arms outstretched, obviously attracted by the gunfire, almost a "dinner bell" to the undead as he thought of it.

As he pushed himself back to his feet, Jake noticed that what had started out as a few random zombies had already morphed into a small crowd at an alarming rate. Remembering his hand grenades, the hitman reached inside his coat and unclipped one from his bandolier. With a swift pull of the pin, he chucked the explosive into the crowd and pulled a 180 turn, sprinting down the street and not even bothering to look back and see what kind of effect it had as he heard the loud explosion behind him.

Rushing further down the street, another wave of zombies appeared, springing to life as the smell of fresh meat assailed their sense of smell. Noticing their numbers, Jake climbed onto a nearby utility truck and ran over its cargo bed to create some space between him and the attackers.

As he leapt down from the side, one of the zombies had managed to round the truck after him, only to be met with a rifle stock being driven into its neck, hard enough to snap it. Jake continued his run and blasted a few more zombies that had gotten dangerously close and kept moving until he spotted the Pawn-O-Matic pawn shop ahead, its shattered windows covered by bulletproof steel shutters.

"Better than nothing," the hitman told himself as he jogged over to the barred front door and yanked it open, surprised it wasn't locked.

Slamming the door shut behind him, the sound of automatic weapons cocking came from behind, freezing the hired gun in place.

"Hold it right there!" a youthful voice called out, "Drop your weapon and turn around slowly with your hands raised in the air!"

Jake cursed silently to himself and knowing he was outgunned, let the M4A1 clatter to the ground. Slowly turning himself around, he came face to face with three men all dressed alike aside from a few small differences, all clutching assault rifles similar to his, two of them with telescopic sights affixed to their weapons.

There was a tense silence that followed as he didn't know what kind of moves they would make next. Like he had done with many people during his stay, he found himself carefully observing their features.

In the center of the trio was a tall, lanky Caucasian individual around his height with short black hair covered by a bandana and an ugly scar running down one side of his face. The man's nametag identified him as "Seeker" and a patch on his shoulder identified him as an American. A telescopic sight affixed to his weapon suggested that he may be a tactical sniper.

At the far left of the group was a shorter, dark-skinned man with his black hair trimmed into a crewcut and had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses resting on his face. This man's nametag identified him as "Patrick" and his flag patch revealed him as being from Suriname.

The last man stood about six feet even and had short fiery red hair similar to Eric Sampson's, except this man's bangs were longer, which had been pushed back to reveal his emerald green-colored eyes. His name was listed as "Collins" and his flag patch revealed him as hailing from Ireland. He too had a scope attached to his rifle, perhaps another marksman as well.

"Alright," the lanky American said, revealing himself as the man who had spoken up before. He said nothing and instead carefully inspected his new arrival from head to toe, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Slightly turning his head in both directions toward his colleagues, he gave them an expression as if he were seeking their approval. When both men nodded he returned his attention to the hired gun.

"Are you hurt at all? Did any of those things out there bite or scratch you?" he said, keeping his gun locked firmly on the hitman.

"None at all," Jake replied, choosing his words carefully to avoid being transformed into Swiss cheese by their itchy trigger fingers. Before he could ask what was going on, another voice cut in.

"Seeker, what the hell is going on in there?" a familiar Russian-accented voice called out.

The same squad leader he saw from the street stepped into the room, flanked by the Schneider guy who had fired the rocket into that crowd of zombies, a SPAS-12 shotgun slung around the latter man's shoulder.

"Another survivor, sir," Seeker replied, the three men lowering their weapons as their superior approached the lone refugee.

"Alright, just what the hell is going on here and who the hell are you?" Jake asked staring closely at the leader of the group, his nametag reading "Victor."

"I'm terribly sorry comrade, as you can see the circumstances we are involved in has caused me to forget my manners," the Russian spoke before offering his hand, "Lieutenant Mikhail Victor, Delta Platoon leader, and we are the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service," he spoke motioning towards his three colleagues, who nodded in reply.

"I see you've already become acquainted with both Murphy Seeker and Shane Collins, two of our company's best marksmen, and Tyrell Patrick, our unit's N.B.C. advisor," Mikhail continued.

"Nuclear Biological Chemical," Tyrell spoke up, addressing his acronym.

"A biohazard countermeasure service," Jake asked, "so you guys work directly for the company then, huh?"

"Not exactly," Schneider spoke up, "we're just mercenaries. You know, the whole hired gun bit."

"We were sent here on a search and rescue mission for any civilians left behind after the leak spread into the city," Mikhail continued.

"For fifty-thousand dollars," the Irishman glumly added, "the things money will make you do," he chuckled bitterly.

"A leak huh?" Jake responded, "So Umbrella had a hand in what was going on in here?" he asked, playing dumb for his new acquaintances.

"Afraid so," Mikhail admitted with a heavy heart, feeling guilt for being associated with such a company.

"_So Umbrella is actually trying to 'save' some people?" _Jake thought sarcastically, _"Probably just some cleanup crew that would shoot you dead the second you got outside the city limits and bury you in a shallow grave."_

Another part of him wasn't as certain regarding that thought. These men seemed like alright enough guys and that Victor guy carried an air about him of being a battle-hardened leader who was firm, yet seemed to care about his men.

"Here, I believe this belongs to you," Schneider said as he picked up the M4A1 and handed it back to Jake, almost as if the man could sense his unease and wanted to do something to win his trust.

"It's a good thing you found us when you did," Mikhail spoke solemnly as he motioned for Jake and Schneider to both step away from the front door. "You're the first survivor we've happened across in quite a while."

"Those bastards have been massacring us left and right," Shane again spoke, thinking back to when the rest of his unit was overrun and many of his men were turned into breakfast for those zombies.

"I've ran into quite a few other people myself," Jake said as his thoughts drifted back to those he had run across, more recently being those who had escaped from the bank, "I honestly don't know what happened to any of them."

"For now we have to focus on making it out of this hellhole alive," Mikhail replied and led Jake into the back room, where sounds from within indicated the rest of the surviving soldiers had congregated there.

"Wait a minute," Murphy suddenly spoke up, "we never got your name pal!"

"Jake," the hitman replied reaching for the man's outstretched hand, "Jake Smith. I was passing through when everything went to shit," he explained as he also took the time to shake hands with Tyrell and Shane before entering the back room.

The rest of the men sat around doing various things. Seated on a ratty old couch with a card table pulled close to him was the behemoth Daggett, tweaking his heavy machinegun in between bites from a pack of military rations he was eating. He said nothing to everybody else, working diligently.

Gathered around the office desk were the three other men, one the Australian demolitions specialist, a thin-faced man with short brown hair, identified as "Giles" by his nametag.

Seated on a crate next to him and eating a ration was another Caucasian man with short auburn hair covered by a beret. A white armband prominently displaying a red cross indicated he was a medic, his kit resting near his feet along with an M4A1 that had a bayonet attached to the end. This man's name was "Bader" and a Union Jack patch on his shoulder showed he was a native of Great Britain.

The last man was of Hispanic descent, short, but with a muscular build, had his black hair cropped closely to his head with a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache. A Marine Corps-themed tattoo was on his upper left arm, telling he had been a Marine before his service with the U.B.C.S. An M4A1 with a M203 grenade launcher attached sat on his lap. Unlike the other members, he wore only a tan muscle shirt underneath his tactical vest, so his surname was not immediately known.

"Alright gentlemen, we've got a guest who will be tagging along with us," Mikhail spoke up, motioning to Jake, "Mr. Smith, I would like for you to meet what's left of our division." He then motioned towards Giles, "This is Damon Giles, demolitions specialist for the Alpha platoon."

"And a damned good one too," the Hispanic man spoke up, touching fists with the Aussie.

"I'd say 'welcome to the party,' but it's obviously not the kind of welcoming committee you had in mind," Giles addressed the hitman before shaking his hand.

"Gavin Bader, Echo team's medic," Mikhail motioned towards the Brit, who stepped up to receive Jake's handshake.

"Probably all that's left of Echo team, unless you count Renovsky and that asshole Campbell, but I don't know what happened to either one of them after touchdown," the medic somberly explained.

"Over there is Hans Daggett, Bravo team's heavy machine gunner," the German behemoth only offered a brief wave before returning his attention to his mighty weapon.

"And lastly we have Arturo Chavez, Delta team's scout," the squad leader said motioning towards the Hispanic member, who stood up to shake Jake's hand.

"Not exactly the ideal circumstances to meet under," Chavez replied, "jack shit we can do about it though."

"Might as well do what you can to make yourself comfortable," Mikhail said before returning to the front room.

"Sure thing," Jake said before he collapsed into a nearby folding chair and sighed deeply, letting the rifle rest at his side. He shut his eyes and stretched his aching limbs, only to open them when he felt something nudging his shoulder. Looking over, he found Bader shoving a ration pack towards him.

"You look famished sir. Here, you should probably have one of these," the medic spoke in his crisp brogue, "I'll warn you though, it's not exactly a five star meal nor even the good old home cooking you're probably accustomed to, so you'll have to make due with what you can get."

"As long as it's not that 'mystery meat' they used to serve back in high school, then it's all good," Jake chuckled, a rare attempt at humor on his part.

"I'd ask for your story, but I'd assume you're probably in the same boat as the rest of us," Giles said.

"You don't even know the half of it," the hitman replied, partially garbled by the food still in his mouth. "In between all those zombies, a couple of red-skinned tongue freaks and some mutant bugs that have more blades than a Veg-O-Matic, I'd say I've seen enough that's probably going to leave me locked away in a nut house for the rest of my life after this is all said and done."

"B.O.W.'s," Tyrell called out from the doorway.

"B.O.W.'s?" Jake asked, staring suspiciously towards the bespectacled man.

"Bio-Organic Weapons," Schneider explained, "They're basically living organisms that have been mutated for use as weapons."

"Created by Umbrella," Tyrell finished.

"Hmm, your boss out there said something about a leak; I take it that's connected to those things too, huh?" Jake asked, looking over the others for their reactions.

"Yep, things they don't want the public knowing about, hence why we've been sent in to help clean this whole mess up," Arturo explained.

"Since you're here with us now I guess there's no point in hiding anything else from you," Giles began to speak, "I know you're probably familiar with Umbrella's public face, being that of the world's largest pharmaceutical company and all that other jazz, but deep down they're pretty much responsible for this whole mess."

"Really," Jake asked, finally starting to make some sense of the whole situation, "I take it this isn't the only operation you guys have been on regarding this matter?"

"Nope," a new voice cut in from the back, Daggett speaking up for the first time, "We've been on operations like this all over the world for those greedy bastards. We're just their pawns for sweeping all this shit under the rug. They never tell us the whole story," his tone as harsh and as grating as that of sandpaper being dragged across a rock.

"We're considered expendable to them," Bader grumbled bitterly, "they always figure any secrets they tell us will die with us on the battlefield."

"Well you seem to have been doing well enough so far," Jake complimented as he tossed his empty wrapper to the side.

"I could say the same thing about you," Arturo said eying up the hitman's rifle, "That's some pretty heavy looking hardware you're packing there for a civvie."

"Heh, I'm no ordinary civvie buddy," Jake spoke, deciding to avoid mentioning the part of his cover story about him being an off-duty Marine. Unlike him, Chavez appeared to be the real deal and could easily see through him if things went too in depth. "I've been fighting my way through scores of those rotting freaks and God knows what else for the past two days and I'm still around to talk shit about it, aren't I?"

"That does look like one of our own though," the scout replied, closely examining the M4A1 and comparing it to his own.

"I got it from some Reso guy," the hitman explained.

"What?" Schneider suddenly gasped from his post near the break room's entrance, "You mean those things got Hank 'the Tank?' That guy's a fucking legend in our ranks!" The other U.B.C.S. operatives shared a similar look of disbelief at this revelation.

"He went down fighting," Jake replied, "he wanted me to have it and told me to get out of here and live before he passed on."

"Man…that fucking sucks," was all Chavez could say.

"I also got jumped by some clowns in masks on my way over here. The fuckers tried to shoot me. They said something about thinking I was a soldier and something about their buddies being killed. They must have thought I was one of you guys," Jake explained.

"We know what you're talking about," Bader snorted, "Bloody losers."

"A bunch of thugs tried jumping Seeker and Collins for their guns. Needless to say, we had to show them some 'rough justice,'" Schneider further explained, "They were more worried about scoring five figure discounts rather than surviving this mess. A few of them looked to already be infected too, judging by some scratches we saw on them."

"Dumbasses," the hired gun scoffed.

"Shit! We've got company!" Murphy shouted from the front room, "Hey Smith, I think you have a fan club that just followed you here."

The soldiers didn't need to be told twice what was happening and rose to their feet, gathering all their weapons. Mikhail rushed through the door followed closely by the three other mercs.

"Alright men, we have to move out now!" he barked loudly and looked around at the others, "Daggett and Chavez, I want both of you on point. Anything in front of us that doesn't look human, don't bother thinking twice about putting a bullet in its skull!"

The two men nodded and took a position at the back door, nodding to each other before Daggett kicked the door open and pushed his way through. Right away the ear-splitting rattle of his S.A.W. echoed from the back alley, signaling they may have been surrounded.

From his position at the back of the group, Jake couldn't make out most of the wall of undead impeding their progress, nor could most of the others. They were intent to stick to the back and let their colleagues clear out most of the threat for them.

"Daggett, hold up!" Chavez shouted over the roar of the man's heavy machinegun. Pumping the grenade launcher attached to his rifle, the scout fired an explosive shell that sent bloody limbs flying all over and tons of blood covering the surrounding walls. "Alright, let's move!"

The group had forced its way onto another street, all of the soldiers now opening fire as zombies stood all around them.

Jake raised his rifle and fired into an approaching cluster, dropping three zombies with headshots that splattered their brains onto those behind them. An elderly man who had been severely hunched over and a child both survived the initial onslaught thanks to their short statures, but would be quickly cut down as they attempted to step over the remnants of their fellow dead.

"Keep coming you freaks," Jake whispered as he fired into anything that approached him, keeping his shots as careful and concise as possible.

"Reload!" one of the soldiers shouted next to him. He noticed that it was Schneider, who quickly sunk down to a knee and grabbed some fresh shells off of the straps on his vest.

"I'm on it!" Bader replied, taking a protective position in front of his colleague. He fired into another approaching swarm of undead, cutting them down much faster thanks to Jake's assistance. One of the zombies had somehow managed to survive several high-powered shots to the chest, only to run straight into the medic's bayonet with a sick tearing noise. Grunting with exertion, he forced the blade through the monster's throat until its brain stem was severed.

"There's too many of these freaks Lieutenant, we can't afford to just sit around like this. We have to move sir!" Giles shouted as he unclipped a grenade from his vest and called out to his teammates.

"Fire in the hole!!!" and with those words, he chucked the explosive into a nearby alley where most of the zombies had come piling out of. His teammates scattered as a wave of fire shot out from the enclosed space, along with more body parts.

"Keep moving men!" Mikhail shouted. He didn't have time to reach for his PDA, which would have told him how far away they were from the designated rendezvous point. Instead, he would have to keep shooting his way through until they could find another safe place to take cover. His M4A1 had just run out of ammo, but there were too many zombies nearby for him to safely reload, forcing him to withdraw a magnum revolver of the same make as Jake's.

Murphy and Shane moved with their backs to each other, dropping whatever they could with expertly placed shots through their adversaries' craniums.

"The more of you bastards that keep coming, the more to give us some much needed target practice!" the Irishman shouted as he took down a woman in a meter maid's uniform. He was about to take another shot when he spotted another one of those bug creatures Jake claimed to have encountered.

"Oh shit! Boss, we've got another B.O.W. in sight!" Shane shouted and fired at the creature, which leapt to avoid the bullet with a grace he almost didn't expect.

Jake looked up and growled angrily as another bug-like monster made its presence known. He was going to open fire, but felt his weapon held down and turned to see Tyrell urging him forth.

"Come on, we have to get moving!" the Surinamese operative shouted over the moans and gunfire as the other operatives were quickly sprinting down the street and rounding a corner.

The two men passed Chavez, who had by now taken notice of the bug creature as well and fired an explosive round towards the building it had been scaling, creating an explosion of flame and rubble which he hoped either killed or crippled the beast.

"Crap, there's more!" the hitman heard Schneider call out.

Outside the Hydro Clean Laundromat were more of those bugs, leaving the others to fire desperately as they realized they were trapped.

"Somebody cover me, goddamn it!" Daggett shouted as he sprayed two of the bugs with the mighty M-249.

"Gotcha' covered!" Schneider shouted as he fired round after round into the creatures that had threatened to overwhelm his colleague, nearly expending most of his ammo in the process.

"We must've stumbled across their 'nest' or something!" Murphy shouted next to Bader and Shane as both men struggled with an emerging beast.

"Save your wisecracks for later!" Tyrell cut in and raised his weapon to fire.

"Look out!" Giles shouted.

It was too late as a brown mass leapt down and tackled the advisor to the ground, also knocking down Collins and inadvertently slicing the Aussie across his upper leg with one of its many claws.

Jake had just finished dropping another one of those bugs when he turned to see another one of those "brain suckers" that had killed Sonny suddenly appear, looking like it was about to do the same to Tyrell.

Murphy took notice and tried to fire, but his rifle clicked empty and he threw it to the ground, withdrawing an STI Eagle 6.0 handgun with a scope attached. Wasting no time, he appeared to score several vital shots on the mutant bug as it prepared to jab the same tube-like mandible into the man's neck. The monster's grip was eventually loosened and Tyrell was finally able to shake his attacker off.

"I'm out!" Daggett shouted as his S.A.W. clicked dry, only to hear a loud slicing noise and then feel a torrent of fresh blood spray onto him.

Turning to his left, he found Schneider standing there deathly still. Blood spilled down his chest from a fresh wound across his throat. A sickening snap followed and the shotgunner's head fell to the side, the rest of his body soon following.

"Damn you!!!" Mikhail hollered and unloaded the rest of his clip into the perpetrator's bony carapace, knocking it flat onto its back. With an unmatched aggression, the Russian squad leader ran over and proceeded to kick the crippled beast repeatedly until its skull was split in half and its brain matter covered his pants.

"Oh shit, we've gotta stop the L.T. before he gets himself killed!" Chavez shouted to the others, while Bader tended to the wounded Giles. He had served firsthand underneath the veteran operative on several missions in the past and knew how hard he took it whenever a man perished under his watch.

A gentle soul away from the battlefield, when locked in the heat of battle, Mikhail fought with the intensity of a tiger, practically on fire with the desire to protect his men and the rage of their deaths would overcome him, turning him into a truly destructive force. He had nearly paid with his life on more than one occasion because of this.

Murphy, Shane, Arturo and Tyrell rushed to their leader's aid, gunning down two more bugs that had made their presence felt, while Jake struggled to protect Bader as he tended to Giles' leg wound. Daggett had been left without time to reload his heavy machinegun and instead fought to break down the laundromat's front door.

For now the hitman focused his energy on protecting the machine gunner, taking down another one of those bugs while it was in midair. Hollow moans soon followed and he looked over to see that the zombies from earlier were already catching up.

"They're catching up!" Jake shouted to Daggett, who said nothing in reply and continued hammering away on the door until it finally splintered open.

"Tell the others to get their asses in here!" he shouted before disappearing inside.

"Quick, get inside!" the hitman shouted over to Bader and ran over to help him get Giles inside the building.

The other operatives, meanwhile, pleaded vainly for their leader to pull back, but Mikhail would have none of it and was determined to kill as many of these creatures as possible.

"C'mon boss, we have to get moving!" Chavez pleaded as he had now taken notice of the laundromat's front door being forced open.

"Fire!!!" was the Russian's only reply, pulling out a Benelli shotgun Jake had previously failed to recognize, shooting up another bug crawling out of its shadowy corner.

"There's too many of them! We have to go!" Tyrell shouted, retreating towards the opened building. He began shouting something, but the gunfire made it impossible for the others to hear what he was saying.

Jake suddenly appeared behind the soldiers and grabbed onto one of Mikhail's arms, while Murphy, Collins and Chavez fought to drag the muscular man backward. Despite his protests, they continued and nearly lifted him off his feet as they made their way inside.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Perhaps these men weren't as much of a pushover as expected," _a lone operative thought to himself as he observed the battle beneath him through cold blue eyes. _"Then again, they sent in the more seasoned operatives this time around," _he continued as he ran a gloved hand through his short snow white hair.

The man had a laptop computer set up near a window that looked down upon the war-torn street below. A webcam was attached to the top of the screen and a special directional microphone was set up on the opened window's ledge, recording everything that had taken place below.

He watched impassively as several of his fellow operatives fought for their lives below outside the Hydro Clean Laundromat against some creatures he had once heard a researcher refer to as a "Drain Deimos," which were the accidental result of fleas feasting on the flesh of animals infected by the T-Virus.

There had been nine soldiers altogether, led by his own commanding officer Mikhail Victor. The group had now been whittled down to eight as one of the mutants decapitated the former U.S. Marine Daryl Schneider.

With his fingers practically flying across the keyboard, he was already uploading the freshly deceased U.B.C.S. operative's "combat data" into his hard drive. Recognizing the faces of all the other known operatives, he opened small windows that displayed each of their own individual statistics. Thanks to his lengthy tenure with the organization, he knew every single operative down there that had been fighting for their own lives.

"_It truly is a shame," _the man thought as he stared at Schneider's headless corpse, _"He was a good soldier, albeit a little reckless and impulsive." _However, he wouldn't sit around and mourn the man's loss; it was just business as usual to him.

"_These men are just merely pawns in a greater game."_

As far as the other U.B.C.S. members knew, they had been sent into Raccoon City on a rescue mission. In reality, they were being used as nothing more than guinea pigs for collecting combat data against the company's B.O.W.'s in battle. The man recording the battle was one of the supervisors sent into to oversee the operation, "Operation: Watchdog" as his superiors from Monitor called it.

"These creatures appear to have been created by sheer accident," the operative finally spoke aloud in a thick Russian accent, "they almost resemble the Chimeras developed back at the Spencer Estate in every aspect, both physically and instinctively. What I know from previous interactions with our research team in Paris, these Drain Deimos creatures as they call them, are born from fleas, not mosquitoes."

He then recalled what he had seen happen to an operative named Jafar Hassan as he watched him battle one of the creatures from the shadows, only to fall before its awesome might. "These creatures appear to favor cerebrospinal fluid, unlike most of the other B.O.W. creatures, which primarily feast on blood."

Zooming the camera in on the carcass of a brown creature which had tried to feast on his fellow supervisor Tyrell Patrick, he made another vocal note. "The Drain Deimos also possesses a close 'relative' known appropriately as the "Brain Sucker," which appears to hunger for the brains of their victims. Unlike its relative, the Brain Sucker also possesses the ability to emit poisonous gases for defensive purposes."

The camera then focused on the rest of the battle scene, where the group of men managed to bring down a creature using a barrage of automatic fire.

"As you can see, in spite of their weakly-looking exoskeletons, the creature appears to be perfectly capable of withstanding certain amounts of heavy automatic fire. However, they are easily susceptible to artillery fire and head shots are instant killers, as is the case with most specimens," he remarked as he observed more than one creature being torn to shreds by the M-249 S.A.W. of Hans Daggett, a former operative in Germany's GSG-9 counterterrorism unit.

He then began to take in the details of all the other operatives present, remembering information from their dossiers with computer-like accuracy.

Lying wounded against the laundromat was Damon Giles, a demolitions specialist who had once served in the Royal Western Australia Regiment. Tending to him was medic Gavin Bader, a former member of the United Kingdom's elite Special Air Service.

Fighting alongside Lt. Victor and Patrick were former I.R.A. member Shane Collins, former U.S.M.C. sniper Murphy Seeker and Desert Storm veteran Arturo Chavez. With them was another man, a civilian clad completely in black, armed with a Colt M4A1 that had been one of the regiment's trademark weapons.

He had no idea who this person was, but the man had drawn his interest with the way he had handled himself pretty well for being a "civilian." It was almost as if he fought with the skill and tenacity of a hardened soldier, much like himself.

"_This man, he handles a high-performance assault rifle with the efficiency of someone who has undergone basic training and operates with the strategy of a practiced fighter. Whoever he is, he's no ordinary civilian, a wolf in sheep's clothing if you may call him that," _the supervisor thought as he typed some special notes regarding the man's excellent combat skills, _"he must be a soldier."_

Once again, he zoomed the camera in on the mysterious man, "Smile for the camera."

Snapping a picture, it was quickly uploaded into his laptop and he e-mailed it to his superiors, adding a message telling them to search all national military and criminal databases for any information regarding this man's identity.

"_Whoever he is, I will have to monitor him closely and make sure he doesn't learn more than he is allowed. Being around Victor and the others, he may already know things he's not supposed to and shouldn't be allowed to escape this city alive," _the supervisor thought, eying a PSG-1 semi-automatic sniper rifle resting against the wall next to the window.

"_Sgt. Ginovaef, are you there? Come in!" _a voice shouted through the man's earpiece, distracting him from his thoughts.

The supervisor harrumphed and placed a finger to the piece, "Ginovaef here, what's the situation report Patrick?"

"_We're getting the hell out of here, there are more carriers approaching. You'd best seek shelter immediately wherever you are!" _the N.B.C. advisor reported, completely unaware that his colleague was watching him from above.

"Do not worry comrade, I am safe. Just worry about saving yourselves," the Russian responded, stifling a chuckle as he watched the man retreat.

"_Alright, just watch your back Nicholai," _and the transmission was terminated.

Sgt. Nicholai Ginovaef watched his fellow supervisor disappear inside the building. This man too was important for his own ends and he would have to find him before he left, knowing the man had probably collected plenty of important information himself.

"_That will have to wait until later," _the Russian thought as he watched an entire army of viral carriers converging upon the group, the three other operatives and the civilian fighting to drag Mikhail away as he bitterly resisted.

Knowing the battle was over for now; Nicholai closed his laptop and took one last look as Mikhail's muscular figure was dragged into the building.

"You always were a fool Victor," he scoffed, "becoming too closely attached to those test subjects like they were your family. Indeed they are talented operatives, but in the end they serve their purpose and that is that."

Again, they were just pawns to the cool sergeant. Being an aficionado of chess, he tended to think of every battle as one big game.

"_Like the saying goes: in chess the pawns always go first. It's just a fact of battle."_

Collecting his rifle and stepping away from the window, the supervisor's attention was diverted to the corner of the room, where the body of fellow U.B.C.S. operative Jacques Delacroix rested, a bullet hole through his face.

Like Nicholai, Corporal Delacroix had been appointed to serve as a supervisor for this mission. When he found the Frenchman, he had already been transformed thanks to a deep slash on his right forearm.

In the apartment's living room was the body of the likely perpetrator.

It was of a carrier in an advanced stage, more commonly referred to as a "Crimson Head" due to the color of its skin when in this state. They were twice as dangerous as the early carriers, their fingers and toes developing into sharp claws and their muscle mass increasing dramatically, and its level of aggression increasing with it.

According to a rumor he had heard, if left active, there was a possibility it could transform into a Re3, or "Lickers" as they had been nicknamed by the staff.

Thinking of his fellow supervisor made Nicholai reach into one of the compartments on his jacket and he pulled out the very flash drive that had once resided within Cpl. Delacroix's lost laptop.

"_You're going to help make me a rich man Jacques, perhaps you weren't as worthless as you looked," _he coldly smirked to the dead man and then noticed a piece of paper lying next to his body. Picking it up, the supervisor read it quietly to himself:

_Mission Requirements: Bravo 16_

_Obtain and secure sample of all the information pertaining to this case. Observe and record combat data on the U.B.C.S._

_Destroy all the evidence including the including the medical facility that has the medical treatment data._

_Check the guinea pig's ability to accomplish the mission._

_Once your mission is complete, evacuate the area. Remember that you must not help anyone who is not a supervisor, nor bring anything back that might be traced to where it belongs._

"And so I will," Nicholai said aloud, pulling out a gold-plated lighter and burning the incriminating document.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ack…be careful!" Giles cried as Bader tightened the bandage around his leg.

"Well hold bloody still then!" the Brit grunted defensively as he leapt to avoid an involuntary twitch from the demolitions specialist's bloodied leg. So far all he could do was apply an antiseptic and spray some of the company's first-aid spray on his leg before applying a bandage.

After smashing their way through the laundromat, the group had made its way into Buster's Auto Repair Garage, where they had stopped for another breather. It was another tense respite; one which had drawn several protests from soldiers who feared the bugs would be nipping at their heels, but for now had thankfully not been the case.

Jake stood near the front door with his weapon drawn, carefully scanning the area for potential threats. Collins would eventually join him and train his weapon on the opposite side.

"So…heck of a visit, eh?" the Irishman asked in his thick burr.

"You can say that again," Jake replied, "how are you holding up?"

The sniper appeared to be perfectly fine in a physical sense, but the hitman was more concerned for his mental well-being, imagining that these soldiers had probably already endured much of the same hideous creations as he had.

"Couldn't be better," Collins responded, only to lock eyes with the American. He was immediately silenced as he could feel the man's stare piercing through his soul, telling him that he knew deep down he was lying. "Alright, I'll admit maybe I'm a little scared, then again, who wouldn't be at a time like this with all those freaks running around outside. Who knows what else we could encounter in this place."

"I know we're you're coming from," Jake replied, watching many go to pieces around him. It was almost a surprise even to him that he was able to remain as calm and collected as he had with everything that occurred around him. He had always seemed unnaturally hardened to his colleagues even before this mission. Perhaps the horrors of his past had desensitized him to much of what happened, regardless of the circumstances.

_"Sometimes I wonder if I'm even still human," _he thought to himself as he turned to face the other operatives.

Daggett had finally reloaded his heavy machinegun and was again carefully checking it over for any possible malfunctions. Bader still tended to Giles, who gritted his teeth forcefully as waves of pain still shot through his body. The remaining operatives had gathered around a table, where Mikhail, who had calmed down considerably by now, laid out a laminated map and was carefully addressing any possible escape routes, muttering something about a clock tower as he did so.

A loud moan suddenly caught both Jake and Shane's attention and together they stepped outside.

With the U.B.C.S. sniper leading the way, he raised a hand and motioned for the hired gun to remain silent and listened for the dragging footsteps that followed.

Staggering into view from around the corner was a woman in a bloody nightgown, her once thick brunette hair falling out in clumps as she staggered forth.

Collins quickly raised his rifle and put the woman down with a single shot through her already missing left eye. Before he could declare the threat neutralized, more footsteps sounded and another zombie emerged from around the building's corner, followed by another and another and so forth.

"Boss, they're back!" the Irishman called out before opening fire, "We'd better get moving!"

Mikhail cursed silently and looked around to his troopers, "Alright men, pack everything up. We are moving out!"

Jake waited for Chavez and Murphy to make their way outside, before making his way back into the shop, where Bader was struggling to haul the injured Giles back to his feet.

"Let me take him, just help the others!" the hitman ordered as he wrapped the Aussie's arm around his shoulders and lifted him up, giving him space to hobble on his one good foot.

The two men made their way back outside, where the undead army was already growing at an alarming rate. Chavez and Daggett again covered the rear flank, cutting into the crowd with their powerful weapons.

"Alright come on, let's go!" Mikhail ordered as he withdrew another hand grenade and tossed it into the approaching horde.

Jake moved as quickly as he could, trying to block out the wounded man's agonizing shrieks that accompanied every step he took, as well as the deafening shots fired so dangerously close to his head.

"Please…leave me…" Giles pleaded as the hitman dragged him forth.

"No, we're not going to leave you behind!" Murphy shouted back as he had placed the man's arm around his free shoulder, while he fired at pursuers with his free hand.

"You have to!" the demo man whined, tears streaming down his face, "I'll just slow you down if you keep dragging me along!"

"There's gotta be someplace safe we can get you to," Jake replied.

"Bullshit!" the Aussie cut him off, "No place is safe in this hellhole! You have to keep moving and you're all going to die if I keep slowing you down!"

Jake looked sympathetically over to Murphy, a heart-wrenched expression on his features. No doubt the man had lost of lot of friends during his stay in Raccoon and it looked like his Australian friend would become the latest. He recalled how the man had been slashed by one of those bug creatures and he wondered if he was already infected with whatever was transforming those townspeople.

"Why should you care about me anyway?" Giles asked the hitman directly, "I'm just the scum of society, we all are!" he said looking over to Murphy.

"This entire unit is made up of exiled soldiers, war criminals and even former terrorists!" he further explained, "Fuck, Collins is former fucking I.R.A., Patrick sold arms on the black market, Murphy killed a bunch of gang members that supposedly killed his brother! Hell, even honorable Lt. Victor was involved in illegal race liberation wars!"

"And what's your story?" Jake asked the wounded man, by now it was just him carrying the man as Murphy dedicated his full energy to battling their pursuers.

"I killed my own commanding officer…only after he raped an innocent woman…nobody believed me in the end," Giles explained as he pulled off his demolitions kit and slung it around the hitman's neck. "Please…let me at least die trying to have saved my comrades."

"Don't let him do it Jake!" Murphy shouted, only to have a dagger tossed in his direction by the determined Aussie, nearly nicking his left ear. Pushing himself away from the hitman, Giles rushed head on towards the approaching mass and pulled out a hand grenade.

Most of the other platoon members had taken notice of Giles' sacrificial action, but were too late as he had already pulled the pin. Seconds later, their friend disappeared in a brilliant flash of light, taking several zombies with him.

"No! Damn it no!" Murphy screamed, having to be held back by Collins and Chavez.

Another series of screams, followed by rampant gunfire from the alley ahead distracted Jake and he quickly ran over to see what was happening.

Mikhail and Tyrell both fired away madly at two zombies rushing madly in their direction, moving at a pace much faster than any ordinary zombie he had ever seen. These zombies didn't even look like regular zombies to begin with thanks to their crimson-colored skin and elongated fingernails, no claws!

Bader was doubled over behind them, clutching his bloody left forearm. There was also a tear in the fabric over his shoulder, suggesting an additional attack. Two more of those crimson-skinned zombies lay shot up on the ground before him.

"Oh god Bader, not you too!" Collins shouted as he rushed over to the wounded medic, followed closely by Daggett.

"Those bloody sods fucking slashed me!" the Brit rasped, motioning towards the new kind of zombies as he removed his hand to reveal the jagged slash marks on his forearm.

"Not again…" Murphy droned looking down upon the fallen man, "…this isn't fucking happening!"

"Pull it together Murphy!" Chavez shouted, grabbing his colleague and proceeding to shake him violently, "You have to fucking pull it together for the sake of everybody else!"

By now, Mikhail and Tyrell had successfully eliminated the enhanced zombies and turned to face their fallen subordinate.

"How bad is it Bader?" the lieutenant asked kneeling down next to the wounded man.

"Pretty fucking bad," the medic spouted, "I think I'm infected…"

"Infected…" Jake whispered, his suspicions seemingly confirmed. _"So a virus really has been the cause of all this madness."_

Mikhail cursed bitterly and looked to the others, who could sense their colleague's impending doom. He stared down upon the wounded man, who stared back with one eye open, his face contorted into a dour grimace.

"I don't know boss…I think I'm a goner…" Bader sighed heavily in bitter defeat. He then turned to address the others, who all stood silently in disbelief. Jake could tell by the look in his eyes that he was about to say something he was going to regret.

"I've gotta get away from here…I'm nothing but a danger to all of you..." the medic said pushing himself back to his feet and staggering backwards.

"No way man, you can't be serious!" Murphy spoke up, "We just lost Giles man, we can't afford to lose another one of our own!"

"It's not your fault," Bader said waving off his American friend, "I got careless…stupid fucking me…" he growled and delivered a hard kick to one of the crimson-skinned corpses.

"What about the antibody?" Mikhail suddenly asked, "You should've taken one before this mission."

"Antibody?" the hitman asked, completely ignored as the two soldiers chatted amongst themselves.

"With the way those things have been popping up, hah!" Bader scoffed throwing his hands into the air in defeat. "Doubt it would work."

The vicious bark of Daggett's heavy machinegun startled the group out of their interlude and they turned to see what remained of the zombie army catching up to them.

"We'll have to continue this discussion later," Mikhail shouted, grabbing Bader by his good shoulder and shouting for everybody to follow him.

The group made its way into the adjoining street, which for now appeared to be void of any threats. They did however; take notice of abandoned van that was close enough to the alley entrance and Jake, Chavez and Daggett would push it in the way to hopefully slow their enemies' progression.

"Look I'm serious Lieutenant, I have to get away from all of you before I become like them," the medic again pleaded.

It was a serious option for the squad leader to consider, and he looked worriedly towards the Brit.

"If you want, I can end it for you right now," Tyrell said, withdrawing his Sigpro SP2009 sidearm, "Save you from coming back as one of those things."

The Surinamese operative quickly received a threatening glare from Mikhail, who had to be halted by Bader himself.

"Nah, I'd rather die fighting than take the coward's way out," the medic explained and removed his medical kit, forcing it into his close friend Shane's hands. "You'll need this more than I do now."

"Are you sure you want to do this, comrade?" Mikhail again asked, praying that his subordinate would say no and hopefully try to escape with the rest of them, but apparently, he was more than willing to fight until the end, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

"Damn right I do…" Gavin Bader proclaimed and turned to walk away down the street.

Before he could reach the street's intersection he turned to face his brothers in arms one more time, looking long and quietly towards them before speaking up.

"It was a pleasure to have served alongside all of you," he said with a proud salute, "now all of you blokes just get the hell out of here and live. You come looking for me and I'll shoot you dead myself!" he ordered, echoing a sentiment similar to Reso's before he pulled the trigger on himself. He then disappeared like a ghost in the night.

"Come on, let's just keep moving," Mikhail ordered as automatic fire rang out behind them.

The survivors pressed forth down the street and Jake marched in sync, knowing it wouldn't be very wise to try saying anything right now, even as a series of explosions came from behind. None of the men made the slightest flinch, knowing full well what had already happened.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gavin Bader staggered down another deserted street, quite some time after he had parted ways with his friends.

He was now covered from head to toe with the already congealed blood of his enemies, mixed with some of his own, thanks to a series of fresh wounds inflicted by the carriers.

Apparently the virus he and his colleagues had been warned about progressed at a much faster rate than expected, as he could already feel himself severely weakening and his life slowly slipping away with every breath he took. His vision blurred and the world began to spin around him, forcing him to brace himself against a nearby car for support.

For once he was beginning to think that maybe staying behind to kill more of those things wasn't the best idea after all. He looked down to his rifle, which was completely covered in blood thanks to his attached bayonet, and all of his ammo had been expended on top of it. Faced with another large group of assailants, he had removed his bandolier of grenades and chucked all of them after removing one of the pins, resulting in a chain reaction of explosions. Any survivors were quickly hacked up by his blade.

Now here he was, left impotent by a virus coursing through his system, meaning anything could jump him at any time. So weak the medic was, he dropped his empty rifle and overcome by a wave of nausea, vomited on the ground before him. It stunk badly and it hissed as if it was acid, watching some of the aforementioned bile bubbling on his exposed skin, yet he felt nothing.

Feeling defeated, the Brit opened his mouth to curse, yet couldn't find the strength and slumped against the same car. All he could do now was respire, his normal breathing pattern already slowing down dramatically.

So caught up was he in his own body's degeneration, he almost completely forgot about the bullet kept hidden in his breast pocket, something all U.B.C.S. operatives were instructed to carry upon them if they were ever bitten or scratched by any infected creatures, knowing the virus would soon spread to them as well.

He wanted to reach for it, but he was too weak, unable to even reach up and scratch his own skin, which felt like it was on fire and screamed angrily for him.

"Private Bader," a Russian-accented voice suddenly called out from above, one which he recognized right away.

Using all the strength he could muster, he tilted his head upward to find Sgt. Nicholai Ginovaef standing before him, in his usual dispassionate temperament as always. He was renowned for being somewhat of an "iceman" within company ranks, almost as if nothing ever frightened him at all. It was a trait that earned him the respect of company superiors, but the suspicion of everybody else.

"Nicholai…" was all Bader could mutter before choking and coughing up blood.

"I'm sorry, but there is nothing more I can do for you," the sergeant calmly stated as he reached for his gun and trained it on the younger man's forehead.

The dying medic could only stare helplessly as the trigger was pulled.

BANG!!!

Nicholai watched silently as Gavin Bader's corpse slumped over to the side, freed from the possibility of becoming a carrier, or one of the "living dead" as the lesser operatives collectively referred to them as.

"_That's all he would be destined for," _the supervisor thought as he inspected the man's fresh corpse from a distance. It was safe to assume the medic had used up all of his ammo, having heard all that automatic fire in the distance.

He was also reluctant to touch the man, noting all the blood covering him. Being exposed to the T-Virus was the absolute last thing he wanted, especially when he still had so much to gain.

Just as important as his own survival, was that of the data he had already amassed, plus the flash drive found on Delacroix would ensure an extra bonus. He hugged the bag at his side which housed his laptop and then thought of the other supervisors still running around.

"_Yes, there's six more of those guys running around," _he reminded himself, _"Patrick was running around with that one group," _as he remembered the men fighting for their lives.

There was more data to be captured, and he knew what his supervisors were expecting.

"_Better catch up to them."_

Author's Note: There it is folks, the latest installment of "Reborn!" To any of their fans, yes I have included the Crimson Head zombies as well, and on a whim too. Until then, hope you all had a happy Memorial Day weekend! This is Metal Harbinger saying to read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	14. Ch 13: An Old Nemesis

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: I know it's been a while as I've also been working on my "Street Fighter: The Chosen Ones" fic (and having finally introduced my last "Chosen One"), but here I bring you the latest installment of your beloved antihero's crusade against Umbrella. Now on with the story!!!

Chapter 13: An Old Nemesis

Jake and the six remaining U.B.C.S. operatives marched down the street with weapons drawn, scanning all directions for possible threats.

"How's it looking so far?" Collins called out from the back.

Both Jake and the Irish marksman brought up the group's rear, while Daggett and Chavez led the way with their more powerful weapons drawn.

"So far, so good," Chavez replied, keeping his voice down in case any carriers or B.O.W.s were nearby.

"So just where are we supposed to be heading for?" the hitman asked Mikhail, who moved in front of him with Murphy at his side.

"The St. Michael's Clock Tower," the lieutenant replied, "our assigned extraction point. We have a chopper waiting for us in the suburbs, which will come to pick us up once we somehow find a way to ring the tower's bell."

"Last we checked, we were on Dryden Street, so we've still got quite a ways to go," Tyrell pointed out.

"Think anybody else made it there?" Murphy asked worriedly, the deaths of Schneider, Giles and Bader still lingering within his mind.

"I'm hopeful some of the guys made it," Collins spoke, "Not everybody in this group is as much of a pushover as some of the higher-ups would like to believe."

"I sure hope Carlos is alright," the American sniper continued as he looked upon another patch of concrete heavily stained by the blood of more than one person, judging by the amount.

"Carlos?" Jake asked.

"Oliveira, Carlos Oliveira," Murphy replied, "my best friend in this entire unit."

"I thought I was your best friend in this entire unit," Collins chuckled, giving his friend a playful punch in the shoulder, hoping to lighten his mood.

"Don't worry, you both are," the sniper said with a slight laugh, sounding like it was forced. He had been thinking nonstop of his friend throughout this entire ordeal, wishing he was here to brighten things with his tireless optimism and humor. Having Shane alone just wasn't enough for him; he needed his other friend along as well to boost his confidence.

The group was about to round another corner, approaching a Hack's Chicken Shack fast food joint, where the smell of fried chicken still lingered faintly in the air, giving the men a welcome change from the stench of decay dominating the atmosphere. They were about to pass when the sound of plastic trays clattering to the floor echoed through one of the broken windows, followed by a shadowy figure darting past.

Mikhail motioned for everybody to stop and trained his weapon on the restaurant.

"You think it's another survivor?" Tyrell asked, training his gun on the window the figure had passed by.

"I don't know for sure," the Russian replied, remembering the speed at which those red-skinned zombies that attacked Bader had moved, "but we're going to have to find out."

The lieutenant then turned to his subordinates, "Chavez and Seeker, I want both of you with me."

"Yes sir," both men said in unison before he turned his attention to the others.

"Collins and Jake, I want both of you to go around the back and guard any possible rear exits. Daggett and Patrick, both of you remain outside and stand guard for any potential threats."

Jake was surprised the man was giving him orders already, being a supposed civilian and everything, but the look in the man's eyes told him that he was serious and was impressed by his abilities. Knowing these men needed all the help they could get, he nodded to Shane and the two of them rounded the small building and took combative positions with weapons drawn.

Looking towards the shattered front door, Mikhail motioned for Chavez to make his move, while he and Murphy followed close behind.

Moving methodically with weapons drawn, the trio made their way down the narrow aisle, careful not to slip on any of the half-eaten meals that had been spilled all over their path. Blood covered several of the booths and the front counter, but no bodies were immediately present, keeping the men on heightened alert.

"Looks clear so far," Chavez reported as he prepared to round the counter, stopping as he suddenly spotted another large trail of blood surrounded by bloody foot and handprints. "Spoke too soon," he muttered, loud enough for his colleagues to hear him.

The trail was in front of the men's restroom and the three stopped as a hoarse growl came from within, followed by a very human shriek of terror.

Before the soldiers could react, the door flew open and a clean cut, brown-haired man tumbled out, followed closely by another one of those red-skinned zombies in a green employee polo shirt.

"Shit!" Chavez blurted out and fired wildly into the approaching menace, launching a barrage of rounds into its chest and knocking it backwards onto the bathroom's tiled floor. With the attacker immobilized, he fired a final round into its skull to end its threat once and for all.

"Threat neutralized," the scout reported, watching the opened bathroom closely and listening for any more zombies that could be lurking nearby.

Mikhail brushed past his subordinate and approached the lone survivor, who huddled against the wall and struggled to maintain his hold on a Beretta in his hands. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the man appeared to be dressed like some kind of soldier with his yellow combat vest and camouflage pants. A patch on his shoulder indicated that he was an operative of the Special Weapons and Tactics Squad, or S.T.A.R.S. for short, a unit he had been familiar with thanks to some of his American colleagues.

"Sir, are you alright?" he asked, reaching down to help the man back to his feet.

"I-I think so…" the man stammered and carefully slid his gun back into its holster. "Thank you," he muttered and then looked to see the two other U.B.C.S. members present. "Who are you guys?"

"We are part of a biohazard countermeasure service sent in by Umbrella, and we are here to take you to safety," the squad leader explained.

"Sent by Umbrella?" the man suddenly gasped in wide-eyed horror. Before he knew it, Mikhail found himself nearly being knocked from his feet as the man shoved him away and bolted down the narrow hallway towards the back door.

A loud crash rang through the alley as the back door flew open, nearly sandwiching Shane against the nearest wall. Jake looked over to find a yellow vested man sprinting away as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Quick, stop that man!" Mikhail yelled from inside.

Having regained his wits, Collins began chasing after the vested man, Jake following closely behind. Tyrell and Daggett had also heard their leader's order and joined in.

"He's getting away!" Collins shouted back to the others, suddenly skidding to a halt as he came to a brick wall and two separate paths. Remembering what had happened to Bader when he ran ahead by himself, he waited for the others to catch up.

"Where did he go?" Chavez asked, pointing his weapon down both directions before turning his attention to Mikhail.

The Russian exhaled deeply, knowing he would have to make another order he wouldn't like. "We're going to have to split up and look for him. Collins and Seeker, I want you two to come with me. Patrick, Daggett and Chavez, the three of you take the other direction. Jake, go with them and stick close by!"

Nodding in unison, the men went about their ways.

"He shouldn't have gotten too far," Tyrell spoke, stealing quick glances upward to make sure none of those bug creatures or any other crazies were lurking above.

"We'll have to be careful," Chavez spoke, "He freaked out once Mikhail mentioned we were sent by Umbrella and he was packing heat too. He whimpered like a pussy and everything, but still can't underestimate the guy."

"If he tries anything funny, then I don't care whether or not we were sent here to rescue his sorry ass," Daggett growled as his heavy machinegun wavered in front of him, "I sure as shit wouldn't be against ventilating his ass and then taking his head as a trophy!"

"Keep your bloodlust in check, Daggett!" Tyrell snapped, "Every mission you don't care what the objective is as long as you get to kill something in the end, well now is not one of those times!"

"Guys, hush!" Chavez hissed as he happened across a steel door which still swayed back and forth slightly, suggesting somebody or something had just been through.

"Think he could have gone in there?" Jake asked from the back, struggling to see around the heavy machine gunner. Even been a tall guy at six feet three inches, he still had a hard time seeing around the muscular German, who stood two inches taller than him and combined with the mass of his mighty weapon, threatened to take up most of the alley's space.

"We're just going to have to find out," Tyrell spoke up before turning to face Jake and Daggett, "Both of you wait out here. Chavez and I will search the building."

Jake and Daggett both nodded wordlessly and rounded the building into a small courtyard positioned between four tenement buildings, where most of the space had been taken up by two pickup trucks and a black van, along with several dumpsters and piles of miscellaneous debris.

Meanwhile, Tyrell and Chavez moved down a darkened hallway littered with opened suitcases, their contents covering most of the carpeted floor, a sign of those who had attempted to flee, but not make it very far. Beneath the discarded clothes, books and other abandoned possessions, they could see small puddles of blood and the congealed clumps in some of those red splotches that kept them on edge.

A gunshot startled both men, followed by a succession that had then rounding a corner towards the source of the shots. A bloodied white door awaited them at the end, knocked loose from its frame by either repeated kicks or shoulder butts.

Both men charged head on into the small apartment to find themselves in a living room area, where the same yellow vested man was firing repeatedly into a zombie dressed in heavily-stained blue bedclothes. Raising his rifle, Tyrell fired a lone round that caught the walking cadaver in the back of its already collapsing skull.

The vested man again took notice of the soldiers that had been following him and pointed his gun towards them.

"Leave me alone!" he screamed, "I know why you've been sent here!"

"But sir-" Tyrell tried to speak, only to watch as the man ran towards a nearby window and threw himself through it.

Jake jumped to attention as a window shattered near him. Raising his rifle, he circled around the van, only to find the lone man from earlier stumbling around in a pile of long discarded trash. The man had a gun with him and knowing that had to be dealt with first, he ran up and with a swift kick, knocked the gun from his hand.

"I don't think so!" the hitman snarled as he stood over the frightened man with his rifle trained. It was then that he managed to get a good look at the individual.

It was that S.T.A.R.S. member from the bank, Brad he believed the man's name was.

"No!" the man screamed and tried to bolt past the rifle-wielding gunman, but Jake was quick for his size and caught the ex-cop by his arm, nearly twisting it from its socket before pulling him close and flipping him over his shoulder.

The vested man let out a frightened yelp as he hit the unforgiving concrete, just as Daggett reached the hitman.

"Lt. Victor, this is Daggett," the man spoke into his headset, "we have located the survivor."

_"Affirmative," _the squad leader replied.

By now Tyrell and Chavez made their way into the back lot through the shattered window, the former picking up the ex-cop's pistol.

The fallen man had now pushed himself into a sitting position and slowly backed himself towards the van, beads of sweat flowing freely down his forehead. Slight whimpers were the only noises he made as he stared down the numerous weapons now pointed in his face.

"Why do you keep running from us?" Tyrell demanded, "We are with the U.B.C.S. and we are here to evacuate any survivors we can find."

"Bullshit!" the man shouted with a sudden bravado, "Umbrella is behind this entire mess! How do I know you're not lying?"

"Sir, we don't have time to explain," Tyrell said offering the S.T.A.R.S. member his gun back, "We have to get moving."

"Please, you guys wouldn't wanna be around me anyway…" the man groaned, "there's a giant monster that has been following me, a monster that's after S.T.A.R.S. members!"

"A monster after S.T.A.R.S. members?" Jake repeated aloud, wondering if it was the monster he overheard him talking about back at the bank, the same beast who had blown up the police paddy wagon a few nights ago.

"Yes! I've been running from that freak for the last three days!" the man spat.

Deciding to play dumb with the guy, the hitman continued speaking, "Let me guess, this little "admirer" of yours," he said making quotation gestures with the word "admirer" for emphasis, "is eight feet tall, has one eye, snappy dresser, has fists the size of bowling balls and carries a rocket launcher?"

"Bingo! Wait a minute…how did you know?" the S.T.A.R.S. operative asked looking at him warily, along with the soldiers.

"Let's just say your big ugly friend and I had an encounter a few nights ago, tried to kill me and a bunch of other people," the hitman explained, offering a hand to the man.

"Son of a bitch…" the man muttered, accepting Jake's hand and dusting himself off, "So this thing will just kill anything that gets in its way? Fuck…"

"Heh, I'd say," the hitman sarcastically retorted.

"Alright, I hate to break up your little coffee clutch, but we've gotta link up with the others and then make our way for the clock tower," Tyrell said looking around to the other U.B.C.S. operatives.

"No, we have to get to the R.P.D. and warn the others!" the vested man spoke, but then suddenly stopped and displayed a look as if to say "Why the hell did I just say that?"

"No, we have to get to the St. Michael's Clock Tower," the N.B.C. advisor started to explain, only to be cut off by another scream from the ex-cop, who pointed upward behind them.

The other men turned to see the aforementioned brute on a rooftop above them, standing tall with its trademark rocket launcher in hand.

_"Speak of the devil."_

"S.T.A.R.S.!!!" it roared in a ragged gasp, raising the rocket launcher onto its shoulder and pulling the trigger, launching another heat-seeking missile at one of its intended targets and the unknown humans surrounding it.

"SCATTER!!!" Tyrell screamed over the rocket's whistle, before it connected with the van.

A sweltering eruption followed as reddish-orange flames blanketed the two nearby vehicles. They were quickly devoured and combined together for one large explosion of glass, scrap iron and other various pieces of debris.

Jake had instinctively taken cover in a nearby dumpster, pulling the lid over him before he could be overcome by the rush of ungodly heat. He lay curled in a fetal position, waiting for the earth shattering roar to subside before he dare peek his head out from his hiding spot.

Again, flames were all he could see, the hallmark of that giant's last appearance. The confined quarters left the billowing inferno ready to swallow up everything in plain sight, he was almost certain the others didn't make it.

"Hey! Is anybody there?" Chavez suddenly called out, and the hitman was able to make his shadowy figure out amongst the dancing flames.

_"Damned fool, you're going to get us all killed!" _Jake thought to himself, figuring the brute would hang around to make sure it had completely eliminated its targets.

The hired gun was about to climb out when he noticed movement in the building across from him, movement too fast to be that of a zombie. A wooden door slowly opened and he watched as Daggett and the S.T.A.R.S. operative peeked their heads out, far enough for Chavez to notice them. With a nod, the field scout approached them, followed by Tyrell, who nearly coughed up a lung from the smoke inhalation.

_"Hey, are you guys still there?" _Collins' voice called out over their radios, _"We heard the explosion."_

"We're here Shane," Chavez spoke as the hitman finally revealed himself to the others, "all of us."

A series of low booming noises soon followed, ones that could only be described as the footsteps of something rather large…

"S.T.A.R.S.!!!"

The creature appeared before the group of five standing right in the middle of the fire, completely unaffected by the flames which assaulted its bulging form.

"Like I said, you have to get away from me!" the S.T.A.R.S. member cried before rushing down the alley.

"No, wait!" Tyrell called out, grabbing the man by his vest, "We're sticking with you whether you like it or not," he then turned to face the others, "Come on, we're getting out of here!"

The survivors ran as fast as they could, the beast's quaking footfalls echoing all around them. It seemed hopeless to the hired gun.

"I don't think we're going to be able to outrun this thing!" he shouted ahead to the others, "We might have no choice but to stay and fight this thing!"

Once he saw they were out in a more open area, he stopped and turned around, opening fire on the approaching monstrosity. Blood sprayed out of its torso as the high-caliber rounds tore through its trench coat, yet the thing didn't even flinch.

_"It might be like shooting a brick wall, but we really don't have much choice otherwise," _he said to himself as the others took notice of his actions and joined in.

Tyrell and Chavez fired simultaneously, while Daggett unloaded with his heavy machinegun, even his rounds couldn't produce desirable results as the beast strode forth and did something that shouldn't have been possible…it broke into a run towards the muscular German.

Due to his heavy gun, Daggett was too slow to react and took a fist to the face; hard enough to snap his neck backward with enough force that almost made him look like a human pez dispenser.

"Murdering puta!!!" Chavez roared as he fired what remained of his current clip into the giant's face. Purple blood splashed from the new holes erupting across its ashen surface, yet the monster still did not show any signs of injury, only anger as it reared its head back and threw its arms into the air while it let out a demonic howl that would surely echo throughout the city.

"You piece of shit! You're going down!" the enraged soldier cried as he pumped the M203 grenade launcher attachment and fired an explosive round at the behemoth. The grenade whistled through the air until it was about to connect with its torso, until the monster unexpectedly sidestepped the projectile with a terrifying ease. Instead, the round connected with a ransacked newsstand, obliterating it in another shower of flames.

Jake fired into the monster's face as well, also managing to strike a few of the purple tendrils which sprouted from its right shoulder, sending more of its oily blood cascading down its side. He continued firing until his current clip ran dry.

"Reload!" the hitman shouted to Tyrell and Chavez, taking cover behind an abandoned muscle car, only to bump into the cowering S.T.A.R.S operative.

"See, I told you people you should've gotten away from me when you had the chance!" the vested man sighed, clutching his Beretta for dear life.

"Yeah, whatever," Jake grunted as he inched towards the end before looking slightly over his shoulder to the cowering man, "You got a name…cop?" he asked, remembering the S.T.A.R.S. patch on the man's undershirt.

"Brad…" the man muttered, "Brad Vickers, I'm the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team's pilot, or at least I was until that fat toad Irons suspended all of us indefinitely," he finished with bitterness dripping from every word.

"Well nice to meet you Brad. I'm Jake and I'd happily tell you my life story if we weren't under such 'pressing' matters at the moment," the hitman sardonically replied.

As he finished his sentence, Jake took notice of Daggett's corpse and the hefty-looking M-249 S.A.W. that rested nearby. He noticed most of the bullets were still present on its current chain and were all that appeared to be left. From watching the German gunner in action, he could tell that the heavy machinegun didn't have much effect when fired upon the giant's chest, but yet he wondered what kind of effect it would have if fired into his face. He had to find out.

Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, the hitman made a mad dash for the heavy gun as the brute remained distracted by Tyrell and Chavez.

"Jake no!" Brad called out from behind, but his call fell on deaf ears. Either his newfound companion was very gutsy or very stupid the ex-cop thought to himself.

The hired gun never took his eyes away from the dark clad brute as he approached the discarded heavy artillery. Hopeful he wouldn't break anything as he dove for it; Jake leapt before the weapon and struggled to deploy its bipod before resting it upright with a labored grunt as he lay prone on the ground.

Hearing the grunt, the one-eyed monster suddenly lost interest in the two other humans pelting it with gunfire, turning to face the one who dared to sneak up behind it.

Jake depressed the trigger and was nearly knocked backwards by the weapon's powerful recoil, his arms quickly numbing from the rattling force. He had managed to score several hits that had managed to knock the beast back a few steps, but the nameless monster was none too impressed and roared in anger, preparing for another charge.

A staccato volley of automatic and handgun fire distracted the monster before it could make its next offensive rush, forcing it to again take its lone eye away from the hitman.

Mikhail, Murphy and Shane stood tall together in the distance, firing everything they had at the abomination.

"Fire everything you've got!" the Russian hollered as he prepared to unclip a grenade, but stopped as soon as he saw Jake preparing to open fire with his big gun.

"Rookie mistake freak!" the hitman hissed and again depressed the trigger on the S.A.W., firing away into the back of the creature's head and upper back until the mighty gun clicked empty and abandoned it.

His volley had finally produced some significant results as the beast began to convulse. The powerful rounds, combined with the gunfire from all the mercs, left buckets of blood gushing from hundreds of tiny little holes. Pumping his grenade launcher again, Chavez fired an explosive round into the creature's chest. This time the round connected and knocked it flat onto its back. With the monster struggling to rise, the plucky scout ran over and fired what he had left into its face.

"And stay the fuck down!" the Hispanic man shouted before delivering a hard kick to its head.

"Is it over?" Brad nervously asked, slowly standing up from behind the parked car.

All of the men stared nervously at the prone giant as its purple blood pooled around its head, unsure of what to say.

"I don't know, but I'm in no hurry to find out," Mikhail replied before addressing the others, "Let's just get the hell out of here!"

"Yes sir…AAAAARRRRGGGGHHH!!!"

Before they could react, they turned to find the creature shooting its hand out and clamping down on Chavez's lower leg, crushing the scout's fibula and tibia into dust.

"What the hell?" was all Jake could say as the brute pushed itself back to its feet, hoisting the squirming man into the air and letting him dangle as he cried out helplessly. None of the others could open fire, knowing they would hit their friend if they tried. It seemed the one-eyed giant realized this and was toying with the survivors, wanting to rub salt in their wounds.

With a sick ripping noise, a purple tendril burst downward from the creature's lowered wrist and shot straight into the dying man's mouth, punching a hold straight through his skull and spraying blood, bone and brain fragments onto the pavement below.

Crying out in terror, Brad again took off, attempting to create as much distance between himself and the others as he possibly could.

"Brad wait!" Jake shouted and took off after the fleeing man.

"Jake, no don't!" Mikhail called out.

The behemoth overheard the two civilians' attempted escape and tossed the dead U.B.C.S. operative aside like a rag doll.

"S.T.A.R.S.!!!" it roared.

Again raising its rocket launcher effortlessly onto its shoulder, it fired another missile towards one of its intended targets and the unknown human who accompanied it. The rocket whistled through the air and struck one of the nearby apartment complexes, obliterating the side wall and sending chunks of concrete and jagged steel raining down upon its targets.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Impressive I must say," Nicholai remarked aloud as he observed the battle between Victor's surviving men and the Nemesis T-Type from inside another apartment complex.

He was familiar with the beast, often called "Nemesis" for short. All of the supervisors had been made aware of the Tyrant and were told to avoid it at all costs. Only Nicholai himself had seen the creature up close before the mission, back when it was still in stasis at the company's main lab in Paris.

It was intended to be ten times deadlier than the other kinds of Tyrants they had created, and also their chance to prove a T-Virus infected creature could be intelligent.

"_Indeed it has been," _he thought as he observed its use of a Stinger missile launcher, a breakthrough for creatures that would have otherwise been ventilated on the spot, as they were forced to rely solely upon their physical gifts. He also remarked how it was able to effortlessly dodge that explosive round fired by Arturo Chavez, whereas a lesser B.O.W. would have taken the brunt of the projectile and been blown to pieces as a result.

Then of course, there was its ability to understand pre-programmed targets.

Among the U.B.C.S. operatives fighting for their very lives was that mysterious man in black he had seen battling the Drain Deimos creatures outside of the Hydro Clean Laundromat, and some man in a mustard yellow-colored vest, whom the Nemesis seemed most interested in slaying.

Having captured a still image of the vested man, the supervisor input it into the national law enforcement database. The man was identified as Bradley Charles Vickers, aged 34, a native of Delucia, Iowa who was an assigned pilot to the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad's Raccoon Division, more specifically its Alpha Team.

As were all of the higher-ranking operatives within Umbrella, Nicholai was familiar with the incident at the Spencer Estate that occurred back in late July, when both S.T.A.R.S. teams had been sent into the Arklay Mountains area to investigate a series of so-called "cannibal murders," only to stumble across the "house of horrors" estate itself. In the end, only five of them made it out alive and one of them was standing before him.

Perhaps the beast had been sent to snuff out the remaining members as part of an elaborate cover up.

"_I could surely collect a handsome reward for killing him, but I'd have to either bring back a photo or his actual head as proof, and right now I can't fulfill either option," _he thought callously as the man hid from the battle itself.

So far, the advanced Tyrant had managed to kill Hans Daggett and now held Arturo Chavez by his leg, daring the others to open fire, yet another sign of its superior intelligence.

From out of nowhere, the B.O.W. suddenly impaled the operative with its tentacle, killing the man instantly.

Officer Vickers had finally seen enough and took off running for a nearby alley, only to be followed closely by the dark coated man. Nemesis saw this and fired one of its rockets at the fleeing pair, forcing the supervisor to close his laptop and brace himself against the floor.

The ground shook around the sergeant as the rocket connected with a nearby building. He covered both his head and the laptop as heat washed over him, almost concerned more about his gathered data than he was his own skin for once. When the roar of flames finally subsided, only then did he dare move from his spot.

He pushed himself over to the window he had been observing the battle from, only to find the remaining mercenaries retreating, yet the Nemesis allowed them to escape.

Its remaining opponents having vanished from sight, the advanced Tyrant roared loudly and with superhuman leg strength, leapt onto the roof of a nearby building before it left the supervisor's vision.

Reopening his laptop, Nicholai typed in an addition entry regarding his personal observation:

"_The NE-T Virus appears to work too well within our Raccoon subject._

"_From my personal observations, it will completely forget about other random beings present to remain completely focused on its assigned task, in this case being to eliminate surviving members of the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. branch._

"_If the virus can be synthesized to operate this well, then think of the possibilities for future operations! Perhaps there will come a day when Umbrella field operatives will be able to operate alongside our Bio-Organic Weapons with no fear of personal danger."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Damn it!" Jake cried out, trying to shield himself from the burning debris raining down from above.

An explosion occurred above the hitman and his new acquaintance as they retreated through the alley. He had to rely on some lightning-quick movements to avoid the jagged burning remnants of a collapsing fire escape and still contend with the large concrete chunks that fell around him like a meteor shower, which threatened to knock him into unconsciousness at any second.

"How much further?" he gagged as dust wafted into his nostrils and opened mouth, as well as bringing his hands up to shield any small pebbles from falling into his eyes. He could feel his nerves rattle at the clunking sounds of rocks striking trashcans, dumpsters and fire escapes around him.

"We're almost out!" Brad replied running as fast as he could, his ears suddenly picking up a welcome noise as they moved further away from the roaring flames. "Shit, can you hear that?" he cried out excitedly.

The distinctive whirr of helicopter blades could be heard in the distance, followed by a voice booming over a loudspeaker:

"_This is the R.P.D.! Any survivors out there are to immediately report to Liberty Drive, where we will airlift you back to the station. We will be taking off in three minutes; I repeat we will be lifting off in three minutes! Report to Liberty Drive immediately if you are able to hear this message!"_

The two men stepped onto Liberty Drive, where the blue and white police helicopter waited at the far end of the street. Two R.P.D. officers could be made out and a small group of people could be seen gathered around, carefully being loaded on one at a time.

"Over here!" Brad shouted and waved his hands to the two officers. The cops immediately took notice and began waving both men forth as they loaded the last civilian inside.

The two men continued their run after the waiting chopper, until the ground shook behind them, knocking both of them from their feet.

Rolling over onto their backs, there stood the one-eyed menace behind them, having created a small crater where it landed. The rocket launcher was still in its hand and it roared in fury as it anticipated its next kill.

"Damn you!" Jake angrily shouted towards the monster, raising his rifle and firing into the arm which it held its rocket launcher, striking the powerful weapon repeatedly. The bullets pinged from its steel surface and did little damage, but distracted the beast long enough to knock the weapon from its hand.

As Jake dealt with their stalker, Brad turned to look towards the chopper, only to gasp loudly in horror as he witnessed it lifting off, leaving him and his companion to die.

"No, come back!!!" he hollered as loudly as he could and again waved his arms frantically, but his pleas went unheard as the whirlybird disappeared from sight.

With his opponent temporarily stunned by his latest barrage, Jake pulled out another one of his hand grenades and tossed it at the brute's feet.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted before grabbing Brad by the vest and pulling him forward. The explosive detonated behind them and a loud grunt followed by a booming thud indicated he may have at least temporarily stunned his opponent. _"He's probably just stunned if he can survive all those rounds from a freaking M-249 S.A.W. and those explosive rounds from Chavez."_

"Those bastards took off without us!" the pilot shouted, motioning to where the chopper once stood.

"Damn it!" the exasperated hitman grunted, "Is there any other way you know of?" he asked, having to slow his pace down a bit as he was practically nipping at the ex-cop's heels.

"There! That's Burridge Avenue; we should be able to-GAHH!!!" Brad cried as he rounded the corner, only to be met by another mass of zombies charging hungrily towards them, no doubt having been after the group of survivors that had just made their escape. There was no way around them and they knew it.

"Shit!" Jake cursed aloud as he stared at the undead cannibals, most of whom became even more frenzied at the presence of the fresh meat standing before them. No available exits were in sight.

"We're trapped!" Brad yelped as he watched the zombies close in on them, "We have to do something or those things will get us!"

As the former S.T.A.R.S. member spoke, the distinctive roar of a certain eight foot tall monster blared above everything else.

"Our luck just gets better and better," he sardonically sighed, already beginning to think of the relatives he would never see again back home in Delucia.

Jake observed the zombies in front of them and watched as they brainlessly bumped into each other and were far enough apart where he could probably break through them if he tried. Pulling out his dual Berettas, he looked back to Brad. "Come on, I have a plan!"

Brad's mouth hung open in shock as he watched the big man charge head on towards the zombies. "What the hell are you doing? It's suicide!"

"You have to be as cunning as a fox, Officer! Didn't they teach you anything back at the police academy?" Jake asked before firing into the face of a zombie that had gotten too close, "We're going to make your big, ugly, Frankenstein-wannabe friend have to work to get to us!

"He'll have to punch his way through all these freaks before he can get to us! Now move, duck and dodge!" Jake ordered as he fired a round into the face of a woman in a bloodied purple sweater.

"You're insane!" Brad cried in despair as he reluctantly followed the hitman towards the greater mass of walking cadavers. The smells of disease and decay hit the cowardly former officer like a tidal wave as the peeling hands were nearly groping him and he could feel their putrid breaths upon his exposed skin. Pale hands, glossed over white eyes, tattered and bloodstained clothing, and crumbling faces were all he could see as he advanced further and further.

Jake kept his arms outstretched with guns drawn, taking down two zombies simultaneously before crippling another with a shot to its neck. He leapt into the air and performed a spinning heel kick that fractured another's jaw and followed up with a Tae Kwon Do-style roundhouse kick that cracked most of the bones in another zombie's face, but failed to kill it.

He looked over his shoulder to see Brad lagging behind, more intent on running than trying to shoot down any zombies around him. Again he watched as one monster grabbed onto the man's shoulder, until he shook it off and ducked under another pair of rotting arms, only to wind up in the grip of another. Spinning his entire body around, he knocked the zombie backwards into one of its undead brethren. The ex-cop was then grabbed around the ankle by another fallen zombie, quickly shaking his foot free before inadvertently tackling another to the ground and nearly stumbling himself.

"Keep your head down!" Jake shouted as he fired a few wild rounds into the surrounding crowd, knocking a few back a couple of steps and giving the other man more time to catch up.

"Watch it!" Brad cried as the brains of a zombie splattered onto his uniform.

The roar of the stalker was heard from behind and he soon comprehended the concept of Jake's plan, as the giant had fallen a considerable distance behind them and was punching its way through any zombies either one of them had failed to shoot down.

The monster punched its way through with outraged fury, shattering bones and punching holes through its victims' bodies, even stopping to toss a few around out of sheer frustration. Nonetheless, they had created a wall of decaying flesh that had thrown a wrench in the horrid beast's pursuit of the two living men.

Eventually the two survivors had managed to press through the undead parade, only to find a row of smashed up cars standing in their way.

"Through there!" Jake shouted as he pointed towards the half-opened door of an abandoned station wagon, quickly climbing inside.

"Right," Brad replied as he dashed up to the vehicle and hurriedly climbed in, waiting for his companion to kick the passenger's side door open. The roar of the stalker was still heard close behind as it punched its way through zombie after zombie that stood in its way.

He didn't want to say it, but this mysterious new guy's plan had worked to fruition, and had now bought them some extra time as they fought to stay alive in this necropolis.

"Man, that was fucking close!" the ex-cop gasped crawling out of the smashed up car. He fell to the ground and quickly pushed himself back to his feet, standing next to Jake, who was bent over panting heavily.

"No shit…Sherlock!" the taller man gasped and then stood upright, popping some of his joints back into place.

"We have to find a place to relax," Brad said, "I don't know if we'll be able to reach the station though. The phone lines are down and all the radio frequencies are jammed. We're trapped in this place," he said shaking his head.

"Down there!" Jake hissed, pointing down the street where a Tool It Up hardware superstore was located.

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"…so that's how I wound up in this whole mess that you see before you," Brad explained, finishing up the third cup of coffee he had poured himself within the amount of time him and Jake had been holed up inside the hardware store, which so far had been mercifully free of any threats.

The former S.T.A.R.S. pilot had just finished telling Jake everything he knew about the events that had transpired over the past few months, starting with the beginning with the vicious attacks in the forest and then Bravo team being sent in and never heard from again.

Alpha Team would then mobilize and search the surrounding fields, only to be assaulted by dog-like monsters after discovering the remnants of Bravo's chopper and with it, the mutilated remnants of their pilot Kevin Dooley.

Out of his own uncontrollable fear, he then took off and made his way back to the R.P.D. station, where he tried in vain to convince the Chief of Police of what was going on back at the Spencer Estate, only to be ignored at every turn and taunted for being scared of a few "flea bitten mongrels." He was eventually forced to go back, threatened with serious charges if he refused.

Making his way back to the mansion, he witnessed a battle on the mansion's helipad between his surviving teammates and some hideous seven foot tall genetic mutation with a gigantic claw that looked like it could have torn through a tank. When all seemed lost, he tipped the scales in their favor by dropping a rocket launcher down to fellow Alpha teammate Chris Redfield.

With the monster being blown sky high, the mansion soon followed.

Afterwards, the survivors had to endure the intense scrutiny from fellow officers, who accused them of "inhaling too many blue herbs." Things would only sink further as Chief Irons refused to believe them and suspended the entire S.T.A.R.S. team indefinitely.

Then the random murders began occurring around town, ending with the events of today.

The man spent more than two hours telling his new acquaintance of what had happened and although it had been a difficult process to go through, in the end he felt glad to finally get it off his chest.

It was an influx of information that blew Jake's mind beyond belief. He could only sit and ponder what was probably going on outside as they spoke. Now he truly felt in over his head with accepting this mission and was anxious to get his hands around the throat of his "mysterious benefactor."

"Man that is some seriously fucked up shit you've just told me," the young hitman sighed, resting his head against the wall behind him, fighting to stay awake after everything he had encountered so far in the day. He knew falling asleep in an unguarded place like this would only leave him at the mercy of those critters. Having removed his heavy jacket and shoes, along with all of his weapons, made the urge stronger to the point where he had to literally slap himself across the face to stay awake.

Brad on the other hand, was too frightened to sleep and was already pouring himself his fourth cup of coffee as they sat in the second floor employee lounge. The room had numerous booths near large plate glass windows that overlooked the entire store, meaning the two men would have a bird's eye view of anything to come through the front doors. There were also several soda and candy machines, which the hired gun had raided, hoping to give himself the caffeine boost to stay awake, but it was proving to be of no use as he felt his eyelids fluttering.

The newspaper he held in his hand slipped from his grasp and fell to the scuffed up floor below as he passed out.

"Just great…" the ex-cop whispered as he watched Jake slump backwards and fall asleep. The man was out of it and he had dead weight to carry around. It would be a chore to rouse him with everything he had probably been through over the past few nights.

Brad slurped his coffee quietly and saw the newspaper lying at the man's feet. Usually whenever he felt nervous he would read, but right now his self help books were locked away in the S.T.A.R.S. office back at the station and he dare not read the paper for fear of happening across the same revolting headlines that had been plastered all over the front pages for the past few weeks.

"_Nothing but stories of murder after murder being committed around the city by random unknown assailants," _he thought to himself somberly. The day before the outbreak, he had overheard several officers in Emmy's Diner conversing about how they had been called to a different crime scene every single day and sometimes, to more than one location in a day.

The thoughts of encountering the attackers face to face always sent chills up and down his spine, especially since they were probably linked to that incident at the mansion two months earlier.

He had witnessed from the safety of his cockpit as Alpha's vehicle specialist Joseph Frost was systematically torn apart by what he thought of as "demon dogs from Hell," and then overheard how the others had been done in by other monstrosities that by the laws of nature, shouldn't have existed.

"_Edward Dewey, Kevin Dooley, Kenneth J. Sullivan, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken, Enrico Marini…even that backstabbing prick Albert Wesker…" _their litany of names ran through his mind. Just hearing about their deaths always frightened him a great deal and he still had nightmares about those demon dogs ripping apart his teammate right before his very eyes. He still blamed himself for his teammates' deaths and the pressure eventually became too much for him, forcing him to seek the seclusion of the north woods.

It was only a threatening phone call from Alpha weapons specialist Barry Burton that had brought him back to town, informing him that Umbrella was making major plans overseas and needed him to find Jill immediately.

"_Damn it Burton, you couldn't just leave me alone. How the hell did you even manage to find me anyway? I always knew you were a persistent, stubborn bastard, but this was just taking the cake," _Brad said to himself, _"Maybe I should've just let him use my ass for target practice. It would be a more merciful way to go compared to those things outside…" _he thought as the image of the one-eyed giant flashed in his mind, forcing him to almost yelp aloud.

Part of him really wanted to make it up to Jill for abandoning her and everybody else on that fateful night; after all she was the only one who was always nice to him. On more than one occasion she had come to his defense whenever the other guys around the station would pick on him for being a coward.

"_I still remember the time she put that asshole Deagle in his place after he fired that clip of blanks in my face," _he thought, forcing a brief smile as he thought of his kindly teammate.

Jill and Rebecca had forgiven him, but Chris and Barry still harbored animosity towards him, and the pilot felt deep down that either man would have killed him if given the chance. He even hated himself for his own spinelessness.

"_Damn it, sometimes I wonder why I'm even alive. Maybe it would help a lot of other people if I just ended it all," _the pilot thought as he stared down at the Beretta 92F resting on the table beside him.

Part of him had wanted to escape this nightmare ever since he first laid eyes upon that disfigured man back at the Stagla gas station. The sight of the man hunched over the body of a woman, heartlessly tearing apart her insides, was a sight forever stuck with him.

It was further proof his teammates weren't crazy. He had now seen an actual zombie live in the flesh!

However, a more logical side of him wanted to remain alive so he could locate Jill and any other survivors he possibly could, thus to redeem himself for his previous letdown. The appearance of that one-eyed monster deepened his incentive to find her and get the hell out of town.

"_This has to be Umbrella's doing," _he thought to himself, gulping down his coffee.

Jake sat across from him passed out cold with his head rested against the wall and his long legs sticking out from the booth. The position in which he lay looked very uncomfortable, but he was probably too tired to care. He could only watch as the man's chest rose slightly, partially disguised by the Kevlar vest worn beneath his t-shirt.

Brad was easily intimidated by the muscular man, especially by that vampiric glare that seemingly never left his eyes. It reminded him a lot of this creepy Goth kid from his sophomore Biology class, the one who always reeked of marijuana smoke and would sit in the back, carving Pentagrams into the surface of the desks. He too had that creepy gaze that sent chills up and down the spines of all around him.

Norton Casey was his name, and he was more than just a frightening gaze, he was a legitimate threat, having beaten up several people around campus, carrying a switchblade on his being at all times, and was finally expelled after trying to blow up the chemistry lab. The former S.T.A.R.S. officer saw a lot of that man in Jake just through his gaze alone.

"_Wouldn't surprise me at all if they were distantly related," _he mentally quipped.

There was something that just was not right about that guy. None of what was going on around him seemed to faze him at all; it was almost as if he was made of ice. The stone-faced, vampire-like facial expressions amplified the effect by ten and could easily frighten almost anybody.

Despite the terror he felt, he had to realize that the man was a capable fighter and that he probably wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for him.

He couldn't help but ponder as he stared at the sleeping man, until a thunderous crash came from below, knocking the front doors from their tracks and rattling Jake from his slumber.

"No…not again!"

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Jake Cavanaugh laid back in a deep, thoughtless slumber one second and the next would find himself jolted awake by a violent crash that nearly rocked the foundation of the entire building.

"Fuckin' A!" the hitman cried as he rose to his feet, "What the hell is going on now?" he asked straining his ears for a reply, only to receive a muffled whimper from Brad.

"No…not again!" was all he said.

Reaching down for his shoes, he quickly pulled them back on, thankful he hadn't untied them, and then reached for his weapons before pulling his trench coat back on in record time.

"What the fuck is it man?" he asked looking for the store's front entrance, only to gasp quietly.

The front automatic doors had been smashed open and knocked from their tracks, taking most of the surrounding wall with it. Dust clouds had risen into the air and filled much of the lower level, obscuring their vision. Jake strained his eyes to see beyond the dust and crumbling debris, only to be met by the silhouette of a familiar eight foot tall beast.

"Here we go again…" he muttered.

"What are we going to do?" Brad cried as he grabbed his handgun and looked around like he wasn't aware of his surroundings.

"Heh, you're the cop! Aren't you supposed to be telling me what to do?" Jake sardonically chuckled.

"Former cop," Brad corrected trying to regain his wits, but was distracted by the thunderous footsteps which rattled his nerves with every step taken. "We'll have to find some way out of here. There's probably a back door down on the first floor, but with that thing running around, our chances of getting out are pretty slim!" he spoke hurriedly as he ducked down to avoid being spotted by the creature.

Jake looked out onto the floor and saw their stalker standing still and breathing heavily, probably not having spotted them yet. The dust had begun to slowly disperse and through obscured aisles, he managed to spot where numerous small, sharp items like nails, ball bearings, light bulbs and other small random items were kept, which could make good shrapnel.

He then spotted some buckets nearby and remembered the C-4 explosives and detonator he carried as part of Giles' demolitions kit, along with four remaining hand grenades.

"Come on, I think I might have an idea as to how we can stop this thing. Just come with me, do what I say, and keep your head low!" Jake ordered the ex-cop, who sat there with a bewildered look, obviously not used to being ordered around by an "ordinary civilian." Nevertheless, he slowly nodded his head and began to follow.

The two men quietly made their way back to the lower floor and ducked behind displays and shelves until they reached the aisle Jake was looking for.

Making sure the coast was clear, he spoke to the ex-cop, "Alright, I'm planning a big bang that's going to send this steroid-addled freak on a one way trip straight to the moon. I'm going to need to make some extra shrapnel and gather my explosives together. I want you to distract that freak if it comes anywhere near me."

Brad was nearly knocked backwards by the idea and had to force back a blurted reply, "Are you crazy? Me…distracting that thing! That thing will rip me limb by limb if it finds me! Please tell me you have a backup plan."

Jake shook his head, "It's either that or we try the front door, where that undead Jolly Green Giant wannabe is waiting for us. You say that thing is after S.T.A.R.S. members, right? Then that makes you the perfect bait."

The ex-cop continued to stare at him in disbelief, opening his mouth to say something, but unable to verbalize anything.

"Look, you just have to run around for a few minutes and keep that thing away from me. Like you said, there should be a back door to this place. I promise I'll call when its time to go. For now, just keep it occupied and I'll do the rest."

The S.T.A.R.S. pilot couldn't believe what he was hearing, but the man was right. They probably didn't have much choice and if they didn't act quickly, they would both be dead.

With a silent nod, Brad crouch walked over behind a shelving unit full of vacuums and peeked his head over towards the entrance.

The creature was gone!

The pilot forced himself to hold back an obscenity and quietly peeked around another corner to find nothing once more.

"S.T.A.R.S.!!!"

The ragged voice called out and heavy footsteps moved closer and closer to his direction. Everything shook around him and moving as quickly and as silently as he could, he dove behind a parked riding lawn mower on display and then scuttled behind another shelf. He could sense the brute was still close and tracking the human as if it were sniffing him out. Stopping abruptly, the monster let out a mighty roar that nearly shattered the glass fixtures within the store.

Brad let out a small whimper and clamped his hands over his ears. He knew he would scream aloud if he heard all of the creature's battle cry. This time, he had to stay alive, not just for his own sake, but for the sake of another human being as well.

The Nemesis creature stalked down the aisles in search of the S.T.A.R.S. member it had encountered earlier in that back lot. It was programmed to be the perfect killing machine and its first assigned task was to locate and eliminate the surviving members still within the city. Complete descriptions of each survivor had been implanted into the monstrosity's brain so it would know exactly what it was looking for. Despite not having orders to hunt down regular civilians, the monster would kill indiscriminately and without remorse. Nobody who crossed its path was safe.

To kill was the only thought that ran through its mind.

"S.T.A.R.S." the creature uttered, reminding itself again of its intended targets, until it heard a sound that brought it to a sudden halt.

Metal upon metal filled the air as small sharp objects were poured into tin buckets.

Could it be that S.T.A.R.S. member from earlier?

"S.T.A.R.S.!!!"

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"Shit!" Jake muttered as he heard the battle cry of the pursuing monster. He could tell by the loudness of the creature's heavy footsteps that it was only a few aisles away and would probably break into a run at any moment.

Several screws and nails still lay on the floor in front of him and he quickly scooped up as much as he could with his gloved hands. Three buckets sat before him, all stacked to the top with miscellaneous metallic objects and the glass of smashed light fixtures he had broken.

"S.T.A.R.S.!!!"

"Gotta go," he whispered quietly before grabbing hold of the buckets and running down the aisle, most of the contents already spilling out. He had to reach the back room, where several gas canisters were kept. There, he could set up his trap for the monster.

"_Time to put what Buster showed me to use," _he said to himself.

CRASH!!!

The monster had spotted him and knocked over an entire shelving unit with a powerful backhand, breaking into a sprint and hot on his tail.

"Fuck!" he cursed, feeling his adversary gaining ground. Despite the hitman's above average speed for a man of his size, the eight foot tall behemoth seemingly moved with the speed of a cheetah, plowing through carts, crates, displays, and anything else standing in its way like a battle tank to get at its unknown target.

"Come on, almost there!" Jake said as he skidded around a corner and spotted a back door labeled "No Admittance, Employees Only." A smile crept across his face as he ran, trying to keep the buckets as full as he possibly could. Like some sort of sixth sense suddenly kicked on inside his brain, he could somehow sense the creature drawing back its tree trunk-like arm.

The Nemesis roared as it rear back and threw a powerful punch, which the hired gun would duck under, driving its fist through an aluminum shelving unit. Its arm was now stuck and it temporarily halted to shake it off.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Jake heard the explosion of gunshots as he reached the back door and turned to see Brad firing into the stalker's back. With its intended target once again in its sights, the brute now set out after the S.T.A.R.S. member. He quietly thanked the man for buying him some extra time.

With a mighty heave, the hitman tackled the door, wincing slightly as its bar embedded in his hip, and found himself in a storage room full of flammable canisters, just as he had expected.

Straight ahead were three particularly large canisters used for heating entire houses and knew right away this would be the spot. Placing the buckets in strategic positions, he removed the C-4 from the demo kit and began setting things up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Stay away you freak!" Brad cried, firing over his shoulder at the monster as he attempted to run at the same time.

The monster chasing him took in all the bullets as if they were made of clay and continued its relentless pursuit, swinging its fist and sending a flower pot flying into the air, forcing the ex-pilot to duck. He continued firing away until his clip ran dry.

"No!" he hissed repeatedly as he fumbled around his pockets for an extra clip, finally feeling the cool surface of one before he was forced to duck under a clothesline from his pursuer and fell to the ground.

The ex-cop screamed as the monster stood over him and looked deep into his eyes with its own soulless white eye.

"S.T.A.R.S.!!!"

The beast stood above him and raised its right hand with fingers outstretched. Skin around its wrist began convulsing and with a sickening tear, a purple tentacle shot out from its arm and wiggled in the air like an uncoiled snake.

"Brad!"

Jake's voice rang through the air, snapping the ex-S.T.A.R.S. officer back to his senses. Able to move again, he felt around and grasped the clip that lay only inches away from him. The tentacle shot down and struck the floor next to him, just as he rolled out of the way at the last second.

"Fuck off freak!" Brad shouted defiantly and squeezed the trigger, emptying an entire clip into the monster's chest and face, splattering purple blood all around him.

Nemesis roared again and brought its fist down, striking the tiled floor and leaving a pothole where its fist had connected.

"I'm coming!" Brad called out to Jake as he scampered back to his feet, but was halted by the creature's icy hand gripping the back of his vest. He didn't even have the time to cry out as the brute turned him around so he again looked directly into its hideous face.

"S.T.A.R.S.!" the behemoth growled as it brought its tentacle-bearing hand up to the man's face.

All Brad could do now was squeeze his eyes shut and think of all that he would miss out on now that his life was about to be taken away from him at this very moment.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Powerful gunshots erupted, followed by the monster's exasperated cry. A second later, the former pilot was released and fell to the floor with a light thud.

"What?" he asked to no one in particular as he slowly opened his eyes.

Jake stood before him, reloading his magnum with a look of grim defiance etched into his features. The creature had turned to face him and began walking towards him with long, powerful strides.

"Come get some!" he dared the creature and fired a round into its forehead, splattering oily purple blood all over its face, "Brad now! We have to go!" he shouted with a motion towards the back door.

The hitman's shot did not kill the creature, but did temporarily stun it and pissed it off even more than it had been before. With a new surge of adrenaline, the creature extended its arms and threw its head back to let out another massive roar before making its next charge.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Brad shouted as he watched the creature take a magnum round to the cranium and keep coming back for more.

"Don't worry about it, just get moving!" Jake demanded as he fired a few more rounds into the creature's chest, knocking it back a step with every connecting shot, "Sorry pal, don't hunt what you can't kill!" the hitman smirked before firing a round into the pursuer's head that sent its blood gushing into the air like a geyser. The monster could only cry out in frustration as it fought to stop the bleeding, looking up with its one eye almost glowing in rage.

"Yes, come get me you son of a bitch!" Jake taunted as he ran through the back door.

Nemesis was angry, very angry. It was being outsmarted by a couple of ordinary humans that had managed to evade it for so long, especially one of its intended targets playing hard to get. All it really wanted to do now was get its hands on the ex-S.T.A.R.S. member and crush its skull into dust.

Letting out a small roar, it charged for the back door where it had just seen the mysterious individual in the black trench coat that had pissed it off with those rounds fired into its face.

Not only would it kill the ex-cop, but also exact some revenge upon its newfound adversary as well.

Bringing up its fist, the B.O.W. knocked the door from its hinges and barged into the room ready to kill.

Strangely enough, there was nothing to be found.

The monster had found itself in a storage room full of numerous gas canisters and other useless objects. It quieted itself down and moved methodically around the room, the only sound being made by its heavy footsteps, which it could not disguise.

Stalking around the room, it happened across a ventilation cover that had been removed.

BEEP! BEEP!

The beep of a radio-controlled device came from behind the creature and it turned around to find several pounds of C-4 set up next to three large canisters in the center of the room.

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KA-BOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!

The Tool It Up superstore vanished into a large ball of reddish-orange flames as the explosives detonated, engulfing several small buildings and vehicles parked nearby, creating another chain reaction that also swallowed up nearby zombies who had been wandering about aimlessly.

Jake and Brad slowly peeked out of the deli they had hidden in across the street, almost entranced by the massive inferno before them, following all the way up to endless pillars of black smoke and the bright orange embers which dotted them.

Brad stared worriedly at the center of the blinding blaze and then looked over to Jake, "Do you think we killed it?"

The hitman stood tall, pleased with his work, "Should have. I detonated enough explosives to incinerate an entire herd of elephants. There should be no way in Hell that thing could have survived that blast."

"Oh god I hope so," Brad sighed as they stepped outside, "Well it was nice meeting you Mr. Smith, but I've still gotta find Jill. She's out there somewhere, probably being mobbed by those freaks as we speak. I have to find her and get her out of this place as soon as possible," he said as he began to walk away.

"Hey, are you sure you wanna go by yourself?" Jake suddenly asked, surprising even himself. _"Yeah, why am I asking? I'm not supposed to be here to help others!"_

Perhaps deep down, maybe part of him had begun to feel bad for the insecure ex-cop, especially seeing after what he had to go through with that murderous behemoth.

Stopping himself, he turned to face Jake one last time, "I would, but this is something I have to do alone. I have to show the others that I'm not completely worthless. Thanks for your help though. If it weren't for you, I probably would have died back there."

Strangely, the hitman found himself smiling at the ex-cop, "No problem man, survivors have to watch each other's backs. You take care of yourself!" he said, giving the departing man a quick two finger salute.

Brad nodded in acknowledgment and began jogging down the street, vanishing into darkness.

The sudden darkness made Jake look up to the sky, where a cluster of charcoal-colored clouds were quickly closing in, adding even more to an already sinister environment. It would only be a matter of time before thunder and lighting would probably follow, along with a heavy downpour.

"_Now to resume my own mission and bring in that bastard Birkin's head," _the hitman said to himself, withdrawing his assault rifle and making his way down the street.

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"Just stay where you are," Nicholai said to himself as he steadied his aim.

The nameless man in black stood alone in the street outside the freshly demolished hardware superstore, caught in the sights of the Umbrella supervisor's PSG-1 sniper rifle.

He still had no clue who the man was, noting that the techs back at the company's main headquarters were very good about getting information to their field operatives at the drop of a hat, but for some reason this time around they had been taking their sweet time.

"_They're probably mobilizing everything they've got for the P.R. nightmare that's about to come," _Nicholai thought to himself, knowing by now the public was probably starting to ask questions regarding this mountain community's sudden enforced seclusion from the rest of the world. _"Only reason I can think of right now,"_ he told himself.

Nevertheless, whoever this man was, he was one tough, skilled individual if he was able to survive two separate encounters with the Nemesis. In the supervisor's mind, this meant he possessed a good chance for making it out of this city alive.

For the sake of his company, as well as his own future, he could not allow that to happen.

Lining up his sights, he readied himself for a shot that would catch the man clean between the eyes.

And then a feral, ragged hiss sounded from behind.

Throwing his rifle to the ground, the U.B.C.S. sergeant whirled around and withdrew his Sigpro sidearm, only to be met by the skinless form of another Re3.

Sensing the Russian in front of it, the creature shot its tongue out; sounding like a whip was being cracked as it fully extended its lance-like appendage and left a deep crack in the wall behind where the human had been standing.

Wasting no time, Nicholai fired away at the slimy beast repeatedly, striking its sinewy hide several times before it was finally knocked flat onto its back. Not dead yet, it quickly sprung back onto all fours, only to be put down by a bullet to its exposed brain.

Grunting in annoyance, the supervisor quickly scooped up his sniper rifle and scanned the area through his scope for any signs of the black-clad man, only to find he had long since disappeared.

"Damn it!" he growled aloud and kicked the Re3's dead form hard in its ribs. Breathing heavily, it took some time to finally settle himself down before he spoke again.

"I will find you, whoever you are, and when I do, it will be the end of the road for you and anybody else who tries to squeal."

Author's Note: And so ends the dreaded Chapter 13! For those of you who don't know any word of Spanish, "puta" means "bitch" in Spanish, yes I got down and dirty in a non-English capacity for once! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

As always, read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	15. Ch 14: A Good Deed

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Yes the Metal Harbinger has returned for another round! I've been a little slow lately because I've been playing "Saints Row 1" and have been having a total blast with it, but now I once again switch gears from blasting virtual gangbangers (and cops, and civilians too!) to blasting the virtual living dead.

Until then, read and review! Now on with the story!

Chapter 14: A Good Deed

The rumble of thunder called out ominously from above, the threat of rainfall sure to follow, yet those thoughts were droned out by the endless moans of the zombies afoot.

Jake kept a cautious eye on his would-be attackers as he passed the south entrance of Gentry Drive, keeping his rifle ready for battle.

The street was already blocked off by several wrecked, bullet-riddled police cars that still had their lights flashing, covered in the blood of both police officers who had fought in vain to delay their onslaught, and the zombies that had been killed before they could reach them. A S.W.A.T. van had attempted to ram through the barricade, the blood coating its windshield probably belonging to the driver. Nevertheless, it helped keep the walking cadavers trapped on the other side.

_"Still can't underestimate them," _Jake said to himself, remembering those "super" crimson zombies. He also took notice of how most of these zombies were wearing police uniforms and wondered if there were still any other police officers left alive in the city. _"Never thought I'd actually care, it's funny in its own dark, demented way," _he thought as he continued forth, leaving them to their sad fate.

There hadn't been much activity as the hitman moved further away from the destroyed hardware superstore. Every now and then, he would look over his shoulder to see the pillar of smoke towering over the city, adding to the blackness of an already darkening sky, he could even still hear the crackling of flames from where he now stood.

_"As long as that one-eyed brute is six feet under, I'm happy for now," _he thought as he carefully surveyed some cars he was passing by, on alert for anything that may try to leap out after him. _"Damn it, I've gotta stop thinking about that freak."_

Passing the pileup, he eventually happened across another burning building, this one nearly on the verge of collapsing without a functional fire department around to battle the blaze. Come to think of it, aside from that R.P.D. chopper, he hadn't seen any fire department, news or medical helicopters in the sky above. It was apparent how far the city had descended into complete chaos when none of those essential services were out and about.

Normally he wasn't one to care, but under these circumstances Jake couldn't help but not feel some traces of pity.

_"So many lives lost…thanks to Umbrella," _he thought as he remembered those who had perished. A colder, indifferent part of his mind tried to tell him that he had to forget about these random acquaintances and focus on the mission at hand, but a warmer, more empathetic side made him think of people close to him that he had lost in the past and began to compare some of his own personal experiences alongside those who had lost just as much as he had over the past few hellacious days.

"Get away!!!" a voice called out from above, followed by the repeated booms of a shotgun.

Looking across the street from the burning building, Jake watched as a silhouetted figure moved rapidly about on the roof of another apartment complex, the muzzle flashes of the man's shotgun briefly illuminating his figure, yet he was too far up to make out any discernable features.

The same hollow moans answered the question as to what was attacking him and the hitman could only watch as the shadowy man was finally caught by his assailants and struggled violently against them. An unmistakable ripping noise followed and with nowhere else to go, the stranger seemingly accepted his fate and fell backwards as one of the zombies still clung to him.

Jake could only watch helplessly as the man fell to the ground, striking the pavement with a sickening crack that even made him flinch. The zombie landed next to him with an audible splat as it landed head first, its entire cranium destroyed upon impact. It didn't end there as another zombie who had also been in pursuit of the human, stepped off of the ledge and fell after its prey, landing inches away from the two bodies.

"Damn," the hitman muttered, knowing there was nothing more he could do and kept moving.

_"There's a lot of shit I can't do," _he thought to himself, surprised he was finding himself more worried about the safety of others than his assigned task of eliminating William Birkin.

Perhaps this incident was finally reaching into his psyche, but not in a way that was making him "crack." Instead, he was beginning to feel different emotions towards any other possible survivors, ones of a far more redeeming nature.

He had never been one for murdering innocents, as it conflicted with his own moral code, but there had been those who had become caught in the crossfire, ones he hadn't even bothered to try saving and ended up dying indirectly as a result of his actions.

Maybe this incident had been a wakeup call for him, one that had him wanting to feel more heroic.

_"What the hell am I saying? I'm no hero," _he told himself, _"If any of these people knew who I really was, they'd be calling the cops at the drop of a hat. I'm too far gone by this point; I've killed too many people to go back. Maybe I should be laughing at myself for ever thinking such a thing. Hell, more than one innocent bystander has died because of me," _his mind repeated, wanting to hammer the point straight to home.

He found himself thinking back to a job he had performed for the Irish-American O'Bannon mob a little over two years ago when he and his friend Fox, along with their marksman associate Hawk and another guy named Rietz, had been assigned with the task of wiping out a street gang called The Rascalz. They had been causing trouble for the mob's businesses and needed to be dealt with immediately.

The Rascalz's leadership had congregated at a small motel called the Stargazer Inn, where they had apparently been trying to make peace with another gang called The Sons of Rasta in an attempt to launch a cooperative strike against the O'Bannons.

Seeing this as a perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, the quartet launched an all out bloody assault that had succeeded in eliminating the assigned targets, but also several guests who had been caught in the crossfire as they curiously stepped out to view the carnage at hand. He couldn't recall exactly, but Jake had a gut feeling he might have accidentally hit one of the hotel workers who may have been rushing for a payphone in an attempt to dial 911.

Eventually, the police would show up and quickly gunned down both Rietz and their getaway driver. With a heavily-armed S.W.A.T. team on their trail, Jake himself was forced to take the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot, almost immediately running over a woman who had been out for a late night jog and then speeding through a road construction zone, flattening two crew members who barely had any time to react. In addition, the police would suffer several casualties thanks to Hawk's sharp-shooting skills.

"_Yeah, some 'hero' I'd make," _Jake told himself as his thoughts shifted back to the present.

In the distance he could make out another mass of humans turned into shadows of their former selves, a small group kneeling around another dead body, judging by the grisly ripping noises, while a few others stood around dumbly in wait for the next living human that would catch their scent.

The hired gun knew he could easily bypass the zombies by ducking into either a nearby alley or building, but he also had to remind himself that he was running around in circles with no direction and no idea of where to locate his target.

"_Why bother making a mountain out of a molehill?" _he asked himself, letting his rifle hang limply at his side as he withdrew his sword, _"Besides, I could use the exercise."_

Jake cautiously approached a bald-headed man in a bloodstained urban jersey, who swayed back and forth with his head lowered, oblivious to the black-clad man approaching him and furthermore, the glistening blade held in his hand.

It was only when he was a few steps away that the zombie finally shot its head up, but by then, the hired gun was twirling his body with his blade extended, slicing the former human's head off in one fell swoop.

Some other nearby zombies overheard the commotion and began their shambling gait towards the living human, arms outstretched and expressing their murderous intent through ravenous snarls.

With an upward swing, Jake took another zombie's head off and then jammed his sword into the throat of another assailant, letting the former human spasm before going limp and finally pulling the blade out. A third zombie had gotten close enough to attempt a swipe with its jagged, yellowed fingernails, but the hitman brought his sword up to deflect the blow and again spun his body, performing a downward slash and slicing through vital tendons that kept the monster on its feet. The attacker falling to the ground with a wet thump, the hired gun was there to finish it off with a stomp to its neck.

"_These things are a pushover compared to everything else I've encountered in this shithole," _Jake told himself as he drove his blade into the gut of a lanky man wearing a Raccoon City Sharks football t-shirt. Congealed blood squirted out with every attempted slash on the impaled zombie's part as it struggled to reach the "fresh meat" before it, but the hitman used his long leg to keep the monster at bay as he placed his foot on its chest and pulled the sword out, then spinning his body to perform a spinning heel kick that sent the zombie flying full force into a nearby brick wall. A wet smacking sound followed as its skull connected and it gradually sagged to the ground, a red smear following as it collapsed at an awkward angle.

By now the feasting zombies had taken notice of the skirmish and slowly rose to their feet, chunks of flesh and intestines spilling out of their mouths as they now turned their attention to the hitman.

"Too many," Jake huffed and pulled out his Beretta, carefully lining up his sights before firing a round into the face of a woman in bloodied surgical scrubs. The other zombies continued pressing forth, ignorant of the second death of one of their own, driven by the never-ending hunger that had claimed each of them.

Aside from the undead woman he had just eliminated, he counted six others as part of the "dinner party," but now his shot had attracted another small group that staggered into view from a nearby alley and another lone zombie who had pushed open the remnants of a camera store's front door.

Noticing the new dilemma, Jake whirled around and ran back a couple of paces. He knew he wouldn't have enough time to take all of them down even with both guns drawn as he would eventually have to reload, even too much for his shotgun and magnum.

"_Damn, I've gotta stop getting myself into these kind of situations," _the hired gun said to himself as he reached into his coat for another hand grenade, _"These bad boys aren't that easy to find."_

Pulling the pin, he chucked the grenade into the mass of walking cadavers, a small, but lethal explosion taking down a majority of the attackers. Withdrawing both Berettas, he then took down the remaining zombies in a rapid fire flurry.

With the final monster having fallen, Jake stopped to take another breather, looking at this as another small victory in an already full-scale war.

"_At least these things are stupid," _he told himself, knowing how ordinary human opponents would have been wise enough to dive out of the way, or gutsy enough to even try picking up the grenade and tossing it back at him. It was a further reminder how every single bullet counted in a situation like this and how he could not afford to be wasteful.

Even as they lay in smoking heaps, Jake watched the mass of bodies carefully as he stepped around them, taking the time to also avoid the blood pooling around the bodies as he still had no idea if it would affect him in any way or not.

As he moved towards the end of the street, he happened across a small sitting area and in the center, a large sign which indicated several prominent buildings located nearby. Carefully scanning the list, one name in particular jumped out at him.

"_Margaret Cox Public Library, 1 Block East on Cox Blvd."_

Jake remembered that the city's public library had been set up as an emergency shelter by the R.P.D., but yet he had to wonder if it was still a safe haven at all, judging by what he had seen happen at the First National Bank with his own two eyes earlier on in the day.

Still, there was something that had him wanting to check the place out and see if there was still anybody alive in that building.

"Guess it would be worth a try," he whispered to himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The walk to Cox Boulevard had been uneventful and much faster than he had expected, until Jake heard the chorus of moans and knew trouble was afoot.

Again readying his assault rifle, the hitman hugged the wall of a nearby building and slowly peeked his head out, only to find the aftermath of another massacre.

Several squad cars were parked outside the gated compound which housed the library; all covered in blood and bullet holes with their lights still flashing. Tons of bodies littered the pavement around the barricade, all torn apart by what looked like automatic fire and shotgun rounds. However, the moans came from within the confines of the barricade.

A small group of zombies milled about inside the enclosed area, a majority of them wearing the uniforms of R.P.D. officers, all covered from head to toe in dried blood. Nearby, a car had crashed through the iron fence and even more walking cadavers could be seen loitering, their ghastly features made visible by the flames of a small fire burning outside the compound.

The Margaret Cox Public Library itself had once been a stately complex that resembled one of the many antebellum Southern plantations Jake could recall seeing pictures of in books about American Civil War history. Now, it was a shell of its former greatness, just another victim of the plague.

Its once immaculate exterior was now drenched in the blood of countless victims and most of its lower level windows had been smashed, some shot out and others by the furniture and other large objects tossed through them, as citizens had either struggled to find shelter or escape from whatever kind of slaughterhouse the now former institution of learning had become.

"Am I too late?" the hitman asked aloud as he quietly studied the ransacked building from a distance. He wasn't too surprised by what he had found; judging by the rate the T-Virus had overtaken the town seemingly almost overnight as far as he knew. _"I'd be more surprised to find anything that hasn't been touched."_

Jake continued to observe the building, shifting his focus towards the upper floors for any signs of life, a part of him hoping against the worst.

Out of the blackness within, a series of brief, brilliant flashes caught his attention. They could only come from a firearm he thought to himself, the gunshots being faint pops from where he stood.

Carefully watching the zombies in the distance, the hired gun bolted across the street and took cover behind a smashed up jeep, straining his vision for any sights of movement. A couple more flashes filled the darkened corridor, enabling him to make out more than one silhouetted figure dashing across. They had to be ordinary humans, they moved with too much of a purpose unlike their lumbering pursuers.

"_Plus zombies are too stupid to use guns," _he reminded himself, noting how the crimson-skinned zombies moved much faster than the ordinary ones, but still didn't have the intelligence for firearms, at least from what he had seen so far.

Jake now started to wonder how many people were trapped inside that place and how long they had managed to survive thus far.

Again, those feelings he experienced earlier were coming back to him, the concern he felt for the safety of other survivors trapped in this nightmare and their odds of survival.

He then thought in particular about Brad Vickers and their recent brush with that one-eyed giant from earlier on. Judging by the ex-S.T.A.R.S. member's visible cowardice and general ineptitude in the heat of battle, he could easily sense that the bumbling man would have died in that back lot had it not been for his timely intervention. Now, he was beginning to wonder if he even should have allowed that man to head off on his own like that.

"_Jesus Jake, what the hell are you thinking?" _the voice cried in his head, _"You can't let yourself become attached to these people. Remember? If they die on you, you'll just grieve their loss and it will bring you down in the end."_

The conflict raged deep within Jake Cavanaugh's mind and was far beyond ignoring.

A more emotional part the hitman thought he had long suppressed was beginning to take over him, one that reminded him of the people who had died all around him.

"_Nobody deserves to die like this," _he began telling himself, _"Nor do they deserve to become walking, soulless corpses," _he thought, still staring at the zombies. By now, some of them had noticed him and reached hopelessly through the iron bars trying to get at him, blood dripping from their jagged nails as they moaned in hunger.

Part of him cried out for redemption and he honestly didn't know why. If he were going to be stuck in this nightmare, he would need to perform a good deed or else it would continue to gnaw away at him.

"_Maybe this would be it," _he told himself as he again searched the upper floors for any signs of life.

"Birkin will have to wait," Jake spoke as he slung the M4A1 over his shoulder and now pulled out the SPAS-12 he hadn't used in quite a while.

Needing to find an alternate path inside, the hired gun remembered the car that had crashed through the fence. It was parked at an awkward angle that would thankfully make it impossible for the zombies to catch him where he stood now. However, smoke still billowed out from underneath the hood and would obscure his vision. He would have to be quick on his feet.

Breaking into a run, Jake quickly pulled himself onto the trunk of the car and took a few large steps across its hood, leaping before he could step onto the cracked windshield and launching his muscular figure as far as the physics would allow him to fly and landed with a grunt.

As it had been with the barricade outside, bodies littered the area around him, all of them either shot up or chewed up. Again, most of them were cops who had perished while trying to hold down one of their last bastions, numerous types of guns clenched in their cold, dead hands.

The stench of burnt flesh also lingered in the deathly air and he turned to find several charred carcasses resting around the remnants of trees and shrubs, their fires having long since extinguished. He figured somebody must have been armed with some form of incendiary device to pull off such a task.

Jake listened as the zombies approached him from behind and began making his way around towards the front doors. Along the way, he observed the smashed windows, watching out for both survivors and any threats. Strangely enough, he seemed to notice wisps of what looked like spider webbing swaying from the shards of glass, looking much larger than anything he had ever seen from a normal spider.

Rounding the corner of the historic building, the hitman encountered more staggering zombies, who quickly sprung to life as he stepped into view.

Pumping his shotgun, Jake blew the head off an overweight man in a bloodied R.P.D. uniform and then brought his stock up to knock down another man in casual clothes, before placing a foot on his chest and painting the cobbled path with his brain matter. With another shot, a petite woman was disemboweled, her upper torso clinging to life and crawling after the hitman.

"_I've gotta stop wasting my time and get to those people," _he reminded himself as he was approached by a man in a tattered S.W.A.T. uniform. With another pump of his SPAS-12, Jake fired a shot into the undead man's chest and knocked him backwards onto the blood-soaked grass, but had no doubt survived thanks to his heavy armor. Firing a few more blasts into more attackers, he finally reached the library's front steps, bounding upward two steps at a time.

Jake threw himself across the marble patio and skidded to a halt, sticking a hand out so he wouldn't ram his face into the massive oak double doors. They only shuddered beneath his weight, sending a shockwave of pain through his wrist as it nearly twisted from the impact.

"Damn," the hitman grunted aloud, _"Must be blocked from the other side," _he thought as he turned to see the zombies starting to gain ground upon him. There had to be another way he could get inside.

A loud groan sounded next to him and Jake turned to find another zombie marching towards him, this one clad in U.B.C.S. gear and riddled with bullets.

The former human nearly had its scabbed fingers on Jake's shoulders, when the hitman quickly kicked him back against the doors and then grabbed onto its flak vest, tossing him into some of its fellow zombies, knocking them backward like dominos.

Desperate to escape, Jake looked over towards the direction the zombified U.B.C.S. operative came from and noticed the smashed window it must have climbed out of. For now, it would be his only salvation and he rushed over to it, knocking some of the remaining shards out of the way so he wouldn't get cut and then pulled himself through.

Now inside the library, the hitman looked around for anything he could find to block the window.

"_Come on, think damn it!" _his mind screamed as his head darted left and right for any large objects in the darkened hallway.

A short distance away, he was able to make out a bookshelf and began pushing it as quickly as he could, books tumbling out with every shove he made.

Just as the hitman was passing one of the windows, a blonde haired woman who had had most of her face torn away threw herself against the window closest to him, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. It was a small miracle the window didn't give way right there, but it told him that he needed to hurry up.

"_Just a little closer," _he thought as he approached the window, just inches away when a man in a soiled hospital gown reached in with his arms extended, futilely reaching for the oncoming human. Reaching for the closest weapon he could, Jake raised his M4A1 and fired a three shot burst into the man's face, knocking him back out through the window.

More zombies began to appear in the windows, staining them with bloody hand smears and yellowish drool, pounding away and shaking their fragile surfaces with every slap and every push.

Finally, Jake managed to get the bookshelf positioned, but knew it wouldn't last long as sharpened nails grated across its surface and more former townsfolk began pressing against, wanting to get at him.

Rushing down the hall and rounding a corner, the hitman heard the shatter of glass as he reached another door and slammed it shut behind him. Looking to his left and noticing an antique storage chest, he pushed it in front of the door and then seeing some heavy looking boxes with it, piled them on top of the chest.

"Fuck," was all Jake could mutter as he exhaled deeply, raising his rifle defensively and keeping it trained on the barricaded door, listening as the moans of the zombies got closer, sounding like they were coming from all directions. The door rocked briefly as one of the undead managed to throw itself against, but thankfully was unable to do any more.

Keeping the rifle raised, he remained rooted in his current position until he was sure the door wouldn't be broken down and only then did he let his shoulders sag and take in his surroundings.

He was in a dimly-lit office cluttered with seemingly thousands of dusty old books and plenty of other boxes, leaving barely enough space for those who had occupied the near claustrophobic space. Carefully scanning the desks, a simple white paper heavily stained by long-dried blood jumped out at him, demanding his attention.

Picking up the paper and struggling to make out some of the words covered by small dark red flecks, he found it to be a memo for one of the employees:

_Henry,_

_The secret passage leading to the attic is once again accessible now that the lock has been repaired._

_In order to access the lock, you must first find the secret numeric keypad, which is hidden behind the "Victory Lake at Sunset" painting located above the fireplace on the third floor. The access code is '1857' after the year when Fort Raccoon was first established._

_Once the code has been input, you must then find the book 'Emperor's Tales, Vol. 17,' which is actually a fake, and pull it out._

_The book itself is located on the shelf in the northeastern most corner of the room, which should then open to reveal the passage hidden behind it._

_Mr. Scolari has been getting paranoid with all the recent attacks occurring around town lately and is going to great lengths to make sure everybody knows about this if any sort of 'attack' takes place upon the grounds. I personally think he is just blowing steam, but he'll probably fire me right on the spot if I don't let you know, seeing as you're new around here and everything._

_Hope this helps nonetheless,_

_Cornell_

"Damn right it's going to help," Jake said as he folded up the note and placed it in his pocket. Approaching the opposite door, he listened intently for any sounds before sticking his gun out into the open and then stepping out.

A small sitting room was behind the next door, ransacked far beyond the recognition of its former elegance. Most of the furniture and other antique decorations had been overturned and peppered by gunfire, signs of another small battle having taken place.

As it was with practically every other inch he had explored of the city, bodies were present. Near the corner of the room, another police officer had been viciously torn apart and an empty shotgun lay just inches away from his outstretched hands. Another man in street clothes had been shot up from behind and sprawled over onto his side, milky white eyes staring off into nothingness and dried blood staining his lips. Lying a few feet away was a woman, who stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others.

Unlike her male counterparts, the woman bore no visible bites or scratches inflicted by zombies, nor any other kind of damage. At least she didn't appear to bear any signs of T-Virus infection. Her skin though, was the same sickly pale he had seen with the zombies, and both her eyes and mouth were rimmed in dark blue. It was also evident she had frothed from the mouth before dying.

Having studied medical textbooks in the past, Jake concluded that she displayed the symptoms of poisoning, but from what?

"_Do I even want to know?" _he mentally asked himself, but knew it probably wasn't far away. He had developed a habit of learning things he didn't want to in Raccoon City.

Rising back to his feet, the hitman continued his march, knowing those citizens still needed to be rescued.

Another corridor awaited him as he continued his mission, barely able to see thanks to the lack of functioning lights and darkening skies outside. Only the eerie blowing of wind filled the nearly pitch black space and a slight breeze ruffled his sweaty hair and tattered coat.

A deafening boom suddenly shattered the building tension and a flash of lightning lit up the corridor, temporarily blinding Jake like a flashbang. It all happened so fast, but it left him placing his hands over his ears to block out the following ringing and squeezing his eyes shut. As he removed his hands, the rhythmic tapping of raindrops followed, creating a brief sense of calm.

The crash of thunder had also stirred another occupant as a low moan was barely heard over the cadence of rainfall. Again reaching for his shotgun, Jake eagerly switched on the attached flashlight and pointed it forth, expecting to see another zombie come shambling towards him, but saw nothing.

Instead, the moaning continued and left him with an itchy trigger finger. Wanting to find the source and eliminate the threat, the hitman moved hastily down the hall and rounded the corner, dumbfounded by what he was to discover.

His flashlight shone into the scabbed face of yet another infected denizen, who lunged hungrily at him, yet could not move due to the sticky material which impeded its movement.

The zombie before him was cocooned by what he could only describe as spider webbing, very large webbing that couldn't have come from any regular-sized spider he had ever seen. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie he had seen as a teenager, one involving giant bug-like creatures that were almost similar to those ones he had fought against alongside the U.B.C.S.

"_I wonder if whoever created these freaks was a fan of the 'Abominations' series themselves," _Jake thought in morbid humor as he removed his sword and lopped off the trapped zombie's head, _"They had 'rip-off' written all over them."_

Thoughts of the giant cocoon and what could have created it dominated his mind as he came to the end of the corridor, where another set of ancient double doors had been split open from the middle and swayed slightly from what hinges still held them upright.

Stepping into the building's foyer, looking more cavernous than grand thanks to the poor lighting, the hitman did whatever he could to minimize the noise created as he moved about. The only illumination came from the light creeping in through the nearby windows and the narrow swath of the shotgun's light, outlining the numerous tables, bookcases and other furniture enough for Jake to find a path through the darkness.

Blood coated practically everything in the spacious area, judging by what his light had shown him, and the coppery undertones it left, combined with the stench of rotten meat, became far too overpowering. Jake wanted to cover his nose and attempt to block out the rancid assault on his nostrils, yet his instincts kept his hands glued to the shotgun.

"_Christ is there really this much blood?" _he asked himself, _"There's gotta be enough here for a hundred people in here alone," _his mind told him as he observed the blood covering the front desk and the nearby staircases, the once snaking trails having long ago dried. _"Or have I finally gone insane and think I'm seeing this much blood? Could everything really be the way it's always been and I'm just imagining all this?"_

For once he was beginning to question his decision to play "Good Samaritan" as he stared towards the front entrance, which had been heavily barricaded by random furniture.

"_Nice going Jake, you're going to get yourself killed playing the hero you know you could never be," _he again scolded himself, until he felt heavy droplets falling onto his shoulder.

"What now?" the hitman impatiently grumbled as he attempted to wipe the lumpy substance away, only to pull it away and find his fingerless glove coated with fresh blood.

"Shit!" he hissed as he raised the light upward and caught a clear glimpse of the ceiling.

Bodies were everywhere – men, women and children of all ages – all held in place by what had to be more spider webbing no doubt. All of their heads poked out from beneath the slimy, organic material, along with a few arms here and there, all displaying deep gashes. They had no doubt been dead for hours judging by the smell, yet blood still dripped freely from emptied eye sockets and opened mouths.

"Goddamn it!" Jake cried aloud. The horrific collage of human destruction had been too much even for the normally ice cold hitman and for the first time, he could no longer hold the bile back, his stomach's contents forced out through his clenched lips in tiny spurts before he could finally open his mouth to let it all out in one massive heave. Everything flowed freely until he collapsed against the nearest table and exhaled heavily, ignoring the droplets that continued to dribble down the back of his coat.

Before he could utter another obscenity, a light humming noise came from above. Taking a couple deep breaths, Jake forced himself to look up towards the ceiling again, only to make out several shadows moving amongst the decaying clusters of flesh, standing welded to his current spot as one of the "shadows" fell from the ceiling after him.

It landed with a crash on the table in front of him, knocking the hitman backwards onto his ass. When he finally caught a glimpse of the monstrosity, he could only mutter in disbelief.

"Oh fuck no…oh fucking shit no!"

What appeared before Jake looked like an ordinary spider, except it was almost half the size of a compact car. Blood and other miscellaneous gunk coated its hairy black and yellow form. For a moment it studied him with a multitude of black beady eyes, almost as if sizing him up.

"I fucking hate bugs…" the hitman growled.

The mutated arachnid hissed at him, displaying its blade-like fangs, before readying its charge. Knowing something was about to happen, Jake quickly rolled to the side as the spider shot some kind of mist that collided with the floor and abruptly evaporated upon contact. He surmised it must have been poison, probably the same thing that got that woman back in the sitting room.

Finally willing himself to act, the hired gun raised his shotgun and fired a barrage of buckshot into the giant insect, managing to break off a few of its appendages. Pumping the gun again quickly, he opened fire and another massive chunk of flesh was ripped away from the monster's bulbous form, spraying green blood all over as well.

The monster could only shriek in pain and attempt a head on charge, but Jake fired another round into its exposed form and sent it flat on its back, flailing its many legs in an attempt to right itself up, but the hitman was there to answer with another blast that blew apart much of its head.

"_They had to throw in fucking spiders of all things…"_ the hired gun panted as he slowly backed himself away from the dead bug as green blood pooled beneath its bulky, shredded form.

He could recall how he used to terrorize his big sister with a fake rubber spider when he was a child, but then karma had come back to get him and he hated them ever since. The encounter made him think of when he was eight years old and how he got trapped in that abandoned mineshaft and found himself stuck in a small enclosed space with an entire swarm of spiders crawling all over his body for eight hours straight.

Initially displaying fear at the sight of a spider, over the years however the fear eventually turned to anger whenever he spotted them, reminding him of how severely his father had beaten him after his rescue for disobeying his orders to stay away from that mine. Whatever the case was, whenever he saw a spider now, he absolutely had to kill it if he was able to.

More humming noises sounded from around and Jake spun around to find another giant spider appearing from behind a bookshelf and another rapidly descending from one of the corners.

"And of course there can't be just one," Jake grunted and knowing he needed some quicker stopping power, pulled out the rapid fire M4A1.

With a mighty roar, the hired gun fired into the closest approaching spider, riddling it with a barrage of screaming metal and knocking it flat onto its back and crippling it long enough for him to run up and fire a fatal shot into its face.

The other arachnid was closing in fast and sounded as if it was about to spew some poisonous mist, until Jake opened fire, breaking off some of its extra limbs. Before he could fire the killing shot, his rifle clicked empty.

"Damn it!" the hired gun grunted, pulling himself over a partition to avoid the blast of poison the arachnid finally managed to spit out.

Rifling through his pockets for any spare magazines, Jake sighed in relief as he found an extra and quickly ejected the spent clip, slapping in the fresh one in fluid motion.

A loud hissing noise came from beside him and the hitman looked over to see yet another mutated spider hungrily approaching him, causing him to let out another startled yelp and depress the trigger, tearing the abomination's face apart like it had been shoved into a blender.

"Son of a bitch!" he blurted out, until the multiple footfalls reminded him one more of the creatures was afoot. "Just fucking die you freaks!" Jake shouted as he launched his salvo, filling the mutant's hide with plenty of fresh holes that left green blood gushing out like water through a filter until his clip ran empty.

Knowing he had expended his final clip for the M4A1, he tossed the empty rifle to the floor and made his way towards one of the nearby staircases, doing whatever he could to avoid breathing in the fumes emitted by the mutated bugs' dead bodies, not knowing whether they were toxic or not.

On the second level, Jake found more dead civilians, some of whom had fought for their lives before going down, judging by the blood-drenched melee weapons and emptied guns. Nearby, he found another one of those mutant spider carcasses, still smoldering. Whatever had killed it could not have been caused by one of those weapons he saw lying around.

Walking around towards the computer lab area, he found yet another spider, most of the hairy flesh having been seared away from this one's surface. Jake could immediately smell acid, also evidenced by the lingering chemical hiss as the substance had splattered onto some of the nearby desks and computers.

"Nothing here-" the hitman was remarking aloud, until his light shone upon the corpse of a man in a purple jacket that had an elaborate design of a Joker's face on the back like the kind one would find on a playing card. A shotgun lay just inches away from the man's body and upon closer inspection; Jake found some extra shells in the man's pockets, as well as an extra clip for his Beretta hidden within the man's jacket.

"Must've decided to 'have some fun' before I showed up," Jake said as he noticed the man was shot to death by what may have been a machine pistol. Lying near the stairs leading to the third floor, he found another man dressed in similar attire that had also been shot up, probably a friend of his.

Jake readied his shotgun and listened for any other sounds before continuing his ascension, eager to get away from the sight of all those bodies pinned against the foyer's ceiling. He could hear shambling footsteps and the sounds of ripping above him, telling him another battle was to follow.

Rushing up the stairs, the hitman found himself in another open area strewn with shredded corpses and a few zombies still standing over them, tearing through whatever was left of them.

Thankfully, none of their kills appeared to be fresh and once again, he began to feel the stings of hope that perhaps a few souls had managed to survive thus far.

"_Maybe they found that hidden passage," _Jake thought as he looked towards the back of the room and found the fireplace mentioned in the note, along with the vibrant painting above it, which had to be the aforementioned "Victory Lake at Sunset."

A loud moan came from his right and the hired gun turned to find a zombie in a ragged white dress shirt coming at him, close enough for him to raise his shotgun and pistol whip the former human with its stock. To spare himself the ammo, he quickly ran up and kicked the monster in the side of its head, snapping its neck and ending its threat.

With a loud boom, another zombie fell to the floor with its head obliterated and soon another would share the same fate. Moving at a calm, methodical pace, Jake continued firing at anything moving towards him. He wasn't one bit afraid of these zombies, knowing greater threats existed out there.

"_Don't know if I can say the same for those civvies," _he said to himself, knowing he would have to be on guard in case some of them had cracked already thanks to the combined threat of zombies and giant mutated spiders.

A once attractive woman with short, primped brunette hair and a soiled purple top approached the hired gun, followed closely by an overweight man in what was once a colorful Hawaiian shirt. Next to them was a heavy-looking bookcase that looked as if it had been loosened from the support rack behind it. Taking advantage, Jake used his long leg to push the woman backward and yanked away at the bookcase, until it finally collapsed onto the two zombies, flattening them each with sickening crunches.

A few more zombies lingered about, enough for the hitman to withdraw his sidearm and drop each of them with simple head shots, expending more than half a clip to take them down. When it was apparent none of the corpses would rise again, Jake made his way over to the fireplace to examine the painting above.

"Alright, let's see what we can do here," he quietly spoke aloud as he carefully lifted the painting from its hook. Surely enough, found the numeric keypad hidden behind it and then began to type in the code, whispering it to himself.

"1…8…5…7!"

A loud click was the only indicator of anything taking place.

Making his way over to the northeastern most corner of the room, Jake then traced the rows with a finger raised in front of him, quietly muttering whenever he reached a different letter in the alphabetically ordered rows, careful to catch himself whenever he happened across the occasional misplaced title.

His eyes briefly lit up when he finally happened across the "Emperor's Tales, Vol. 17" title, a heavily frayed red book with chipped away gold lettering.

Eagerly reaching up, he shoved the other books aside and reached for the fairytale book, only to find something that felt more like a wooden block than an actual book. Giving a hefty yank, a series of clicks followed and finally, the bookshelf slid aside to reveal a set of weathered wooden steps leading upward into the darkness.

"_Like being stuck in some old spy movie," _the hired gun mentally remarked as he readied his SPAS-12 and stepped onto the first step, which creaked loudly under the weight of his foot, surely alerting whoever was still up here, if there was even anybody alive. "So much for subtlety," he whispered.

"Who's there?" a voice called out, followed by the cocking of more than one gun.

"It's okay, I'm a human!" Jake replied and slid his shotgun into the secret holster inside his trench coat, wanting to appear as non-threatening as possible. Still, he remained on alert and kept his hands at waist level, ready to reach for his guns if need be as he ascended the stairs towards the unknown group waiting for him, not knowing whether they would be on edge and ready to blow his head off or not.

Careful not to make any sudden movements, the hitman made his way into the darkened space, which was quickly broken by a flashlight being shone in his face, forcing him to grunt as he was temporarily blinded.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" an authoritative voice asked him. Heavy breathing around indicated he was probably surrounded by about two or three other individuals in addition to the speaker.

"My name is Jake," the hired gun replied, moving his hand so the light was no longer blinding him. As he blinked the spots away, he managed to make out a young man who was either in his late teens or early twenties with short dark hair and wearing a yellow t-shirt, armed with a bloodied baseball bat. "I saw movement from inside and figured there were survivors in here. I wanted to see if I could help."

"What are you, some kind of top secret government agent?" the bat-carrying youth asked, perhaps making a reference to his clothing and his weapons, which now stuck out as his coat came open, "And if so, where are the rest of you?"

"It's just me here, just a concerned passerby," Jake replied, "I didn't come here as part of any cavalry."

"What? Get the hell outta here," a new voice cut in, a high-pitched male's, "How the hell could you make it this far with all those freakin' spiders out there? Only a goddamned army could've cut through all those things!"

"Heh, guess it just took luck, skill, and a whole hell of a lot of firepower," Jake replied, now pulling out his shotgun for all to see. Moving his other hand to block out the light, he noticed a bearded African-American standing before him in a tan jacket and khaki pants with a hunting rifle in his hands.

The flashlight was finally switched off and Jake found himself standing face to face with a gray-haired man in an R.P.D. uniform, also lowering the Beretta held in his other hand.

"Sorry about that sir, but as you've seen already this place isn't safe to be in and we're not taking any chances," the officer explained and then began to look him up and down, "Say, you haven't been bitten or scratched by any of those things out there have you?"

"No sir, none of those things managed to get near me," Jake replied as he noticed the men staring at the layers of blood covering his long coat. It was then that he noticed another man in the group who hadn't uttered a single word, a clean shaven man in a red and white windbreaker with a Glock-17 hanging limply at his side.

"Well it's good to see you managed to make it this far in one piece. Too bad we can't say the same thing about the other people here. Some safe house this turned out to be," the officer sighed, looking downward to hide the shame in his eyes. "No matter how many times we'd shoot the sons of bitches they would keep coming back for more…then those spiders came…"

"Go for a shot to their skull if you absolutely have to kill them," Jake explained, "They won't get back up from that. Those spiders aren't much different; shoot their sensitive areas and they're dead."

"Well keep in mind that not all of us are expert marksmen you know," the African-American spoke.

"Keep in mind that none of us had ever even had to use a gun before a few days ago, Marlowe," a voice called out from the back.

"Settle down you two!" the officer barked, before catching himself and steadying his nerves and returning his attention to Jake, "I'm sorry, but things have been too damn tense around here lately and quite frankly I'm surprised we're still able to stay together like this."

"Can't say that I blame you Officer," Jake said, "I'm glad to see at least somebody is trying to maintain their sanity when everything else goes to shit like this," he said motioning with his hand in reference to the city around them before returning his attention to the older man.

"O'Doyle," the cop said extending his hand forth, "Jeff O'Doyle, Raccoon Police Department, at least I'm hoping there still is one in existence."

"Are you the only cop up here Jeff?" Jake asked, trying to peer around the group surrounding him.

"No, there are two more officers up here with me, but one of them isn't in the best of shape right now," Jeff replied, stepping aside and motioning towards the back of the room, which was illuminated by only a small portable lantern.

Near the lantern rested a young brown-haired officer in a tattered, blood-spattered uniform, his skin white as a sheet and giving off an unearthly glow in the artificial light. A sickly dark blue framed his eyes and under his lips, much like he had just seen earlier with that one woman. He breathed in ragged gasps, his chest falling up and down at a manic pace.

"Help…me…" he rasped, shooting a hand out towards the hitman, only to be restrained by his colleague.

"Burchill, settle down," a female officer with shoulder-length dark red hair pleaded as she held him down.

Across from the female officer was another woman kneeling over the fallen cop, this one an Asian woman with her long black hair done up in a bun and wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Able to sense the hired gun's eyes upon her, she looked over her shoulder towards him.

"He was poisoned by one of those gigantic spiders outside," she explained returning her gaze to the suffering man, "We don't have any of those blue herbs on hand to treat him and the only ones available are in Mr. Ecklinger's office."

"We'd go and get them, but there's too many of those damn things out there and we're dangerously low on ammo," another voice cut in, this one belonging to the man who had shouted at that Marlowe guy earlier on. He was a middle-aged man in a dark blue windbreaker with neon yellow reflective stripes on it. Before him sat the pieces of a disassembled radio he was in the process of trying to repair.

"That plus the pigs in this town are too damned chicken shit," called out another masculine voice, this one carrying traces of a Latino accent. Shining his light towards a darkened corner, Jake caught sight of a stocky Hispanic man sitting on an old crate with his hands cuffed behind him. He was a tough-looking individual with his black hair shaved on all sides and a thin mustache and goatee. He wore a black leather jacket with a Rook chess piece outline in white over his left breast and charcoal gray cargo pants.

"Yeah, well we weren't too chicken shit to bust your ass for shooting up those Jokers out there!" the woman officer sharply retorted.

"Hey, I was just trying to defend myself out there from those crazy fuckers!" the man roared, "That's how it always is with you law dogs in this city, always ripping on us whenever we try defending ourselves. I wouldn't be at all surprised if you were on their payroll!"

"Enough, both of you," Jeff called out before pulling the lever which slid the bookshelf back into place behind them.

"Have you been able to get in touch with any of your colleagues out there?" Jake asked the veteran officer, again carefully studying his two co-workers.

"Not for the past few hours," Officer O'Doyle replied, "That Rook punk over there, Jorge Ruiz, got into a shootout with some Jokers who were trying to seek shelter here and damaged my radio. Burchill and Sears, their radios ran out of juice shortly after. Trying to get to the radios out in the cruisers is damn near impossible at this point. Wayne is trying to do what he can to repair mine so we can get back in touch with headquarters," he said as he motioned to the man in working with the disassembled radio.

"Any idea what was happening before you lost contact?" Jake asked.

"Last we heard, they were on the verge of losing the safe house set up over at the power station," the officer grimly reported, "We already lost the post office this morning."

"You can add the bank to that list," the hitman added, "I was there this morning when it fell to these weird bug-like creatures. I managed to escape with a small group, but as I was getting ready to join them, some fat cowardly pig got behind the wheel of the delivery truck we were supposed to escape in. He left me and some kid behind to die and then I got separated from the kid. Where he is now, I honestly have no idea," he spoke in a near growl, remembering Dario's abandonment and how he wanted to string the man up by his intestines for what he did.

They were distracted from their conversation as Officer Burchill broke down into a violent coughing fit, spitting up foamy froth as Officer Sears rolled him over onto his side to prevent him from choking to death on his own vomit.

"We're going to have to continue this chat later, right now though, we're going to have to focus on doing what we can to save Officer Burchill," Jeff spoke as he looked around to the men immediately surrounding him. "Now that we've got some extra help available, maybe we can make a break for those blue herbs Cassie just mentioned."

He then turned to the hitman again, "If you don't mind me asking Jake, how much are you carrying in terms of firepower? Like Wayne stated, we're pretty low on ammo at the moment."

Nodding in compliance, Jake set his shotgun and katana on a nearby crate and then pulled out his Berettas for all to see, and then patted the shoulder holster where his magnum rested.

"I also have a knife in a shin holster and three grenades left on me," he explained.

"That's some serious firepower indeed buddy," Marlowe spoke up, "Regular one man army."

"You could say that," the hitman replied with a smirk, "Some of it I had to salvage from bodies I've found scattered around, not like their former owners would've been able to use them anyway. Besides, I'm sure they would've wanted it put to use either way."

"Well alright, you seem plenty capable of helping us out Mister…" Jeff spoke with his finger pointed towards him, indicating he wanted a last name.

"Smith," Jake answered, using his false surname.

"Mr. Smith, we don't have much choice. We're going to have to stop standing around and talking and find those herbs," Jeff continued and turned to face the clean-shaven man, "Owen, I'm gonna need you to come with us."

"Sure thing," the man finally spoke with a curt nod.

"Marlowe and Nick, I want both of you on guard duty," the veteran cop ordered and then looked back to the woman officer, "Ellen, do you still have that grenade launcher with you?"

"Right here Jeff," Officer Sears replied and raised an M-79 grenade launcher for all to see, "It doesn't have much ammo left, just a few acid and napalm rounds, otherwise we could've killed all those things out there."

"Well it's better than nothing," the older man replied as he walked over and accepted the launcher, along with a red and gold-tipped canister each.

"Alright, let's get moving," Jeff spoke to Jake and Owen and brushed briskly passed his appointed guards, "We'll knock when we want you to open the door. Until then, don't open it for anything else."

"Right on, we'll know to be ready when we hear everything being blown to shit outside," Marlowe replied with a mock salute.

"Just shut up and do your job," the officer snapped before making his way down the stairs, followed closely by Jake and Owen.

"You both ready?" he asked.

"Let's do it," Jake replied with a pump of his shotgun, while Owen nodded quietly.

"Open the door," he shouted up to Nick and the creaking of a lever followed.

The door slid aside and the three men stepped back into the corpse-laden sitting area, Jake leading the way with his mounted light.

"So where'd you get the grenade launcher from?" Jake asked as they moved cautiously, doing whatever he could to make sure his companions stayed close by. "That looks like some pretty heavy duty firepower for a cop right there."

"It's not ours actually," Jeff replied keeping the weapon raised, "Some soldier was here earlier. He claimed to have been sent in by Umbrella of all people, said he got separated from the rest of his platoon. Whatever the case was, he said he was here to help us and then those spiders showed up…"

"I wonder why the hell Umbrella of all people would send soldiers in," Owen spoke up from behind them, "Umbrella's a freaking pharmaceutical company!"

"Who knows, maybe the regular Army is too busy trying to quarantine the whole city," Jake replied as they came to the stairs leading down to the second floor. "Alright, where do we go from here?"

"Ecklinger's office is on the second floor, at the westernmost part of the level," Jeff said looking to their left, "The guy was big into the natural, holistic medicine, so we might find quite a bit around there."

A flash of lightning from outside briefly illuminated the hall the trio was about to travel down, enabling them to make out a lone figure who staggered along one of the large windows. The lone individual had taken notice of them, letting out a hollow moan and began charging towards them with arms extended.

Quickly pulling out one of his Berettas, Jake shot the approaching zombie from a distance and it fell to the floor, a metallic object clattering to the ground beside it.

Jeff again pulled out his flashlight, to see they had just dropped a man in a security guard's jacket, and the object was another handgun, which he would quickly rush to pick up and make sure the ammo wouldn't go to waste.

"Alright, we're here," he said motioning for the door in front of them. "I've been called here before; his office should be towards the back."

Jake stepped up with his shotgun as the cop eased the door open and shined his light into the darkened room, finding nothing but a bunch of overturned furniture.

"Think it's clear?" he whispered to the officer, who raised a hand motioning for him to stay back. They listened intently before finally stepping in with their lights raised.

"Owen, are you coming or what?" Jeff asked as their companion stood silent in the hall, clutching his gun tightly.

"I don't like it guys, I think I'm gonna stay here!" he hissed back, a whimper following. Knowing they didn't have time to argue, Jeff looked to Jake and then looked out the open door.

"Alright, wait there for us and don't move a muscle unless you see something coming. If you see anything at all, alert us immediately."

"Right!" the man squeaked in reply.

Returning to their mission, the officer and the hitman made their way around partitions and overturned furniture until they came across a door labeled "Richard Ecklinger, Town Historian." Not wasting any time, Jake brought his foot up and kicked the door open.

Inside, he easily made out the row of herbs lining the large window in the center of Mr. Ecklinger's office, as well as a pale figure in a once elegant beige suit hunched over the bloody remnants of a woman whose face had remained untouched, displaying the agony felt in her final waking hours.

KA-BOOM!

Leveling his shotgun on the back of the suited man's head, Jake pulled the trigger and the zombie's head exploded in a crimson mist, covering the face of the woman who had been its meal.

"Alright, I found the herbs!" he shouted to the others.

Before Jeff O'Doyle could say anything, a scream came from the outside corridor, that of Owen, followed by a flurry of shots.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Owen Zeegers fired uncontrollably as the gigantic spider barreled towards him, having dropped down from a shadowy recess in the ceiling. Every shot connected and he was rewarded by torrents of toxic green blood gushing out from the mutated arachnid's hairy hide, yet it pressed forth.

"No damn it! No!" he screamed as he continued squeezing the trigger, until his Glock clicked empty. It was then that the mutant spider grabbed a hold of him, digging its hook-like tendrils into the man's shoulders and tore into his chest with its fangs, proceeding to suck his internal organs out as if through a straw.

"Oh God no!" was all Jeff O'Doyle could mutter as he stepped into the corridor, realizing he was too late and could only watch helplessly as the civilian was mercilessly torn into, yet another civilian dying under his watch.

A loud hiss sounded from above him and the veteran officer looked up to see another one of those mutant spiders clinging to the ceiling directly above him, spewing a cloud of mist down upon him.

Jeff had seen what happened to his colleague Dustin Burchill when exposed to the mist, and quickly dove out of the way. Raising his grenade launcher, he fired a round upward at a diagonal angle, careful so nothing would splash onto him. An acidic round connected with the mutant insect's surface and a liquid hiss filled the air as the substance ate away at all parts of its segmented body.

By now the spider that had claimed Owen's life tired of feasting on his ravaged corpse and set its sights on the officer.

Before Jeff could open fire, he heard more tapping next to him and turned to find another arachnid about to scale the wall towards him.

"Jeff!" a gruff voice called out from behind and Jake stepped up next to him with his shotgun drawn, firing into the spider that had been feasting on Owen, severing several of its limbs with his blasts before he managed to score a hit that popped its thorax open like one huge zit.

Finally able to act, the veteran cop fired a blast into the mounted spider, causing it to shriek in agony as the acid burned through its skin and it struggled to maintain its grip on the wall, eventually falling and writhing helplessly as it succumbed to its chemical death.

Jake took notice of the freshly dead Owen and then turned to Jeff, "You alright?"

"Still in one piece," the veteran officer replied, staring at the dead civilian as well, "Did you get the herbs?" he asked, forcing himself to change the subject.

"Right here," Jake said, raising a cloth handbag filled with the aforementioned herbs.

"Okay good, let's just get these back to Dustin and the others as soon as possible," Jeff spoke, stealing one last glance in the fallen Owen's direction, "I'm sorry," he whispered, low enough to avoid the hitman's ears.

"Yeah, let's," Jake added, gently pushing the cop forth.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, let us in up there. We're back!" Jeff called out, rapping on the back of the bookcase.

The two men waited anxiously as they heard a muffled reply from the secret door, but were unable to make it out due to the rumble of thunder from outside. With an eerie creak, the door slid aside and both men wasted no time scaling the stairs two at a time, hoping they weren't too late.

"Quick, shut the door," the officer ordered Nick as he made his way over to the prone Dustin with the bag of herbs.

"Wait, where's Owen?" Marlowe suddenly called out.

"One of those spiders got him," Jake answered for the cop.

"Shit," the rifle-toting man muttered as Nick pulled the lever to shut the door.

Everybody made their way over to the others as Cassie began sifting through the bag and quickly pulled out a blue herb. Breaking off its stem, she poured its powdery contents onto a small piece of paper and then titled Officer Burchill's head back, pouring the blue powder into his mouth.

The young officer coughed a few times, but within seconds his breathing gradually slowed to a normal pace.

"Thank you…" he gasped, still regaining his breath as he looked towards Jake, "…those damned spiders. There was a whole bunch of other people here when those fuckers showed up. They poisoned a lot of them and there were too many to fight. I think it's safe to say that we're the last people left alive in this place."

"I wouldn't doubt that at all," Officer Ellen Sears mournfully seconded, again accepting the grenade launcher from a tired Officer O'Doyle.

"How's that radio coming along?" Jeff asked as Wayne still twiddled away with the small device.

"Well Officer, I'm not exactly working with the most professional material you have to offer, so I've been forced to improvise," the radio repairman spoke as he twisted a few wires here and there, "So it could be awhile before I manage to get through to any of your buddies, if they're still out and about," his last remark drawing a few worried glances.

"They're still out there, they just have to be," Jeff said, hoping to raise the morale of those present.

"Bullshit piggy! It's the fuckin' apocalypse out there!" Jorge suddenly called out, breaking into a fit of near hysterical laughter indicating he may very well have been on the edge of sanity by this point. "I saw what those things did to all your fellow boys in blue out there…they fucking tore them apart like they were nothing!"

"Shut up Ruiz!" Jeff snapped, "I've had it up to here with all of your crap after everything we've been through!"

"Hah, I doubt you're in much of a position to do much else with the way the rest of your boys got torn apart out there," the gang member continued and then turned to the others, "The R.P.D. couldn't protect any of you from those cannibal murderers, what makes you think they can save us from this?"

Jeff had finally heard enough and walked over to punch the Rook member as hard as he could, knocking him to the floor with a heavy thud that caused everybody except Burchill to jump back. He was about to reach for his nightstick when Ellen ran over to restrain him.

"Jeff no," she pleaded as she grabbed the hand holding his baton. Burchill saw what his partner was trying to do and also pleaded with him not to do something he knew he would regret, going as far as to try crawling towards the scuffle, but was restrained by Cassie.

"Ha ha! Police brutality pig!" the gang member shouted, a cut visible from the corner of his mouth, "When I get out of here, I'm suing your fucking ass!"

"Damn it, haven't you caused enough damage already Ruiz?" Wayne grumbled, "Shut the hell up for once!"

"That's 'El Lobo' to you and don't you forget it!" Jorge shot back, finally forcing himself into a sitting position, "If I wasn't cuffed I'd be slashing your throat for that."

Jake watched along with Nick and Marlowe from the back as Ellen finally managed to calm the veteran officer down and brought him over to where they could sit and quietly converse with the revived Burchill.

"Man, some fucked up shit's been going on in this entire city the past few days. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it was the goddamned apocalypse out there," Marlowe spoke and then turned to Jake offering a hand, "I'm sorry I didn't get to introduce myself earlier. Marlowe Keane, I work over at the city power station, or I probably should say used to by this point."

"Jake Smith," the hitman replied and then turned over to Nick.

"Nick Luster," the younger man spoke, "I was a chemistry student over at Raccoon University."

The men spoke as if they were spirits looking back upon their former lives with their "I used to" speech. It almost made him feel like they weren't thinking about life beyond the confines of this madness, as if they truly expected to die here.

"Man this shit's like something straight out of a 'Biohazard' movie," Marlowe sighed, setting down his rifle long enough to rub his tired face.

"Funny you should say that, my roommate Eric and I were supposed to get together with a bunch of friends and see 'Biohazard 4' down at the Uni-Plex. I take it you're a fan too, huh?" Nick spoke as he sat down on a dusty old stool.

Jake knew what both of them were talking about. He too was a fan of the entire "Biohazard" series, which had a plot very similar to the situation they were stuck in right now.

"_Why the hell didn't I think of that sooner?" _he asked himself, _"It's all too fucking similar. Too bad I don't have Sienna Jovovich here fighting alongside me," _he thought with a smile, reminded of the schoolboy crush he harbored for the actress who played the series' protagonist Allison Hart.

"Say when you mention Eric, are you by any chance talking about an Eric Sampson?" Jake suddenly asked, not knowing what possessed him to do so.

Nick stared at him wide-eyed, "Dude yeah, that's my roommate! Have you seen him? Is he still alive?"

"I saw him a couple nights ago. First I ran into him down at J's Bar when he came in with some other people to report a homicide, then we had to fight our way out through an entire army of those zombies outside. Later on, I saw him at the Apple Inn. We were trapped there with some other people and were attacked by these skinless creatures with these long tongues and barely escaped," the hitman explained.

"Oh god man…I've seen those things too," Nick nearly whimpered, "One of them killed Aimee…Oh god I hope Eric's still alive!"

"He should be, he seemed like a tough, smart enough kid," Jake said patting the college student on the shoulder, hoping to raise his spirits. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

Seeing that Burchill was back in good spirits, Cassie walked over to the three men and offered them some more herbs she had just mixed, "Here, take these. They should help if you've been hurt by anything else."

"I've already got some of that Umbrella first-aid spray on me, but after what happened to Burchill over there, I probably should," Jake said accepting a mixed green and blue herb, "Thanks."

"You're welcome; I'm Cassie by the way, Cassie Ling. I work here in the library," she said shaking the hitman's gloved hand.

"She's also the reason we got up here," Wayne said looking up from his project and offered a friendly wave, "I'm Wayne, Wayne Compton. I'm a radio repairman over at the airport. Pleased to meet you."

"So just why exactly are you bothering to try saving our asses then?" Jorge asked from his perch, "Shouldn't you be trying to get the hell out of dodge as fast as possible before those things can get you?"

Walking over closer to the Rook, Jake whispered, "To tell the truth, I honestly have no idea. Guess I just felt the need to perform a good deed before I got the hell out of here. Better somebody else survived this madness than just me alone."

"Well good luck on that pal," Jorge snorted, "I've seen those things take entire clips and they keep going, no matter how many of them you can shoot in the head, more take their place. Those bastards ripped my buddies apart left and right," he growled as he stared down at an Ingram MAC-10 submachine gun that lay next to Wayne, possibly the same gun he had killed those Jokers with.

"_If I can't help you make it out of this city alive, I can at least get you away from those damn spiders alive," _Jake told himself, doing what he could to ignore the man's negative comments.

A loud static hiss suddenly emanated from the radio Wayne had been working on, causing everybody to nearly jump out of their skin. When they suddenly realized what it was, a glimmer of hope calmed them down. The three officers quickly rushed over to assess the situation.

Wayne sat on the ground cross-legged, fiddling around with the knob for any frequencies, catching mostly dull static. For the most part whenever he did find something, it was usually gunfire, the dying screams of R.P.D. and other rescue personnel, and more of those droning moans, still having their chilling effect on the battered survivors.

"C'mon damn it, there has to be somebody out there!" Jeff snapped, "Let me see that," he said snatching the radio away from the repairman.

Surfing through the frequencies he continued until he finally happened across the channel used by the aerial units and was finally greeted by a voice.

"_All available R.P.D. units report. This is Falcon 2, commencing search and rescue for any and all remaining units. If you are available, please make yourselves known immediately!"_

Jeff's eyes beamed as he heard the familiar voice, "Strid, this is O'Doyle! I copy!"

"_O'Doyle! Where the hell are you? The entire city is in uproar and we've just lost contact with the high school emergency shelter_!" the pilot replied.

"Well add the library to the list as well," Jeff glumly reported, "I'm holed up in the library's attic and I have Sears and Burchill with me. Everybody else has been lost. We have six civilians with us, that's it."

"_Very well, just hold your position. I can be over to pick you up in approximately ten minutes. I'm just finishing a pick up from over by the park. Falcon 1 and 3 are out and about as well. Falcon 4 went down over Warren Stadium."_

"Alright, please just get here as fast as you can," Jeff pleaded.

"_Will do," _the pilot replied before cutting out.

"We're saved?" Cassie asked, clasping her hands together with a smile wanting to cross her features.

"I hope so," Jeff replied, "we won't be out of the woods just yet once we get picked up. With the Army blockading this entire city, I'm sure we won't be able to just up and go as we please. We'll probably be dropped off at the R.P.D. until we can get some kind of clearance to get the hell out of here."

"Anywhere but here is fine with me," Dustin added.

"I second that," Ellen said and then turned to face the others, "For now, everybody gather up your supplies. We're getting ready to get out of here."

"Where do we get out of here?" Jeff asked Cassie, shining his light around for any exits."

"There should be a door blocked off somewhere around here. I know I overheard Mr. Scolari saying something about ordering the maintenance workers to have it blocked off. He was getting paranoid with all the recent cannibal murders and wanted to be prepared from all points if anything were to happen around here," Cassie reported. She was about to speak again when she became distracted by something crawling up her leg and looked down, only to let out an ear-piercing shriek of terror.

Jeff quickly lowered his light and found a baby spider climbing up her leg, one that was the size of a football.

"Get it off!!!" she screamed and began hopping up and down, kicking her leg out wildly in an attempt to shake it off. Picking a kindling stick off the floor, Ellen stuck it under the enlarged insects belly and pried it off with a great effort. Dustin was nearby and on hand to stomp the bug into a pile of gunk.

Hearing ticking noises on the nearby floor, Jake turned his light towards the eastern portion, only to find an entire swarm of baby spiders coming towards them, crawling through cracks that he never thought could have possibly allowed them to slip through.

"Aw shit, there's more of them coming for us!" Jorge called out as he noticed the bugs, "You pigs had better find that damned exit fast!"

With the spiders rapidly approaching, the Rook member began to wildly kick his legs out and knock a few back, stomping on a few that had gotten too close for comfort.

"If you'd take these goddamn cuffs off I'd be able to help!" he shouted out as he leapt over onto a group that had clustered together.

"No chance in Hell Ruiz!" Jeff shouted as he ran over and pushed a stack of crates onto the approaching spiders. One had been climbing on a rafter above him and dropped down onto his shoulder, forcing him to frantically swat away at it before he finally caught it and tossed it across the room like a baseball, a sickening splat indicating its fate.

Cassie and Wayne had both grabbed guns, the former taking the gun Jeff had found on the security guard and the latter snatching the MAC-10. Both of them fired wildly at the approaching spiders, while Nick swung away with his baseball bat and Marlowe tossed random objects at them, not wanting to waste his rifle ammo on a couple bugs.

"C'mon, let's forget about these things and focus on getting the hell out of here," Jeff shouted in Cassie's ear as he grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to drag her to wherever the exit was.

"Over there!" she shouted, pointing to an ancient wardrobe that stuck out from behind a stack of wooden crates.

"This way," Jeff called out and began pulling crates out of the way. Nick and Marlowe both rushed over to help him and reached the wardrobe, using all their might to knock it over.

Unfortunately, the floorboards had been much weaker than expected and the wardrobe broke through, collapsing the floor beneath Cassie and sending her falling through with him. It was only through sheer reflex she had managed to grab onto one of the support beams below.

"Help me!" she screamed, quickly losing her grip as she felt jagged shards cutting into her hand.

Jake saw the young woman's dilemma and quickly rushed over to extend his hand downward, "Give me your other hand!"

Struggling to swing her body weight over, she finally managed to get her hand up and the hitman easily pulled her to safety.

Seeing the young woman was safe, only then did Jeff slide the deadbolt aside and open the door, another weathered staircase there to greet them. One by one, the survivors made their way up and with Jeff leading the pack, pushed the doors open to lead them into the rainy outdoors.

Having covered the escaping group from the rear flank, Jake turned to see the baby spiders still chasing after them. With a few shells still in his shotgun, he fired what was left until he had managed to scare most of them away and then made his way to the rooftop, slamming the doors shut behind him.

The rain had become a full-scale downpour and the hired gun was quickly soaked from head to toe. With no available cover, the others could only stand around and be pelted by the rain, feeling relief as if they were having the stench of death washed away from them.

Jeff anxiously scanned the area, straining his ears above the pounding rain and undead moans for any indication of the approaching helicopter.

"Hear anything?" Wayne asked.

"Not yet," the officer replied.

Jake watched as the rain began to extinguish the surrounding fires and also observed the zombies, who still staggered about oblivious of the heavy downpour. Once dried blood ran down their exposed skin and dripped from their uniforms, further staining the already blackened concrete and flowing towards the storm drains. It was just like inside, blood was everywhere.

"Alright, I think I can hear something!" Jeff shouted to the others as the hum of helicopter blades could be heard from a distance, the sound growing with every passing second. The three officers darted back and forth until Ellen shot her hand out towards the southeastern corner.

"I see it!"

Initially appearing as a tiny dot on the darkened backdrop, the blue and white R.P.D. helicopter hovered into view and the small group rejoiced at the sudden godsend. The three officers switched on their flashlights and waved them wildly to draw the chopper towards them.

"Everybody spread out!" Jeff ordered as the pilot had taken notice and began circling the library, readying to touch down. He again waved his flashlight to guide the chopper in, and within minutes it had safely landed.

The helicopter's cargo door slid open and out stepped another R.P.D. officer, this one a man with short reddish-blond hair that was beginning to gray at the temples and was worn closely cropped to his head. He wore a regular patrol uniform along with a navy blue jacket that had an R.P.D. patch on the right shoulder and "R.P.D." emblazoned across the back in big blocky white letters with a star above it. In his hands was a Benelli M4 Super 90 assault shotgun.

Whoever this man was, he carried an air of authority about him, one easily evidenced by the three surviving officers' immediate reaction.

"What happened here?" he demanded, noticing only three officers remained out of the entire unit that had been assigned with safeguarding the library. "By God, don't tell me you're all that's left."

"I'm afraid we are Lt. Monroe," Burchill spoke, lowering his head in shame.

"It was horrible," Sears added, the cascading raindrops disguising the tears streaming down her face, "These giant spiders appeared and started killing everything in sight. There were too many of them and we were too unprepared."

"Fuck," the lieutenant swore as he surveyed the handful of civilians left. He was grateful to see a few innocent souls had managed to survive the slaughter inside, but deep down he still felt for those who had failed to make it out alive, those who had been brutally and unjustly murdered by creatures that supposedly weren't of this world.

"Alright, just get them onto the helicopter and let's get back to the station," Lt. Monroe ordered motioning towards the copter's cargo area.

"I don't know if that's going to be possible Lieutenant," the pilot called out from inside, "We're practically filled to the max in here!"

Jake looked into the opened chopper and noticed the frightened survivors all clustered tightly together in the dangerously enclosed space. He would honestly be surprised if any of the others would be able to fit inside there, it looked as if the police lieutenant himself had to struggle just to get out.

"Well right now we don't have much choice!" Monroe shouted back to the pilot and then turned to Jeff, "Get them inside now."

"You heard the man, let's get moving!" Officer O'Doyle ordered and waved the survivors over, each of them piling in one by one as the chopper's frame groaned beneath their added weight.

"Come on sir, you too," Lt. Monroe said motioning towards the copter, only to be cut off by Jeff.

"I really don't know Hank. I think Strid is right, we don't have enough space to fit everybody on here," the grizzled cop spoke, looking uneasily back and forth between the two men.

"Save yourselves. I'll be alright!" Jake suddenly spoke.

Both officers stopped everything they were doing and looked at him quizzically.

"Are you insane? Those things are dangerous!" Lt. Monroe half-shouted, "Sir, you best come with us if you want to make it out of this ordeal."

"I can handle those things. Just get those survivors out of here!"

Not wanting to get involved in another long-winded argument with the authority figures present, the hitman abruptly turned on his heel and ran towards the edge of the rooftop, where he found a fire escape awaiting him and took off down it.

"Who the hell does that man think he is?" Henry Monroe shouted back to his colleague Jeff O'Doyle, ready to run after the man and force him to come with them, even if it would have involved knocking him out and having his unconscious form loaded onto the helicopter.

"A Good Samaritan," Officer O'Doyle answered, "A mysterious helpful stranger with a death wish, but nonetheless, a man whose help got us this far and for whom we wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for his timely intervention, iron will and sense of duty."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake strolled quietly down the alley, listening as the helicopter took off overhead; satisfied knowing his efforts had not been entirely in vain and knowing that a good deed had been done.

"_Never thought I'd live to see the day Jake Cavanaugh's abilities were used to help bring about a noble outcome," _he thought to himself. Sure he had helped people before, but for some reason this time in particular just felt different.

"_Why? I honestly have no idea."_

The alley led the hitman down another turn and brought him face to face with another small army of zombies, standing wall to wall and leaving it impossible for him to take any other way out.

With a pump of his shotgun, he prepared to go to work.

Author's Note: And so ends another chapter in our rewrite, one that took 30 pages to write!

For those of you out there paying close attention, I'm sure you picked up the little inside joke regarding the actress Sienna Jovovich. Yes, it is a reference to the movies with Sienna Guillory and Milla Jovovich! Yes, even our favorite antihero is capable of his own "fan boy" moments if you wish to call them that. :-P

"Abominations" was also a reference to "Aliens," as was the description of the cocooning the Web Spinners did to the zombies and all those corpses glued to the ceiling.

Another more subtle inside joke was made when Nick questions if Jake is supposed to be some kind of "top secret government agent type." To an extent, I have patterned Jake Cavanaugh after Solid Snake from the "Metal Gear Solid" series, hence the reference, so yeah that might've been hard for some of you to pick up.

Stay tuned for the next chapter, in this upcoming chapter you will become reacquainted with a familiar face and also witness a famous (or I should say "infamous") event from the games that may have you going "Huzzah!" afterward.

Once again, read and review or else I'm going to be sending a truckload of Web Spinners to your house!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	16. Ch 15: The Funeral March

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 15: The Funeral March

Almost as quickly as it had started, the storm pounding Raccoon City had subsided and any who were still able to were now free to travel about unimpeded.

Jake fell against a nearby wall and exhaled heavily, fresh off the heels of another skirmish.

He sunk to a knee and reached into his side pack for a handful of shells, jamming them one by one into the chamber of his SPAS-12. He didn't want to get caught with his pants down like he did last time. His bloodied katana served as an additional reminder, barely any of its once glimmering surface visible beneath the layers of fresh blood.

The number of zombies in that back alley had been of a greater multitude than he had expected. Armed with his shotgun, he managed to cut a small path through the infected horde, running through his ammo like water. With barely any space to safely reload, he was forced to withdraw his dual Berettas and even his magnum before being forced to unsheathe his sword.

Eventually, the sheer numbers and confined space became too much for him and he was forced to flee. It was a small miracle his body had allowed him to make it this far before finally giving in and forcing him to halt.

Thankfully, he couldn't hear any moans by this point and allowed himself to fall into a sitting position, stretching out his aching muscles and slowing his breathing back to a normal pace.

_"Damn it, I've gotta find a place to relax or else all this running is going to give me a goddamned heart attack," _Jake thought as he tried to move his limbs, realizing what added effort it now took.

What he wouldn't do right now for a nice comfy armchair to sit down and relax in, along with a complete warm meal, a hot shower, some clean clothes and even a nice soft bed, where he would be able to enjoy an uninterrupted full night's rest. They were all basic amenities he took for granted on a daily basis and it was situations like this that made them worth killing for.

_"Especially when compared to the cold concrete, tiny snacks that barely provide a few minute's sustenance, tattered clothes caked from top to bottom with dried blood and reeking of gunpowder, and tiny catnaps," _he thought, pushing himself back to his feet and taking one final stretch before scooping up his shotgun and safely securing it around his shoulder.

Taking the time to memorize the current street he was on, he looked up to see a sign indicating he was currently on "Flower Street." Without a map of the area, he again found himself assuming he had been running around in circles.

"This city's much larger than I expected," Jake whispered as he mentally noted some of the shops around him, including Paul's Burgers, Arukas Tailor and Tony's Kitchen, as he rounded a corner and happened across a welcome sight.

_"A gun shop!" _his mind screamed.

Before him stood the Kendo Gun Shop, a small business located at the very end of the street. It didn't look like much, but in a situation such as this it was like Heaven on Earth, a place where he could possibly stock up on available weapons and ammunition.

He couldn't get his hopes too far up though. In a situation like this, a gun shop is likely the first place a lot of frightened townspeople would run to looking for the means to defend themselves. It could be bone dry by now, but he had to find out for sure. Taking one last look around to make sure he wasn't followed, he then made his way inside.

Before he could look around, the cocking of a weapon stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Alright you, drop your weapon and turn around slowly!" a gruff voice with traces of a Southern drawl demanded.

_"I should've expected this," _the hitman told himself and dropped his gun to the floor, _"Whoever this guy is, I can take him if he tries anything funny." _Slipping into his "frightened civilian" character, he slowly turned around with his hands in the air. Instead of the barrel of a shotgun, his eyes were drawn to the glimmering tips of razor sharp arrows.

A haggard shopkeeper stood before him with a crossbow trained on his chest. The burly, middle-aged man looked to not have ventured outside the confines of his shop for a few days, his short black hair grungy, dark brown eyes bloodshot from little sleep and a five o'clock shadow that was close to becoming a full beard. He wore filthy blue jeans held up by a pair of brown suspenders and a sweat-stained white t-shirt.

Specks of blood decorated the man's already soiled shirt and Jake took notice of the blood-stained bandage wrapped around his right forearm. Either he had cut himself in an accident, or he had been bitten by one of those zombies outside. It left cause for concern and kept the hired gun on heightened alert.

"Alright boy, I'm gonna ask you this once: Who are ya' and what are ya' doin' here?" the owner demanded, his aim never wavering as he spoke.

"Hold your fire! I'm a human!" Jake shouted, keeping his empty hands in plain view to show he meant no harm. "I'm here seeking shelter from those zombies outside and I need some ammo if you've got any left." He explained things as calmly as he could to gain the man's trust. His gun was nearby in case he would need it and he also studied the positioning of the owner's weapon in case he would need to disarm the man.

The owner remained silent, save for his heavy breathing. He stared intently at Jake, seeming as if he wasn't going to lower his weapon right away.

To him, the man who had just entered his shop looked like another hoodlum who would probably try beating him up and stealing what little ammunition he had left.

When the random murders began occurring around town there had been an increase in sales for his shop, a backlog in orders that would have taken him months to fulfill. When the chaos began to increase a few nights ago, practically the entire city had converged upon his establishment demanding whatever he could offer, nearly depleting his entire stock and leaving him with next to nothing to defend himself with.

Just a few hours ago, two desperate thugs had shown up trying to loot his remaining stock, but they had both found themselves on the business end of his Remington. Even then they were persistent and it took a round being fired into one man's side to finally send them retreating back to the streets with those "things." Judging by the severity of the blast, it was safe to say the wounded man hadn't made it far and neither had his accomplice.

To make matters worse, he had lost touch with his brother Joe a few days ago when he had been in the process of returning with a fresh shipment. All of the phone lines were down and the cellular tower must have been compromised because he wasn't able to reach his cell phone either.

He didn't like to say it, but with all the madness going on outside, he honestly didn't like his brother's chances of survival right now.

"Look, I'm not here to hurt you!" Jake half shouted, "I needed to get away from those things and get some goddamned ammo. If you're not going to help, then I can be on my way.

The owner stepped backwards and remained silent until he was safely behind the counter before lowering his weapon. "Sorry about that. With what's been going on out there, I'm not taking any chances. It's hard to tell if you're being visited by some brute off the streets looking to rob you, or one of those 'things' looking for a meal."

"What's going on in this town?" Jake asked, acting as if he believed any outsider would.

"I don't have a clue, son. By the time I noticed something was wrong, the whole city was crawling with those…zombies as some kid called them," the man said, rubbing his tired face and scratching his heavy stubble with his free hand. He laid the bowgun on the counter and pulled up a stool.

"Man, that sounds seriously fucked up," Jake replied picking up his shotgun from the floor and approaching the front counter. The counter was covered in empty weapon cases and miscellaneous papers. The display cases behind had been smashed open and their contents were missing. Next to the man sat a half-empty bottle of whiskey, a nearly empty pack of cigarettes and various food wrappers. After taking a long chug from the bottle, the owner was ready to get down to business.

"So you said ya' needed ammo, what kind of gun?"

Jake set his shotgun aside and placed his dual Berettas on the counter, "I've got a few guns on me, but these are the ones I need it for the most. I've wasted a lot of ammo blasting through those zombies and let me tell you, they're not the only things crawling around out there."

"Heh no shit! I saw some guy get pecked to death by a bunch of crows out in front of that liquor store over on Ema St. and then I watched some guys getting in a jeep and gunning it away from some Rottweiler that looked like it had been sent through a damned garbage disposal!" the shopkeeper spoke while motioning wildly with his hands.

"Then at least I know I'm not seeing things," the hitman sarcastically retorted as the owner reached beneath the counter.

"Here ya' go kid, I'm sorry, but this is what little I have left for handgun rounds," he said pushing two red boxes towards Jake, "9x19 parabellum rounds," he explained before leaning in closer as if he expected somebody to be listening in on their conversation, "I have more out back in the van. You're the only person I've told this to because you literally look like you've been through Hell and back."

"Don't worry, I'm not here to rob you blind," the hired gun said graciously accepting the ammo, "there are other people out there who will need some too."

"Take 'em kid. They're free this time. You're going to need 'em out there on those damned streets," the owner nodded, but then suddenly leaned over to look down at the shotgun. "That looks like a SPAS-12 you've got there. Do you mind if I ask what else you're packing, if anything besides that and the Berettas?"

"Sure," Jake said as he reached into his coat and pulled out the magnum, declining to tell him about his knife or the hand grenades. The sheathed sword was still strapped to his back, but the gunsmith didn't seem to show any interest in it.

The man let out an impressed whistle, "S&W Model 629, .44 caliber. Man, that's some heavy looking shit you're packing there, son. Hopefully that can take you far."

"Yeah, I sure hope so…" Jake trailed off, remembering how he had seen all sorts of shotguns, magnums, submachine guns and assault rifles fail to stop advancing hordes of the living dead. _"Then again, most of them did fail to go for head shots too."_

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" the owner asked, the sincerity evident as he wanted to do whatever he could to help.

"I'll be fine, Mister…"

"Kendo, Robert Kendo" the shopkeeper replied, offering his hand.

The hired gun instantly recognized the name, assuming this must have been the very younger brother Joe Kendo mentioned back at the bank.

It was tempting to tell him he had seen his sibling and what had become of him so he would have some closure, but had no idea how the man would react if he were told of his brother's murder at the hands of those bug-like creatures. He looked to have been up for days at a time by now and was probably on the edge of sanity. All he would need is that one bit of traumatic news to finally push him over the edge.

"Jake Smith," the younger man replied, "Thanks for your help, Mr. Kendo. Look, if you want to live you should probably come with me." He couldn't believe he was saying this; perhaps he needed to sound concerned in order to sound more believable. In part, he was thankful for the man helping him out like this and felt he owed him some kind of payback in return.

Kendo looked at Jake good and hard, "I thank you for your offer kid, but I'm sure there are still townspeople wandering around the streets as we speak. They will need protection. I think I'm going to stay here a little longer and continue to distribute weapons to any other survivors out there."

Jake nodded in acknowledgment, only able to quietly wish the man good luck. Staying in one spot like this for too long, the man was surely bound to die. Indeed it seemed heartless to leave him behind, but the older man seemed resigned to his fate. Perhaps he had heard the news of the military-erected barricades and figured trying to escape would have been next to impossible.

Nonetheless, the man possessed noble intentions and even the hardened hitman had to respect his decision.

"Alright, I'll be going then, be safe." he said, muttering the last part under his breath. _"At least your efforts haven't entirely been in vain Mr. Kendo."_

The hitman reentered the vacant streets with his shotgun drawn, once again ready for anything that could appear from the shadows. So far he heard nothing to cause concern, but knew he could draw trouble by staying in one place for too long, and also hoping to draw away anything that could endanger the lone shopkeeper he left behind.

But yet he had no idea where he would go, again wandering aimlessly in a war zone.

One thing he did know for sure, he needed to find a place where he could safely relax for a few hours.

_"But where the hell am I going to find a 'safe place?'' _he asked himself, _"The bank and the library were both supposed to be safe houses, but then look what happened to them. I'm seriously starting to doubt any place is safe around here. Hell, I doubt even Fort Knox would be secure from all these freaks."_

His own physical limitations told him otherwise. He really needed to find a place where he could relax.

Traveling back in the direction he came from, he happened across the aforementioned "Ema Street," a main road in the city's business district which connected the uptown and downtown regions. From what he saw, the long stretch appeared unoccupied thus far.

_"Won't be for long," _Jake told himself as he picked up the pace.

Most of the shops on this street had taken greater security measures, having lowered steel shutters and bars in front of their doors and display windows, making it harder to tell if any other survivors were around. Auto wrecks had also obscured many of the entrances, the cars literally being shoved into each other as desperate motorists had moved about in a frenzy, eventually forced to abandon them where they crashed…if they survived.

Despite all the damage, he couldn't even find any bodies festering about anywhere, yet he did find the bloody trails suggesting they had been dragged way into the shadows. He could just picture the sight as innocent bystanders fought for their very survival and feel the agony they must have felt in their final moments, their imagined screams coursing through his mind.

Outside of a smoke shop, a car had smashed into the front exterior and its driver's side door had been yanked open. A severed arm still maintained a death grip on the smashed window frame, a morbid ornament that made the hired gun stop and stare in morbid fascination.

"Nothing can be normal around here. Any signs of logic checked themselves at the door," he told himself as he stared at the splintered remnants of a bus stop kiosk that had probably been smashed through by the car. A torso stuck out from underneath the dented roof, that of a blonde-haired woman. With no provocation, the former human sprang to life, attempting to claw her way out from underneath the rubble. Withdrawing his sword, he ended the zombie's life a second time.

_"Can't let you call for help," _Jake thought, flicking the fresh blood from his blade, figuring other zombies would soon appear if they were able to hear one of their own nearby, at least judging by what he had seen himself. _"These things must be smarter than I give them credit for. It's almost as if they understand one another, even through the simplest moans."_

The hitman continued further down the street until the shops were largely replaced by apartment complexes. Aside from a few lights left on, the dated buildings appeared largely devoid of any signs of life. He assumed if there were any survivors left inside they were probably few and far between, and under heavy lock and key.

Nevertheless, he needed a place to stay and regain his strength. It was doubtful that many survivors would just up and let him in after everything that had just transpired, knowing people could get pretty crotchety in times like this.

"_Especially when I look like I've 'been through Hell and back' as Kendo put it," _Jake thought as he stared up towards a half-opened window, _"Not many people feel charitable when they've got zombies trying to break their front door down. I know I sure as hell wouldn't."_

He closely looked over every surrounding building he could, wanting to make sure he wouldn't find one crawling with zombies. Every decision he made suddenly became life and death.

"_Jesus Jake, quit putting all this pressure on yourself and just pick a fucking place already!" _his mind screamed to him, enough to almost give him a headache.

Making his decision on a whim, the hitman walked over to the building that showed the least signs of damage, a three story red brick building. Aside from a few bullet holes and surprisingly only one shattered window, the place was almost completely untouched by the massacre outside. Not wanting to judge a book by its cover too closely, he pumped his shotgun and ascended the steps.

Inside, the building's foyer had been ransacked; prompting him to keep his weapon raised and listen for any intruders. Couches and chairs had been overturned, a coffee table had been splintered into pieces, paintings had been torn from the walls, papers littered the floor, a nearby payphone had been heavily damaged by gunfire, several lamps had been knocked from their stands and continued to flicker on and off, and lastly, a fish tank had been smashed open and the exotic fish that once inhabited it lay motionless on the carpeted floor.

In a nearby hallway it looked as if several throw rugs had been hastily removed, faint bloody traces outlining where they used to lie. On the nearby reception counter there were more faint streaks that were once a prominent shade of crimson, now long dried. Shoved forcibly into a corner behind the counter was a bucket filled with bloodied water. Whatever had happened here, it looked as if a great effort had been taken to conceal what occurred.

Further down the hall was a different story, where there was too much of a mess to clean up.

Bloody hand and footprints covered the walls and floor, along with more streaks on both surfaces. Bullet holes had ripped through the plaster and a few spent casings still littered the area. Several of the doors had been kicked in as well, but there appeared to be no signs of zombies or other survivors.

Figuring higher ground was safer; Jake ascended the stairs to the third floor, only to find another mess as he entered.

There were more bloody streaks, all the width of human bodies, and they led to an opened window at the opposite side of the hall. Listening for any sounds from the surrounding apartments, he rushed to the opposite end and nearly gagged as he was hit the smell of decay washing over him, this time amplified a million times over.

Looking down into the alley below, the hitman found a large dumpster filled to the brim with decaying human bodies that had all been killed in multiple ways, dumped unceremoniously like the trash normally inhabiting such a container.

The area was enclosed, yet a few infected canines had somehow made their way inside and tore away at the bodies that had missed the dumpster completely. Crows were also present and attempted to scavenge what was left of the rotting forms, only to flutter away as the demon dogs took notice and attempted to lunge after them, repeating the process every few seconds like it was some twisted game of keep away.

"_So that's where all the bodies went."_

As quietly as he could, Jake lowered the window and made sure the latch was securely in place before he dared to step away.

Turning around, the hired gun's eyes were drawn to a familiar red and white symbol on an envelope sticking out from the mailbox next to a nearby door.

The Umbrella Corporation's symbol!

Eagerly reaching into the mailbox, Jake pulled out the envelope and saw that it was addressed to a "Nathan Farnsworth." Knowing the man wasn't around to stop him, he tore the envelope open.

"_He's probably already dead anyway," _he thought to himself as he scanned the letter, only to find that it was from the Umbrella Raccoon Division's Human Resources Department, informing him that he had been turned down for a position as a computer programmer, yet they appreciated his consideration and wished him luck in his future endeavors.

It wasn't anything special and the hired gun simply discarded it, knowing it wouldn't provide him with any kind of lead he wanted in all this madness.

The apartment was unlocked and Jake stepped into the living room, finding it mostly clean aside from a few articles of clothing strewn on the floor and a few objects from a nearby shelf knocked over, a sign the tenant may have left in a hurry. A few comfortable-looking couches called out to the battered young man and he felt tempted to collapse onto one, but knew he had work to do first.

Tossing off his filthy trench coat and holsters, the assassin locked the door and then moved a bookcase in the way, then reinforcing it with one of the couches and the lone armchair present. For now, it was all he had to work with.

Next on the agenda, he needed to get cleaned up and for the first time in ages, removed his sneakers and fingerless gloves before making his way to the bathroom.

The cleanliness of the small room made Jake feel at ease, relieved to finally find a place that was free of blood and gore, yet also making him feel as if he was destroying the tranquility within thanks to the filth he tracked in along with him. He quickly made his way over to the sink and eagerly turned the faucet, letting the hot water wash over his hands, actually sighing in pleasure at the soothing sensation.

It had been nearly an entire day since he had last cleaned himself, thoroughly scrubbing his haggard face and cramping hands. With the free time he was given, he removed his t-shirt and bulletproof vest, splashing water all over as he scrubbed his arms, neck, shoulders and chest, thankful to rid himself of the sticky feeling of long ago dried sweat. There was a shower just inches away from him and although it was tempting to jump in, he decided against it knowing it would leave him vulnerable to anything capable of infiltrating the apartment. He made up for it though by taking some shampoo and washing his hair over the sink.

A fresh stick of deodorant rested on a nearby shelf and Jake applied some, doing whatever he could to remove the stench of death from his flesh. He even found a toothbrush and some mint toothpaste, knowing he would still feel filthy all over if he didn't have the chance to brush his teeth. Almost ten minutes were spent doing so, making up for the days he hadn't been able to do so.

His once neatly-trimmed goatee was almost a full beard by now and he took an electric razor and ran it over his face, even trimming off the V-shaped strip that usually covered his chin.

A rare smile cross his visage, feeling so great to be clean after everything he had been through, so great he could even ignore the prominent scar over his collarbone and the other beneath his bottom lip that his goatee covered, another that typically brought back bad memories whenever he was forced to view it. Pulling his shirt back on, he made his way into the kitchen area to fulfill another task that had long eluded him, finding himself a decent meal.

Opening the refrigerator and staring at all the food inside made him feel like a kid in a candy store. The emptiness in his stomach overcame him to the point everything looked so delicious.

Knowing he could only pick a few items, Jake pulled out a box from the local Giuseppe's Pizza Palace, containing a half-eaten pepperoni and sausage pizza, along with a couple cans of Mountain Brew soda, small container of macaroni salad and some Mixx candy bars. He knew it would probably be a while before he could enjoy a large meal again and wanted to savor every bite of it.

As soon as the microwave dinged, the hitman collapsed onto the remaining sofa and ate everything placed before him, feeling relieved as the food passed through his system, capped off by the thirst-quenching citrus taste of the soda. Ending the meal with a hearty burp, he went to the bathroom and relieved himself before again brushing his teeth.

Reentering the living room, he collapsed back onto the couch and stared at the empty pizza box and food containers before him, surprised he still had an appetite after witnessing people being eaten alive, among other horrors.

What surprised him more was the silence around him, both within the apartment and outside.

Moving over to the nearest window, he looked down to the ravaged streets and found nothing, no zombies loitering about, no skinless creatures scaling the building exteriors, even the sounds from the infected dogs and crows had largely died down.

It was almost as if the monsters had decided they had finally had enough fun and just up and vanished into thin air. Whatever the case was, it was too eerie.

On a shelf near the window, Jake noticed a radio he had failed to recognize earlier. Staring at it intently with a hand on his freshly-shaved chin, he decided to turn it on and see if there were any stations still in service. It probably seemed boneheaded to some people, given the circumstances that had befallen the community, but still he had to know.

Switching it on, he was met with static on most stations, just as he had expected. Keeping the volume down so he wouldn't attract any possible surviving threats, he surfed through the channels and was about to switch it off when he finally heard a voice cutting through.

"_Hello, you are listening to 777 RC-Radio, the last remaining station here in Raccoon City…or what was Raccoon City…" _the disc jockey reported, sounding like he was doing everything he could to maintain his sanity, and rapidly losing the battle.

"_This broadcast was brought to you by our sponsors at Umbrella Incorporated, makers of Adravil," _the man spoke in an attempt to maintain some sense of his former professionalism before he again broke down.

"_Ah screw it! If there is anybody still in this city, please just get the hell out of here while you still can! We have no contact left with the R.P.D. and from what we've heard, all the safe houses they established have been overrun by those insane people. Please do not come over here either, there are more of those things and they have us surrounded. Just get out of here while you still can!"_

A gunshot pierced the airwaves and the slumping of a body followed. A series of panicked voices called out as more survivors piled into the studio.

"_Oh god, Randy!" _a woman screamed and began sobbing hysterically.

"_Shit, get her out of here!" _a man ordered, _"Poor bastard just shot himself."_

"_You can't say that on the air Cody!" _a younger-sounding man shouted.

"_To hell with protocol!" _the man identified as Cody snapped and the sound of him taking the microphone could be heard before he spoke.

"_Ladies and gentlemen of Raccoon City, to those of you who remain, this is Cody Heitzel of 777 RC-Radio. If you are hearing this transmission, you are to go to the Raccoon Police Department immediately. We've received calls reporting that their safe houses have been overrun and are no longer safe."_

"_How the hell do we know if that place is even safe?" _yet another man shouted from the background, _"Those fucking zombies could be marching over there for all we know right now!"_

"_This is what happens when the sins of the world go unpunished," _a powerful voice called out, one that reminded Jake of those hardcore conservative evangelists he always saw on TV.

They always preached the hellfire and brimstone sermons about damnation and how the only way to salvation was to "repent," which usually meant donating all your hard earned money to their churches. The money would often end up being used to buy them fancy new mansions and the other very material excesses they preached against.

"_Assuming they weren't using it to score some blow and turn tricks in public restrooms with some random gold digging hooker on the side," _the hitman thought with a roll of his eyes as the preacher descended into a convoluted rant in which he equated Raccoon City to the biblical cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, _"also can't forget those expensive ads they use to condemn liberals and anybody else who don't see things their way. Reminds me of why I hate organized religion so much."_

"_Look, whatever you do, just get out of Raccoon City while you still can!" _another female voice called out as Cody and the preacher argued loudly in the background.

"They've probably been cooped up in that station for days," Jake said as he switched off the radio. They were probably completely unaware of the perimeter the Army had set up around the city and he had to wonder how those survivors would be received if they followed the station's advice and attempted to flee the city.

Given that the military was enforcing a full-scale quarantine, he assumed they would be shot on sight.

"_Not exactly the ideal outcome they would be looking for," _he thought as he made his way down a short hall and into the lone bedroom at the end, almost finding himself running knees first into the foot of a two-person bed.

The tiny room felt claustrophobic. Most of the little space available was taken up by the bed itself, a dresser, a nightstand between the bed and dresser, a large storage chest and a desk which had an antique typewriter resting upon it. Also present on the desk was an empty metal box. The foam padding inside had an indentation the shape of a gun similar to his and also had two small indentations where magazines would have rested.

"At least whoever lived here wasn't completely defenseless," the hitman observed as he looked over to an alarm clock resting on the nightstand which told him it was almost eight o'clock at night.

He had literally been fighting for almost thirteen hours with very little time for rest. It had been an endless cycle of movement ever since the outbreak first occurred two nights ago, and even in between he hadn't been able to enjoy a decent night's rest.

The bed called out to him and he knew it would be risky, leaving himself at the mercy of any would-be attackers, yet it drew him in like a magnet and once he sat down on it, his body suddenly felt very heavy and he fell backward with his head landing on the soft, fluffy pillow.

"_I shouldn't be doing this…" _he thought as he looked towards the room's lone window, the moonlight shining in brightly.

Jake Cavanaugh couldn't do a thing about it as the overpowering urge to sleep finally took over and with it, his eyelids offered little resistance as he slowly passed out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**September 27, 1998**

A cacophony of sirens cut through the nighttime air, followed by the screeching of several pairs of tires, jolting Jake from his rest.

The hitman bolted upright in bed and quickly rubbed the crust away from his eyelids. Looking over to the clock next to him, he saw that it was now 3:30 in the morning.

"Shit!" he hissed, noting he had been out for over seven hours. Granted, he felt refreshed and everything, but still felt like he had wasted too much time.

Blue and red lights flickered from below and he made his way over to the window to see what was going on.

Down below, a convoy of patrol cruisers had formed a disjointed circular barricade, and a dark blue van was just arriving. As soon as it halted, the back doors flew open and an entire unit of heavily-armed S.W.A.T. officers clad in their full black and blue riot gear piled out from within. Within seconds they had taken their positions along with several uniformed officers, who were armed with regular handguns and shotguns.

"_So there are still other officers left alive in this city after all," _Jake thought, until he looked over to his right and saw what the men were pointing at. _"But for how much longer?"_

An entire cavalcade of the undead came marching towards them, their all too present chorus of moans droning out any other noises.

"Damn," Jake muttered, _"Not as bad as Main Street, but still…too damn many of those rotting bastards."_

He watched as a small group of survivors emerged from another apartment complex further down the street, directly in front of the storming horde. A few of them were too petrified to move and were quickly taken down by the ravenous monsters, while a few others had attempted to run, but tripped over their colleagues and were swarmed upon mercilessly.

For those whose survival instincts had kicked in immediately, they ran as quickly as they could toward the waiting officers. One of the cops, a tall African-American with a crewcut, stepped out from behind the barricade and began frantically waving them forth, while others stepped aside so the frightened townspeople could pass through.

The flutter of helicopter blades drew the hitman's attention upward and he watched an R.P.D. chopper flew overhead, stopping to drop off snipers at random locations.

Meanwhile, the army of undead continued to grow, more zombies piling out from the surrounding alleys, shops and apartment complexes, now making their presence felt with the increase of human activity.

They marched forward in their shambling gaits, unafraid of the weapons pointed at them, which could have scared any human in their right mind into submission. Then again, they were completely oblivious to any possible perils around them, driven only by their collective urge to feed.

Over the moans and from even behind a closed window, Jake could hear a powerful voice holler a single word that would spring the officers into action.

"FIRE!!!"

A thunderous explosion echoed throughout the area as numerous firearms discharged simultaneously. An entire barrage of handgun, shotgun and rifle ammo tore through the zombies at the front of the pack, knocking a few of them down to the ground, but only making the others stagger backward as the bullets ripped across their torsos and sent congealed blood gushing from their fresh wounds. As one wave fell, another was there to take its place, trampling over their fallen colleagues as they pressed onward.

Many of the officers panicked as their rounds were shown to have little or no effect on the "rioters" marching for them. A few standing towards the back stopped firing completely as they noticed some of their attackers rising back to their feet after taking rounds that rightfully should have killed them. They even watched as a few of the zombies crawled after them, despite their missing legs and lower bodies.

It was a frustrating sight for Jake to watch and he wanted to open the window and scream down to the officers _"Aim for their heads you fucking idiots!" _but doubted they would be able to hear him over the pops and booms of their weapons.

Beneath the shambling mass, he had managed to pick out a few bodies though that had fallen down and stayed down, perhaps the victims of the much needed head shots.

By now, a majority of the officers had been forced to reload, yet there were others there to back them up, doing whatever they could to halt the onslaught. The hitman had watched with interest as one of the S.W.A.T. officers had begun dropping several of the zombies with head shots and a few others had begun to adopt his tactic and the number of zombies dying for good had begun to increase, but it was too late.

The zombies were rapidly converging and things were getting desperate as most of the cops fired sloppy shots into the mass, looking to hit anything they could as they slowly backed away.

One S.W.A.T. officer at the front of the barricade fired everything he had left from his MP5, so trapped in a blind panic he walked backward into an opened car door and stumbled to the ground, sandwiching the uniformed officer who stood behind it.

It was there that the zombies finally broke through and the real horror began.

Jake could only wince in anguish as the other officers continued to fire madly into the relentless zombies, many of them forcing their way through the small openings between the police vehicles and clawing their way over the hoods.

For those who stayed to fight, a ghastly end awaited them.

Many of the terrified officers had expended most of their ammo fighting for their lives and were quickly overtaken by their ghoulish assailants, tackled to the ground and quickly torn apart, their blood splattering all over their black and white patrol cars.

Utter chaos erupted as the surviving officers fought to escape the undead throng that had now begun to pour through. Jake could hear an officer calling out for everybody to fall back, but his plea was muted by the sounds of ripping flesh, breaking bones and blood-curdling screams of torture.

Those who heard the call struggled to make their way around their awkwardly parked cars and over the bodies piling up underneath them, both of the zombies and their own comrades. S.W.A.T. officers especially had it hard, their mobility hampered by the heavy riot gear they lugged around.

The hitman strained his eyes as the zombies continued to press through the once fortified area, making it hard for him to tell who was human and who was a zombie. Looking beyond the ransacked barricade, he managed to spot a handful of officers who had made it out alive and were making their way back to anyplace they assumed to be safe.

One of the S.W.A.T. officers though had remained behind firing away into the undead mass with a Colt M4A1 assault rifle. At first, Jake thought it was meant to be some kind of heroic last stand, but then he saw what the man was fighting for.

Pinned beneath a pile of zombies was another officer being viciously torn into and reaching helplessly for his would-be savior while the other man did everything he could to get the zombies off, but was failing miserably.

Jake watched as three other officers came back and tried to drag the S.W.A.T. officer away, one of them being the African-American cop he had seen waving the civilians over earlier. The man was armed with a Benelli shotgun and fired away into the approaching zombies, but then running out of ammo and then swinging his shotgun at his attackers like it was a baseball bat.

Eventually he too would have to be pulled away by his colleagues and they retreated down the street and out of sight.

"Damn," was all Jake could say after witnessing what had just transpired below. An entire platoon of highly-trained, heavily armed police officers had just been dismantled like they were nothing. Even though he did not hold law enforcement in the highest regards, he was still left speechless by the gory scene below, which was ten times worse than any of the previous full-scale gun battles he had been involved in the past.

"_Even worse than the other small massacres I've seen so far. This one takes the cake," _he told himself as the zombies continued to savage the corpses of those who hadn't been fortunate enough to escape.

The young man's eyes suddenly widened as he realized what was next to come.

Many of the zombies towards the back of the group had begun to lose interest in the feast they would likely never reach at the barricade and instead began to set their sights on other possibilities. Perhaps able to sense his presence, some of the zombies began to break away from the pack and make their way over to the building he was currently in and they were squeezing their way in through the front doors with no signs of slowing down.

With no time to waste, Jake rushed back into the living room and gathered his belongings, going through every minute detail to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, that every strap on his Kevlar vest was fastened, his laces were tied tightly enough, that every gun was fully loaded and so forth.

He made his way over to the closest window, where a fire escape waited for him. Forcing the window open, he stuck one leg out and followed with the other, not even bothering to shut it behind him. Quickly making his way down a short flight of stairs to a second floor window, he heard the moans turn to ravenous snarls, thinking some of those zombies down below may have taken notice of him.

Jake ignored the threatening sounds and brought the stock of his shotgun up to smash the second floor window in front of him. Clearing away any large shards, he then squeezed his way inside and found himself inside another vacant apartment. He had to get out fast and didn't take any time to search for anything useful, making his way straight for the front door.

"_Alright, there should be a back door to this place somewhere," _the hitman thought, making his way down the hall. _"There's gotta be some way I can bypass that alley with those infected animals feasting on those corpses, if they're still around that is," _reminding himself that it was over seven hours ago when he last saw those demonic canines and crows lurking about.

He moved with his back to the wall, listening intently as he could hear the zombies pushing their way through the first floor and destroying everything in sight. How he would get out without attracting too much attention was getting tougher and tougher by the second.

"Alright guys c'mon, we've gotta get the fuck outta here!"

A voice called out from one of the apartments Jake stood near, forcing him to stop and keep his shotgun protectively raised.

To his knowledge, he had been the only person in the entire building when he took refuge there the night before. Whoever these new people were, chances are they had snuck inside while he was passed out.

"Gather up all the guns and money you can!" the same voice ordered.

"Dude, fuck the money!" another man protested, "We need to focus on getting the hell outta here before those slow moving fucks can get up here!"

"Yeah, all that money's just gonna slow us down Ollie," a third voice joined in. "All we should worry about is getting out of here or else we're gonna end up like our buddies!"

"Don't you jackasses realize a chance like this doesn't come around too often?" the man identified as Ollie retorted, "We bring the money with us we can start over somewhere else and rebuild the Jokers!"

"_The Jokers…shit!" _Jake thought to himself, remembering the dead purple-clad gang members he found in the library, the ones who were gunned down by Jorge Ruiz. _"It's fucking Armageddon outside and all those pathetic slugs still care about is filling their pockets. True scumbags in the finest sense of the word."_

He backed up a little and still kept his shotgun raised at eye level, knowing they were definitely no good punks who would be looking for trouble as soon as they spotted him.

"No way man, we can't have the Jokers without Smiley and the other lieutenants," a whimpering fourth voice spoke up, reminding him of the disc jockey who had committed suicide over the air.

"Smiley is dead and we can have the Jokers without him!" Ollie snarled, "I'm going to carry on the gang and you can be with me or against me. It's your choice!"

"And just who the fuck died and left you in charge?" the second man shouted, "It sure as hell wasn't Smiley!"

"Man, you need to step the fuck off!" Ollie growled, followed by the clicking of a gun, "Smiley always thought you were a lightweight anyway Remy, always complaining about how we were too wild and shit. I'd be doing a huge favor to his memory by blowing your fucking head off right here, right now!"

"Will both of you please stop fighting this instant?" the panicked third man pleaded, "Can't you see those zombies are already inside here? We've gotta get somewhere safe now!"

"And where the hell is safe, Jules?" the same whiny fourth Joker asked, "Those things are everywhere!"

"Yeah…like that bug thing that cut up Bozo, or those dogs that tore Numbers apart before we got here!" a previously silent fifth man added, his tone sounding distant and haunted.

"Alright, all of you just shut the fuck up and listen!" Ollie boomed over his friends' bickering, "There's a car dealership not too far away from here. We get over there and get a car and then hightail it out on the side streets, where we're less likely to find all those zombies."

"But what about the Army?" Remy interjected, "Haven't you heard they have this entire city surrounded? I bet the second they see us we're dead! Fucking dead man!"

"And who says we can't spare a little green to let them help us out?" Ollie spoke up again, referring to the money they possessed, "You'd be surprised at how 'helpful' some people become when you promise them some time with their 'favorite presidents.' Look at the cops for Pete's sake!"

Worried murmuring amongst the other Jokers followed, while their self-appointed leader continued to plead his case.

"Besides, there's plenty of sewage tunnels around here, that's probably how those damned Rooks managed to get all those rifles in a few months back. We could probably find one that'll take us to Stone Ville. Latham is too far away and Springvale is a no go. I heard that Kingsley bitch from the Rooks has contacts there."

Jake decided he had heard enough and started to creep away, until he heard another noise stopping him dead in his tracks.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

"_Not again! Looks like something else snuck in too," _the hitman thought as he whirled around with his weapon raised, scanning the shadows for any abrupt movement. He could only use his ears as his guide as he stalked through a shadowy portion of the hall.

Unfortunately, he was so caught up with finding the red-skinned demon that he had lost focus on everything else and bumped into a large vase, knocking it over and shattering it into a million pieces.

Zooming in on the origin of the noise, the monster came flying into sight like a large red heat-seeking missile, latching itself on the nearest wall and gasping menacingly.

Jake pumped his shotgun, but the beast heard the sound and leapt away before he could even squeeze off his round.

The undeterred beast ricocheted off the opposite wall and drew its arm back in midair, bringing it forward in a slash directed at its target's throat.

Instinctively throwing himself to the floor, Jake barely dodged another swipe that would surely have decapitated him. Scrambling for anything he could find, the hitman reached into his coat and pulled out his magnum, firing round after round at the monster.

His first two rounds had missed, but his four other rounds managed to connect, causing the creature to convulse violently with every direct hit until it was knocked onto its back and pitifully slashing its claws at anything it could. Reaching down for his shotgun, the hired gun pumped the mighty weapon and fired a round of buckshot into the red demon's face from a safe distance.

"What the fuck?"

Jake looked up to see the five Jokers had now stepped out into the hallway, all of them in matching purple jackets. At the front of the group was a man a few inches shorter than him whose lime green hair, normally worn in a Mohawk, had been matted down into a mess barely kept away from his eyes, along with a goatee dyed the exact same shade and a face covered in piercings. He held an AK-47, while the others held either machine pistols or regular handguns, all of their aims wavering in a visible display of fear.

The hitman saw how all of them appeared to be on edge, especially the rifle-toting thug, again finding himself in more than one crosshair at once.

"Must be one of those Rook bitches," the leader seethed, his voice recognized as that of Ollie, "You sure dress like one boy!"

"Relax, I'm not with the Rooks and I'm not with the cops either!" Jake shouted, wanting to get that last tidbit before they jumped to conclusions. He honestly knew there was probably no way around these punks like there was with Kendo, but still needed to buy himself some time.

"Well whoever you are, we sure as hell have no idea who the fuck you are!" Ollie hollered.

The moans of the undead still echoed from below and the other Jokers were becoming more visibly frightened.

"C'mon Ollie, why are we wasting our time with this loser?" asked a Joker in a beanie, wielding a TEC-9 machine pistol.

"Yeah, let's get the hell outta here before those freaking zombies get to us!" called out another, who hefted a heavy blue duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You know what, fuck him!" spoke another with long aqua blue hair and carrying a Beretta of his own, Jake connecting his voice to the one called "Remy."

"And just what the fuck are you saying?" Ollie shouted over his shoulder, not wanting to take his aim away from the hitman.

"I'm saying that we're fucking leaving your ass and getting the hell outta here like we should've a long time ago!" Remy hollered back, the other Jokers nodding in unison. "If we keep following your punk ass, then you're going to get every single one of us killed." He then looked to the others before speaking again, "Fuck rebuilding the Jokers and fuck you!"

Those words were the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

Completely forgetting about Jake, Ollie whirled around and fired a burst into his fellow Joker's chest, sending the man crumpling to the floor.

The other Jokers panicked and two of them raised their guns, only to be cut down in a vengeful burst of fire, leaving only one frightened young man in a 'do rag, who almost looked as if he was a boy barely out of high school.

"And just what do you have to say for yourself, you damned little poseur you?" Ollie sinisterly asked, swaying back and forth in a truly demented fashion as he kept the gun trained on the younger man.

"_Damn, that sick fuck's going to enjoy that," _Jake thought to himself as he pumped his shotgun, prompting the insane hooligan to spin around with an almost inhuman speed. Before he could even fire, the man had already thrown himself to the floor and again opened fire.

Lying sideways on the ground had hampered the gang member's aim, sending his bullets flying wildly around. The cramped space made it too difficult for Jake to return fire and he retreated down the hall, hoping to find a corner or another opened door where he would be able to find cover for his counterattack.

Ollie fired wildly at the fleeing black-clad man, laughing hysterically as he watched his bullets tear through all available surfaces; confident he would soon hit the man and splatter his blood all over the place, until his rifle clicked empty.

Jake heard the man's assault rifle clicking empty and with it, his maniacal laughter ceased. He watched as the green-haired man frantically dug his hands through his pockets in search of another clip, but was coming up short. The younger unnamed Joker meanwhile, had managed to get away and was nowhere to be found.

Raising his SPAS-12, he finally managed to get off his round and caught the Joker in the stomach, sending the man crumpling back to the floor on his side.

The moans of the zombies continued to get closer and by now, he could make out the shuffling of heavy footsteps. Making his way over to a door leading to the western stairwell, Jake looked through the porthole and quickly leapt back.

An entire group of zombies had already made its way up to the second floor and were just inches away from plowing through the wooden door. One of the zombies at the front of the horde suddenly sprung to life with renewed vigor and pressed against the glass, gnashing its teeth savagely.

"Time to go," the hired gun said to himself and made his way down the opposite end, briefly looking down to the wounded Joker. The man was barely alive and slipping away quickly, a massive pool of blood having already formed underneath him thanks to the massive hole in his midsection. "Goodbye to you, you sick bastard!"

The hefty blue duffel bag lay near one of the Jokers whom Ollie had murdered. Jake figured that was probably the money they were talking about. Naturally, it was tempting to take it, but he knew it would be worthless given the circumstances the city had fallen under.

"_Besides, I'm a hitman, not a thief," _Jake told himself as he kicked the bag aside and didn't look back, not wanting to give in to temptation. He needed to carry what was important for his survival, not be slowed down by greed.

"_Don't wanna end up like them," _he thought as he looked down to the corpses of the others before he remembered that younger Joker who had managed to get away while he distracted Ollie, wondering what had become of him.

The stairwell entrance door was knocked from its hinges as the army of zombies came marching through, wasting no time in their pursuit of the lone surviving human before them.

"_Damn, it's almost as if they understand the concept of liking a meal that plays hard to get," _Jake said to himself as he noticed that they seemed solely focused on him rather than taking advantage of the fresh corpses littering the floor. He took off running in the opposite direction and was about to make a turn around the corner when he heard a dying human shriek from within the building.

"_Looks like I just found out what happened to that other guy," _he thought as he opened the door to the opposite stairwell and was again stopped.

Yet another group of zombies had already made it to the opposite side of the building and had made their way up the stairs, cutting off his attempted retreat and forcing him back into the hall, where the others had already caught up to him.

"Terrific," he hissed aloud, finding himself backed into a corner with nowhere else to go. He raised his shotgun and fired into the zombies closest to him, knocking them backwards, doing whatever he could to buy himself some extra time and think up some form of escape plan.

"_And I have to think fast!"_

Author's Note: Don't you just love those cliffhangers? Even further, don't you just have to love those variations on the famous (or should I say "infamous") barricade massacre sequence from the opening of Nemesis?

I know from watching the opening sequence the sky has traces of red in the background, suggesting that the scene must take place in either the early morning or evening hours, but for storyline's sake I'm placing this at 3:30 in the morning, especially since I have a lot of events planned.

I also base this on continuity based on what I've seen on the Resident Evil Wikia site.

I know the opening "Nemesis" cinema pretty much implies that the barricade massacre takes place on the same day U.B.C.S. touches down in Raccoon City (where you see the aforementioned lightened sky that Crow T R0bot pointed out for me when he was beta reading this chapter), but the site suggests differently.

On Sept. 26th, U.B.C.S. touches down and I made it in the early morning hours, which is why I have my "Deadly Respite" chapter take place around that time period.

On Sept. 27th, that's when the barricade massacre sequence takes place, and I believe that's also the first time a "Licker" makes its presence felt within the walls of the R.P.D., I'd have to look up files in regards to that right there.

So yeah, I don't know if that's just an honest continuity error on Capcom's behalf or what, but at the same time it's me making an original spin on things.

Well alright, I think I've ranted and raved enough by this point, so please read and review or else the R.P.D. is gonna bust your ass like they do those white trash rednecks on "COPS!"


	17. Ch 16: Strength in Numbers

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Yeah, I know I've been away for a while, been having to deal with another descent into the bottomless pit of "Writer's Block," as well as a job that's required me to go to bed earlier at night to wake up at the crack of dawn, so I've been "below the radar" as a result.

To help me overcome this slump, I've decided to rewrite what was originally Chapter 16 of this story entitled "Among the Hunted." Following a warning from my beta reader Crow T R0bot, who warned me about long, drawn out chapters possibly boring my readers, I've decided to try splitting this into two, so here is the first part and hopefully it will pull me out of my slump.

Now on with the story!

Chapter 16: Strength in Numbers

_"Come on, think damn it! Think!"_

The zombies closed in on Jake from both sides in the cramped hallway, backing him into a corner. Time was not on his side, but he refused to give in and desperately searched his mind for answers.

Pumping his SPAS-12, he fired a salvo of buckshot into a bloated man wearing a butcher's apron, knocking him backward into several others and kicked another zombie that had nearly grazed him with an attempted swipe. A woman in a soiled burgundy sweater then attempted to slash him and he leapt back, his elbow connecting with a window that shuddered beneath his weight.

_"Damn, why didn't I think of that sooner?" _Jake thought to himself as he kept his eyes trained on the zombies, reaching out his free hand to feel the cool glass upon his bare fingertips. _"Then again, situations like this don't help your thought process much."_

The hitman fired another burst into the horde, blowing the arm off of a man in a sullied raincoat and knocking a few other zombies off course, but killing none of them. He turned around to fire a burst into the window, when he heard an unexpected sound at the worst time possible.

CLICK!

Before Jake could curse at his own misfortune, he felt a pair of hands latching onto his shoulders and trying to pull him backward, the rancid breath washing down his neck and making his skin crawl in a bunch of different directions.

"Fuck off!!!" he grunted as he pulled himself forward and threw the zombie over his shoulder. Keeping his head low to avoid the sets of rotting hands still reaching for him, he charged for the window and instinctively threw his arms in front of his face as he dove through.

The loud crash made the young man's ears ring as he fell through the air, glass shards tearing through the fabric of his trench coat and into his flesh. His fall had been much shorter than he expected as there was another dumpster waiting for him there.

Another crash sounded as he landed, following by a painful sting shooting up and down his right leg.

Looking down to where his leg rested, he found a discarded window frame lying beneath it and the large shards that had once been there, having torn through the fabric of his pants and sticking out of his leg.

"Damn it…" he hissed, quickly taking his vision away from the gruesome sight and looking towards the top, pushing himself upward and struggling to climb over the slick bags, jagged debris and rancid sticky substances inside before grabbing onto the ledge and pulling himself to his feet. His leg throbbed all the while and he nearly screamed out in pain when he bumped it against the dumpster's rusty surface, but he bit his tongue and finally pulled himself out, falling flat on his ass.

The procession of zombies still moved past the alley in which he stood, some of them taking notice of his presence and beginning to break away from the pack, staggering towards him with a renewed vigor that hastened their normally shambling movements.

With all those zombies around him, he didn't have time to let the pain slow him down and forced himself back to his feet, ignoring the blood flowing out of his leg wounds and dribbling onto the pavement. He didn't have time for such weakness if he wanted to survive.

Placing some pressure upon his sore leg to make sure nothing was broken, he sighed in relief when nothing gave and he was left standing upright. Reaching into his coat, he withdrew another hand grenade and pulled the pin, rolling it towards the oncoming menaces.

Whirling around, Jake limped away as quickly as he could and clamped his hands over his ears as the grenade detonated. He didn't even bother to turn around and assess the damage; he just ignored the excruciating pain the best he could and kept running.

Unfortunately, he didn't get very far as he started to feel light-headed and braced himself against a graffiti-lined wall, exhaling deeply as he looked down at his blood-drenched right tennis shoe.

In the distance he could hear the sounds of ripping flesh and peered out to find another barricade blocking him from a group of zombies feasting upon unseen victims. They appeared ignorant of his presence, for which he remained thankful.

His next order of business now was to find some safe place where he could rest a few minutes and tend to his bleeding leg.

Limping through the back alley, he carefully scanned the back doors and listened closely for any sounds from within before checking to see whether or not they were locked. Most of them were locked as he expected, until he happened across a door leading to a storage shed and made his way inside, locking the door behind him.

Making his way down a short flight of stairs, the hitman found himself in a cramped space containing a bunch of unused office and restaurant supplies, but nothing of practical use for his current situation.

Jake sat down at a small desk and carefully pulled his tattered pant leg up, shaking away tiny glass fragments as he rolled it up past his knee. Right away he knew he needed to get the larger shards out first. Finding a nearby roll of paper toweling, he wadded up a couple pieces and stuck them in his mouth to bite down upon.

_"Never done this before, but there's always a first for everything," _he thought to himself as he carefully pinched a large piece between his thumb and index fingers. Mentally counting to three, he pulled on the piece, but had to stop as the blood coating his fingers made it hard for him to maintain his grip and the pain caused him to grimace uncontrollably. Taking in another deep breath, he gritted his teeth and didn't even bother to count down, letting out a stifled grunt as he finally ripped the jagged shard from his leg.

"Son of a bitch," Jake grumbled as the bloody shard fell to the floor and he quickly ripped off some additional paper toweling to apply pressure to the gushing wound. He really needed to get this taken care of or else he was going to bleed to death.

Moving a little more hastily, he pulled a few more fragments from his opened wounds until he made sure he had gotten everything. Now that he had a little more time to relax, he continued to feel carefully along his leg for any broken bones from the recent spill. He still felt nothing, something which he remained grateful for.

"Now to stop this bleeding…" he told himself as he weakly reached into his side pack and pulled out his can of Umbrella first-aid spray, his gauze pads, a sterile bandage and the hemostat pills he had completely forgotten about.

With no water around to wash them down with, he shoved the two red and white pills into his mouth and gulped them down. He exhaled deeply afterward and reached for the first-aid spray.

Again, he grunted in agony as the substance sprayed onto his opened wounds. It burned as it sunk in and he had to do everything in his power to resist scratching, knowing it would only make things worse. The can clattered to the floor beside him and he had to clasp his hands together to keep himself from scratching, grunting repeatedly until he could feel the stinging sensation subside.

Sighing quietly, he finally allowed his hands to fall limply to his sides. Looking down to see many of the streams of blood flowing from his wounds had slowed and were beginning to clot, he smiled at the small triumph.

Having temporarily solved the problem, Jake nearly used up the rest of the roll to clean the blood from his leg, followed by the minor wounds on his arms, and also applied some first-aid spray as an added precaution to prevent any infections. Grabbing some gauze pads, he applied them to the most serious wounds on his legs and then carefully wrapped the bandages around until he was certain he had covered everything.

"Not exactly good as new, but it'll have to do for now," he told himself as he reloaded his shotgun, _"Better than allowing myself to just stay and be turned into a five course meal."_

Carefully, the hired gun rose to his feet and practiced applying pressure to the injured limb, wanting to make sure he would be able to move around. It still hurt like a bitch and left him wishing he had some painkillers on him, but he continued to move forth, forcing himself to soldier onward like he had so many times in the past.

Reentering the alley, he looked to his right to find some of the zombies from earlier had managed to catch up, though lingering at a safe enough distance for him to escape. He then hobbled away through a nearby gate. It was so badly rusted it fell from its hinges as it slammed shut behind him.

More nearby zombies had been attracted by the metallic clatter and came stumbling out from around the nearest corner, led by a sandy blond-haired man in a green and black plaid shirt with most of his face peeled away. There weren't too many though, so Jake withdrew one of his Berettas, dropping each of them with direct head shots.

Knowing more would eventually be attracted by the gunshots; Jake continued moving down the alley until he was led to a sparsely populated car park behind a large building, where a few zombies lingered about. Some swayed in place, waiting for any fresh meat to wander their way, while a few of them feasted on the corpse of a man in a bus driver's jacket. Not wanting to risk another battle due to his injury, the hired gun holstered his Beretta, but drew his katana as a precaution.

Positioning himself near a blue and white muscle car, he moved around the front of the car in the narrow space between it and the chain link fence, avoiding a lone zombie in a public transit worker's uniform. He then moved between an S.U.V. and an old red van and was about to move out into the open, when an animalistic snarl sounded from behind.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Jake instinctively spun around with his sword raised and sliced the head clean off of a zombie that had been hidden from plain sight by the van.

Another zombie had taken notice of the approaching human and began staggering towards him with its rotten teeth bared. The hitman ran his blade through the infected human's chest and used his free hand to deliver a hard knockout punch to its face, temporarily incapacitating his foe, but not killing it.

As he backed away, his right leg connected with an overturned steel trashcan, sending a fresh shockwave of pain up his leg that forced him to yelp aloud and nearly collapse to the ground clutching his throbbing limb.

"Ugh…son of a bitch!" he yelped, fighting off the crippling sensation.

The other zombies were now alerted and lost interest in their previous meal, staggering towards the stunned hired gun, who struggled to shrug away the pain.

"God…damn it!" Jake rasped as he pushed off on his good leg, bolting out of the enclosed lot and towards the building, where an abandoned city bus was still parked outside. A back door stood wide open and he made his way over towards it, slamming it shut behind him.

"Fuck!" he shouted and finally collapsed against a wall, his voice still echoing distantly in the cavernous room.

He had been shot and stabbed a few times before, but these particular wounds seemed to hurt worse than ever. Breathing heavily in his slouched position, he shook his leg wildly, doing what he could to rid himself of that burning sensation engulfing his bloodied leg.

The building he was in appeared to be the main garage for the city's mass transit system, another bus hoisted with its front tires removed and a second with its engine exposed and a toolbox abandoned nearby. All the other buses were gone and probably smashed to pieces at various locales around the city, judging by what he had seen earlier. That one he had seen outside appeared untouched, but it was doubtful the keys were anywhere to be found.

_"Don't have time to hotwire it either," _he told himself, knowing by now those zombies from outside would be closing in. That, plus he had never hotwired anything larger than a regular car.

Jake waited for the brunt of the pain to subside before he dared to rise back to his feet again. Only now did he realize how darkened the room was outside of the spheres of light provided by some flickering floodlights overhead. It was a discomforting environment that had him raising his shotgun and switching on the attached flashlight.

Scoping out the darkened areas for any threats, he found large pools of blood and several chewed up human limbs scattered about. Moans of the zombies that had been pursuing him now filtered in through the thick walls and the sight of another nearby door had him wanting to get out of this dark, open space as soon as possible.

Just as his hand touched the cool steel of the door handle, the hired gun strained his ears as a small, distinct sound filtered in from the distance, the scampering of a creature with more than two legs.

Whirling around with his gun raised, his light shone upon a ravenous Golden Labrador, its peeling flesh more visible thanks to the brightness of its formerly immaculate coat. Globules of blood and torn flesh sprayed from the mutated dog's mouth as it leapt in for the kill.

A single blast from Jake's shotgun obliterated the canine's cranium and its headless body skidded to a halt before him, almost making contact with his grimy sneakers.

Entering the adjoining hallway, he was met by three more zombies who had already been wandering in his direction and suddenly shot their arms out upon sighting him.

_"Like shooting fish in a barrel," _Jake thought as he holstered his shotgun and went for his Beretta, firing what remained of his clip into the three approaching cadavers.

_"Some very butt ugly fish at that," _he told himself as he turned a corner and found the desiccated remains of an employee they had been feasting on. At the end of the hall was a door leading to the administrative offices, and with nowhere else to go, he continued forth.

Carefully inching his way inside with his gun drawn, he found the entire office space in complete disarray. Desks were overturned, cubicle walls were knocked down, filing cabinets were knocked over with their contents spilling out, shattered computer monitors still sparked and threatened to ignite any papers that lay nearby, and broken glass littered every inch of flooring he could see. Numerous bodies were splayed out, and the sounds of heavy masticating indicated the inhabitants still weren't finished with their "early morning snacks."

More zombies were present, Jake estimating their numbers to be in the upper teens, enough to make him withdraw his second Beretta.

"Don't worry, I promise to make it quick," the hitman smirked before dropping a man in a bus driver's uniform with a round between the eyes and then repeating the same process with a woman in a black and white dress suit.

He really couldn't feel any pity for the former humans that now stood before him, knowing they saw him as nothing more than a hunk of fresh meat. In a way, by executing each and every one of them, he felt like he had been doing a favor for the person they once were.

In a methodical fashion, he cut through the approaching zombies without remorse. More rose into view, distracted from their previous feasts by the gunfire, and tried to approach him, but were tripped up by the debris scattered about.

"That's right, keep on coming you rotting bastards," Jake growled and shot down a lanky man that had barely been able to stumble towards him with the compound fracture in his right leg, then taking down another man whose right hand had been gnawed off before both of his guns clicked dry. Cursing quietly, he retreated behind another desk and ejected both spent clips.

The ear-splitting rattle of machine gun fire filled the air before the hitman could step back into the open, watching as each of the zombies fell in succession as their heads were popped open like blood-filled balloons.

Not wanting to be mistaken for a zombie, Jake quickly ducked down and began crouch-walking along the cubicle walls, listening to the volley and what direction it was coming from. By the time his mysterious helper had stopped to reload, he had already pinpointed the location and peeked his head out to get a look at the man.

A tall man clad in full riot gear fired upon the approaching zombies with an M4A1 assault rifle, similar to the one the hitman had once carried. He was covered in blood, brains and God knows what else, leaving Jake to wonder whether or not he had been one of the officers who had managed to escape from the barricade massacre.

The officer suddenly stopped firing and surveyed his kills from a safe distance, only lowering his rifle slightly. His breathing appeared to slow and he carefully backed up.

Hopeful the man had loosened up enough by now; Jake stood up and carefully approached the officer with his weapons lowered. _"It's worth a try at least. I doubt he's looking to arrest anybody at a time like this, especially when I have a legitimate reason for defending myself."_

The riot officer took notice of the black-clad man approaching him and raised his weapon with his flashlight attachment on, forcing Jake to shield his eyes.

"Freeze, R.P.D.! Drop your weapons and put your hands up!" the cop shouted.

Jake was almost perplexed by the man's order, but then took notice of four ragged bullet holes in the man's vest.

_"Crap, looks like someone else tried to kill him too," _Jake thought, recalling his own encounters with the crazed, gun-toting survivors he had happened across during his own journey.

"Relax officer, I'm a human!" the hitman spoke and carefully lowered his guns. "I was trying to find some refuge from those freaks outside. I mean you no harm; I just want to get the hell out of here and to any place safe."

The S.W.A.T. officer didn't reply immediately and carefully scanned the random streetwalker, "Alright, is there anybody else with you?"

"No sir, I'm here all by myself," Jake replied, "I haven't seen anybody else around since last night." He purposely left out the Jokers, knowing none of them had escaped that apartment complex alive. Kendo, he didn't know about him and questioned if he was even still alive himself.

"McGraw, are you alright?" a voice called from the hall, "I heard gunfire."

"I've found a survivor," the officer shouted to his unseen companion and then looked over to Jake, cocking his head towards the door, "Come with me."

Jake followed the officer into the hallway, where they were met by two of his colleagues.

Both of them wore tattered police uniforms covered in dirt, ash and dried blood and a thick layer of ashes covered their faces, suggesting they were recently in a burning building. The first man was an African-American who appeared to be in his early forties, with a long scrape running down the side of his high, wrinkled forehead. A Remington shotgun was in his right hand, and slung over his other shoulder was another officer.

The second man looked to be around the same age and was Caucasian. His short brown hair was worn in a crewcut and his skin was of a deathly pale shade. Jake's eyes widened as he noticed the multitude of bite marks covering his arms, including a large chunk that had been ripped away from his right shoulder, spilling blood all over the officer supporting him. An MP5 submachine gun was slung over the man's good shoulder, threatening to fall away at any second.

"Thank god," the black man said upon spotting Jake, genuinely grateful to see another surviving human being. "After all the shit that's been going on, I'm glad to see there's still another person left alive in this mess."

"I'm sure there still are more out there," the hired gun replied, "I came here for a vacation expecting to find some refuge in the mountains, away from the every day world, and then this shit happened."

"Sorry the brochure lied to you," the riot officer spoke up, "Trust me, it isn't always like this."

Jake nodded briefly at the comment, "Back to business though, I was over to J's Bar enjoying a meal when all things went to shit. I was there with a small group of people whom I managed to escape with and we were supposed to be transferred to the R.P.D., but then some giant freak blew up our van and we got separated.

"I ran into some members of my group again over at the Apple Inn and then was over to those safe houses you set up at both the bank and the library. To my knowledge, a few people managed to escape from both locations."

Both the riot officer and the black cop shuddered at the mention of the fallen safe houses, forced to relive their failures at protecting the large groups of citizens temporarily housed at both locations.

"Come to think of it, I did run into one of your fellow officers at that bar. His name was Kevin Ryman," Jake added.

Both of the officer's heads perked up right away at the mention of their colleague's name.

The riot officer raised his helmet's visor, exposing the dark blue eyes and light skin tone around them indicating he was Caucasian. "You saw Kevin?" he eagerly asked, "Where is he? Is he alright?" now getting in Jake's face. "Please tell me that guy's alright. I've lost too many friends after what happened back there…"

"He was fine when I last saw him. Like I said, he was part of that group of survivors I was riding with before we got attacked," Jake explained taking a step back, "He seemed like he knew what he was doing."

"He should be alright," the black officer spoke as he gently rested his wounded colleague against the wall, "Ryman's a bit of a goof and probably a little too laidback for his own good, but he's still a damned good cop when the time calls for it."

"Damn right he is," the riot officer spoke again, trying to lift his own spirits, "He's not the drunk slacker Irons always tries to make him out to be. That's for goddamn sure."

The black officer then returned his attention to Jake, "What's your name, sir?"

"Jake, Jake Smith," the hired gun replied reaching into his pocket for his wallet. "I have identification on me if you need proof."

"That won't be necessary right now," the uniformed officer replied, raising his free hand to halt him, "I'm Sgt. Donald Byrd with the Raccoon Police Department. Over there next to you is Officer David McGraw with our Select Police Force and behind me, is my partner Tim Glover," he explained, looking worriedly towards the sickly man, who suddenly broke into a coughing fit, one similar to Bob's shortly before he was about to transform.

"Pleased to meet you," David said offering a handshake to Jake, but then suddenly pulled back when he noticed the blood covering his gloved hand.

"We were heading over to the station when those bastards started coming out of the woodwork from all directions. So far, it looks like we're not going to find any shelter in here either," Donald continued, never having taken his eyes away from Tim as he spoke.

"Is there any idea as to who or what could have caused all of this?" Jake asked, hoping he could find out the extent of what the R.P.D. knew about these goings on and if they were at all suspicious about Umbrella's involvement.

"We have no clue exactly what caused all of this to tell you the truth," Donald said shaking his head. He then reached down to help Tim back to his feet, the latter of whom coughed heavily as he was yanked upward. Both David and Jake waited until they started moving before making their way down the hallway.

"Well I heard something a while back, it sounded totally outlandish until a couple days ago," David said to Jake, not caring if Donald was able to overhear their conversation or not. "I'm sure you probably heard at least some tidbit of news about those cannibal murders that occurred in the Arklay Mountains back in late July, right?"

Jake nodded, "Yeah, who hasn't?"

"Well we figured they were being carried out by some kind of 'cult' as Chief Irons put it. He ordered both of our S.T.A.R.S. units to mobilize and investigate the Spencer Estate and its surrounding area, sending Bravo Team in first. When they didn't come back, then he sent the Alpha Team in and that's where things get bizarre."

"Really?" the hitman asked as the quartet approached a door leading outside.

"By the end of the night, only five of them came back alive. They came back with these peculiar claims of zombies, mutants and some kind of manmade virus. They claimed Umbrella was behind everything and tried to go public with their supposed findings, but the chief wouldn't hear any of it and had them suspended indefinitely, claiming they were all suffering from paranoid delusions as a side effect of possible drug abuse."

"Must've been some pretty realistic 'delusions' then if only five of them came back alive. Whoever this Irons guy is, he sounds just as fucked up, if not worse," Jake grunted.

"You don't even know the half of it," Donald spoke up from behind, struggling as Tim nearly stumbled.

"You sure you don't need any help with him?" David asked as he readied to open the door.

"I'll be fine," Donald snapped as he rested his colleague against the wall.

_"Not unless you want him to try ripping your throat out," _Jake thought as he stared at the dying man. He was infected plain and simple. It would have been a wise move to just abandon the man before he could become any more of a danger to them, but knew his colleagues probably wouldn't stand for it.

_"We're walking around with a ticking time bomb in our hands," _he told himself as he noticed Tim's sickly complexion and the peeling skin, knowing it was only a matter of time before he turned on them. _"I understand the concept of 'no man left behind,' but there are limits and right now we've already crossed the line."_

The quartet made its way down another alley, able to hear the undead moans closing in on them from a distance. Desperation was divided equally amongst the four men as they moved about, but for Jake he felt the most secure than he had in a few hours. It wasn't only within his best interest to stick with the officers for "strength in numbers" sake, but it also gave him a short term goal in mind: reach the police station.

Jake followed David close behind until they reached the end, where the riot officer then motioned for him to stop and withdrew his opti-wand.

Creeping towards the opening, David waved his wand out into the open, only to freeze in place at what he saw.

Taking a position a few feet away from the riot officer, Jake remained silent as he listened for any report from the man, but could only watch as the man stared, stunned by whatever he was seeing.

Looking over his shoulder, Donald stood not too far away from him, concern etched into his weathered features. His gaze silently willed the hitman forth, needing somebody to check on his colleague's safety. Without a word, he began inching closer.

Sneaking up alongside the S.W.A.T. officer, he spotted a large crowd of zombies who staggered about drunkenly and far enough away from them where he figured they could possibly pull off a quiet escape.

"David!" he whispered, but received no reply. Finally, he patted the officer hard on his shoulder and the man showed signs of life.

"More of those things out there," Donald asked, creeping up to the duo with Tim nearly tipping over as he stopped.

"Yeah, if we keep it quiet though, we could probably get through without having to fire a single shot," Jake replied.

Without saying a word, David crept out into the open and took cover behind an abandoned pickup truck, waving Jake and the others over to the alleyway across from them.

The hitman waited for Donald to pick up the pace and crept over to the waiting riot officer's position, staying close enough as the older man struggled with his weakly partner.

With Donald and Tim making it over without incident, David soon followed after them and Jake would again bring up the rear flank. He continued to observe how the zombies loitered about, swaying around dumbly and of no serious threat at the moment. The multitude left him remembering the massacre he had witnessed and had barely escaped from when they made their way into the apartment complex where he had been hiding out.

In the distance, he swore he could hear the faint popping of firearms being discharged and how the zombies seemed to be entranced by the sound, grunting anxiously as some of them began moving away towards the source.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Not too far away, another motley crew of citizens battled for their survival in the necropolis.

"C'mon, this way!" a red-haired man called out in a thick Irish accent. He was dressed in soldier's garb and wielded a Colt M4A1 assault rifle, which he was currently using to pick off a group of pursuing zombies with single shots to their rotting craniums. The insignia of a red and white umbrella with two swords crossed over it indicated he was no ordinary member of any country's armed forces.

"Right behind you!" a young man in a police uniform shouted back, raising his H&K VP-70 handgun to fire a round into the face of a zombie in firefighter's gear that had gotten dangerously close to him.

Behind the officer were three more survivors, one a teenaged boy carrying a Glock-17 handgun, a slightly older brunette woman in a lavender sweater lugging a heavy backpack and holding a bloodied shovel in her free hand, and a red-headed woman carrying a police-issued Benelli shotgun.

Zombies emerged all around them, almost as if they were appearing from out of thin air. There were too many to fight and the group had spent nearly half an hour trying to find some safe place where they could stop and catch a breather. They were all tired, hungry and struggling to maintain their sanity.

"Any idea where to go from here?" the backpack-carrying woman asked, panting under the weight of the load she bore.

"I was supposed to get any survivors over to the St. Michael's Clock Tower," the soldier leading the charge explained, "We were told to get them over there and then ring the bell so we could alert the rescue chopper waiting in the suburbs."

"Well good luck with that then," the cop grunted, "That place is halfway across town."

"Not to mention you've got all these rotting assholes providing one huge, stinky, maggot-infested barrier," the teenager shouted.

"Guess we'll be making a pit stop then," the soldier shouted as he spotted a padlocked gate and withdrew and entrenching tool to break the lock.

The others saw where the soldier was headed and went to follow him, until the redheaded woman slipped and fell, crying out in pain.

"Bridgette!" the officer shouted, skidding to a halt and whirling on his heel to help her out.

"Help him!" the soldier ordered the teen, motioning towards the officer as he struggled to lift the woman to her feet.

The teen nodded and took a position at the fallen woman's other side, lifting her up beneath her other arm. He finally managed to get a good look at her leg. She had sustained a pretty bad scrape on her knee and was still in a lot of pain, but was hopeful she hadn't broken anything judging by her spill.

A loud metallic snap sounded as the soldier's e-tool sliced through the chain and the gate came swinging open. "Alright, everybody get over here now!"

One by one the survivors made their way into the alley.

Jake continued to provide cover for his group as David moved at the front with Donald dragging Tim in the middle, a daunting task that was sapping not only the veteran officer's willpower, but those tasked with guarding him as he carried out his duty.

"Okay…almost…" Donald grunted, just as his wounded partner finally collapsed face first onto the ground.

"Oh shit, help me damn it!" the sergeant hissed as he struggled to get the wounded man back to his knees. A crack had been heard as Officer Glover struck the ground and blood could already be seen dripping from both his nose and a fresh cut on his cheek.

David ran over and had just gotten one of his hands underneath the sick man's arm, "Alright, I've got him, n…ahh!!!"

With an animalistic ferocity, the once dying Tim Glover sprung to life and latched his teeth onto his colleague's covered collarbone, shaking his head wildly as he attempted to rip through the fabric.

"Gah…get the fuck off!" David shouted as he finally managed to punch the ravenous man off of him and send him collapsing against a brick wall.

With a hideous roar the wounded cop sprung back to his feet and again went for David, but the S.W.A.T. officer was quicker this time and brought up his nightstick in time for his now zombified colleague to bite into its wooden surface.

"Donald, help!" David pleaded as he wrestled with the now former Tim Glover, pinning him against the wall and driving his knee repeatedly into the man's stomach for little or no effect.

Jake watched as Donald stood off to the side with his shotgun raised. The older man breathed heavily and the firearm shook profusely in his hands, torn between a life and death situation for one of his colleagues.

"I can't do it!" the sergeant grunted, gripping his shotgun in white knuckled terror and nearly doubling over from the knots threatening to rip his stomach apart.

"C'mon, somebody fucking help already!" David cried out as he felt Tim's hands gripping his wrists, threatening to rip through his material at any second. His arms were already heavily strained as he struggled to keep his changed colleague at bay, the man's head still thrashing back and forth violently as he kept his nightstick jammed between the man's teeth, the only thing that was keeping him alive at this point.

The hitman had seen enough and raised his Beretta, not worried about what the veteran officer would think. Carefully lining up his sights, he squeezed the trigger and fired a round into the fresh zombie's arm, weakening its grip long enough for David to finally knock him to the ground. Again, it was of little use as Tim Glover pushed himself back to his feet and marched forth with his arms extended.

With both of his arms freed, David raised his rifle and fired a three shot burst into Glover's chest. The high velocity rounds tore through the former human's chest and he staggered backwards a few steps, only to resume his pursuit a second later.

David didn't want to do this, but he had to, and trained his rifle's sights on the head of what was once his colleague. It was going to be something he was going to regret for the rest of his life.

KA-BOOM!!!

Before he could even squeeze the trigger, the officer's head disappeared in a puff of red mist.

"What the fuck?" David asked aloud.

Jake looked beyond the horrific sight towards the source of the fatal blast.

Donald stood behind both of them with his now smoking Remington held at waist level. A haunted, faraway stare came from his dark brown eyes and his breathing suddenly began to pick up as he collapsed against a wall.

"Oh god, Donald," David gasped, ignoring the corpse of his former colleague and made his way over to the dazed man, "Snap out of it man, snap out of it!" he shouted as he slapped the man hard across the face.

Snapped back to reality by the forceful blow, Donald cried out and clutched his sore cheek, "Son of a bitch!"

"Come on," David said helping the man back to his feet, both their sets of eyes transfixed upon Tim Glover's body, as were Jake's.

"You think you'll be able to go on?" the S.W.A.T. officer asked.

"Yeah, y-yeah I can make it…" the sergeant replied nodding his head repeatedly, "…but hold on I-I just need to take something quick."

Both men watched as Donald knelt down and ripped the badge away from the dead man's bloodied shirt.

"I gotta have something to remember him by," Donald spoke as he used his thumb to wipe the blood away from the badge's metallic surface. "The people outside gotta remember who he was. His kids gotta know their daddy went down a hero."

"I understand," David said patting his colleague on the shoulder before kneeling down and taking the H&K MP5 from the dead man's body and offering it to Jake, "Here, you'd better take this," he said, practically shoving the submachine gun into his chest, "We're going to need all the firepower we can get."

"He didn't bite through to your skin did he?" Jake asked as he took notice of the ragged puncture marks over the officer's collarbone.

David suddenly remembered and used his fingers to push the shredded fabric aside, "No, no he didn't thank God. That was close though, too close for comfort."

"Well alright, we'd better get our asses in gear then," the hitman replied as he could hear the moans getting closer. Before they started out, he did manage to take a quick search of the deceased officer's body, finding two additional clips for the MP5 and an additional magazine for the Beretta, which he offered to David.

Just as they started to move, Jake looked over his shoulder to see a lone zombie stumbling into view, one that appeared oblivious to his presence. He wanted to get out of there before that one zombie could morph into a crowd.

"Did you hear that?" the soldier asked as he motioned for the crowd behind him to stop, "That sounded like a shotgun blast."

"Not to mention some automatic rounds," the officer spoke, "You think some of your buddies could be nearby?"

"Or maybe some of yours," the soldier replied, reaching for a radio attached to his uniform, "Report, this is Delta 6, anybody out there make yourselves known at once," he spoke into his receiver.

There was no reply, only static.

The officer then spoke into his shoulder-mounted radio, "Anybody out there, this is Rawlings, please make yourselves known at once. Anybody, please report."

_"Rawlings, I read you," _the voice of an older man called out.

A wave of relief fell over the young officer, as did the other members of his party, and he excitedly reached for his radio to respond.

"Sergeant-"

The relief was short lived as a set of double doors came flying open and yet another mob of hungry zombies came charging head on.

"RUN!!!"

Jake Cavanaugh, David McGraw and Donald Byrd cautiously made their way through the back alley with their weapons drawn. The hitman covered the rear with his newly acquired MP5, while the two R.P.D. officers moved in front of him side by side.

The two men chatted quietly amongst themselves, mostly discussing their families and any possible ideas they had if they managed to escape.

David initiated most of the conversation, doing whatever he could to help Donald maintain his sanity after having to eliminate his own partner. In turn, he seemed dependent upon any kind of interaction to maintain his own after having watched many more perish before his very eyes back on Ema Street.

They had further reason to rely upon each other as some form of distraction after receiving a radio transmission from a rookie officer named Rawlings, a faint glimmer of hope at another's survival evaporating within seconds upon the rattle of gunfire and the moans of the undead.

"Another kid lost in to this damned nightmare," Donald remarked, "lost before he could even have a chance to prove himself, lost before he could even live his life period."

At least they seemed like alright guys to him, not exactly the kind he would want to sit down and have a beer with, yet emitted airs of upstanding servitude and dedication to serving and protecting the citizens of their community. They weren't like some other cops he had interacted with, the shady kind who would shoot their own mother in the back for a dime, the kind who were truly worthy of the label "pig."

_"Not that I probably should care too much. Typically any 'upstanding officer' would be trying to haul my ass to the deepest, darkest cell they've got…that or six feet under," _Jake thought to himself before tapping the S.W.A.T. officer on his shoulder, "See anything yet?"

"Not yet, but hold up, we're coming to another turn," David replied and motioned for his two companions to halt. Reaching into his utility belt, he again pulled out the opti-wand and scanned the area for possible threats. "Alright, it's clear."

Taking point, David now moved to the front, while Jake moved up alongside Donald to form a crude triangular combat formation with the two men in the back covering the rear and sides.

The hired gun kept his ears trained for distant sounds, almost swearing he could hear the clanking of a chain striking the concrete. "Hold up, I hear something," he whispered and waved his MP5 around hoping to home in on the source.

"Something follow us?" Donald asked, looking above to make sure there wasn't anything scaling the walls above them in the darkened alley. David sensed his concern and again switched on his flashlight attachment.

The loud clanging of a trashcan being knocked over startled the three men and had David sweeping his light around until he finally spotted the rolling aluminum can.

"R.P.D., come out with your hands up!" David shouted towards the unseen visitor in his most authoritative tone.

Faint murmurs came from the darkness, sounding like more than one voice was present.

"Come on out, do it now!" the S.W.A.T. officer spoke, maintaining his all business edge, showing he wouldn't have time for the nonsense of a non-cooperative survivor if that were the case.

"Okay, please don't shoot!" a haggard, yet youthful male voice called out as the outline of a human being appeared from a distance.

Stepping into the light, it was a teenaged boy with short red hair who was wearing a bloodied black t-shirt and blue camouflage pants. A Glock-17 handgun hung loosely in his right hand, like he was getting ready to drop it.

However, once he caught sight of Jake his eyes suddenly lit up.

"Jake?" he asked before rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating and blinking them rapidly.

"Jason?" Jake replied, also not able to believe his own eyes right away. He couldn't believe it; the teenager had actually made it out alive after they were last separated from one another. "Holy shit, it's a miracle!"

"Jason Pierce," David spoke up next to the hitman like he knew the teen, causing the youth to stare dumbfounded at him. The cop suddenly removed both his riot helmet and balaclava worn underneath it to finally show his face to the world.

Aside from the sweat and filth covering his face, he was a rather youthful-looking officer who was probably around Jake's age, yet his clean-shaven appearance made him look a few years younger. His short brown hair had been matted down by the layers of sweat and his blue eyes gave off a pained demeanor from everything he had seen. Without his helmet, he appeared to stand around the same height as the hitman.

A look of shock crossed the teenager's face, one which quickly turned to anger as he furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth, "You!"

"Yeah, it's me, glad to see you've made it this far," the S.W.A.T. officer nodded back.

"Fuck you!" the teen hissed, much to the officer's chagrin. His tense movements made him look like he wanted to raise his gun, but knowing he was outnumbered he had to settle for growling in disgust and kicking a nearby trashcan as hard as he could.

"Hey, I know you and I have had our problems in the past, but now is not the time for this," the riot officer explained as he slung his rifle around his shoulder and raised his hands defensively. "I'm here to help. Believe me; I want to help whoever I can."

Jake watched the showdown between both men from the background as Donald approached him and whispered in his ear, "Those two have a history together. David busted him twice before. He's just another punk kid who has a problem with authority."

"Yeah, you're not the first to say that either, pig!" Jason shouted back giving the finger.

"Now that's enough," Donald growled, walking over and getting in the adolescent's face. "You can either cooperate with us or believe me, I don't give a rat's ass if this city is crawling with zombies or not, I'll still bust your sorry ass!"

"Donald don't," David said placing his hand over the older man's chest and gently pushing him back, "Leave him be. I'm sure he's already seen enough."

"Jason, what's going on back there?" a feminine voice called out. A young woman in her early twenties emerged, her long curly dark brown hair falling freely in front of her, wearing a lavender sweater and black jeans. A heavy backpack hung upon her, causing her visible stress as she winced beneath its weight. "Is everything alright?" she asked, looking warily towards the armed men.

"It's alright ma'am, we're here to help. We're from the R.P.D.," David spoke and carefully walked over to the woman.

"Thank goodness," she replied and then looked over her shoulder, "Hey, over here! We've found some cops who can help!"

Three more individuals appeared another of whom Jake recognized right away.

"Shane!" the hired gun called out to the U.B.C.S. marksman.

"Jake Smith…holy shit man you're still alive!" the Irishman gleefully exclaimed as he ran over and gave the hitman a hearty handshake. "Glad to see you're still alive, ol' pal. When that bazooka carrying freak chased after you and that other sap I thought you'd be a goner."

"Barely," Jake replied, "I had to bring an entire building down on that fucker. That other guy Brad, he left me saying he had to find some teammate of his who was running around here somewhere. Don't know if he's still alive or not to tell you the truth."

The two other survivors were individuals whom both David and Donald recognized right away.

A young man with short reddish-brown hair, who looked like he was barely out of high school and clad in a bloodied police uniform, held an H&K VP-70 handgun in one hand and in his other, clutched a redheaded woman in a dark blue t-shirt and matching shorts with a nasty scrape on her knee.

Jake eyed the woman curiously as she looked to be an ordinary civilian, yet carried a Benelli M4 Super 90 assault shotgun, the kind he would have expected either a soldier or police officer to carry.

"Rawlings, what the hell happened?" Donald asked the younger cop as he went over to help him with the woman.

"Those things attacked an apartment complex where we had holed up…they got Falco and a whole bunch of others," the young man glumly replied as he kicked an empty soda can to the side.

Donald cursed bitterly under his breath and recognized the woman the rookie officer had brought with him immediately. She was Bridgette Aiken, the widow of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team's communications specialist, Richard Aiken.

_"And too damned young to be a widow at that," _he thought to himself as he helped her with her shotgun, which he assumed was probably one Richard had left behind as he was an aficionado of that particular brand.

"Sgt. Byrd…" she trailed with tears in her hazel eyes, "…I tried to escape the city, but the soldiers at the barricades…they started shooting when one of the people in my group started going crazy…"

Again Donald swore bitterly and pulled the woman tight in an embrace, "It's alright Mrs. Aiken, we're doing everything we can to help," he said as he looked to the others standing around. Within the short span of time, everybody had begun to look towards him like they were expecting their marching orders.

It was a difficult position for him to be in, but then he remembered the mantra of all law enforcement officers, to serve and protect.

"Alright, for now we find another place to shack up for a few hours, if permitted," and then turned his attention to both David and the sniper, "McGraw, I want you and…" he pointed at the other man, wanting his name.

"Shane Collins, sir," the man saluted.

"McGraw and Collins, I want both of you on point," he ordered and the two men nodded in unison, "Jake, I want you to cover the rear flank."

"Sure thing," the hitman nodded and readied the MP5 for battle.

Donald then turned his attention to Officer Rawlings, "How are you holding up on ammo Kyle?"

"Only got a spare clip, Sarge," the rookie replied, almost seemingly embarrassed by his inability to provide more.

"Fine, I'll cover the rear along with Jake. Now let's get moving."

Author's Note: Okay this is the beginning of my original Ch. 16 rewrite. It was my idea to rewrite this chapter from scratch by splitting it into two pieces, hoping it will make it easier for some readers to follow it. Yes it was my idea, so please don't go sending hate mail to Crow's inbox!

Again to rephrase another note in the original chapter, the character Bridgette is not entirely an original creation on my part. For anybody who has played "The Umbrella Chronicles" (which I haven't, but know about thanks to the Resident Evil Wikia site) you will notice that Bridgette is a love interest of Richard Aiken who is mentioned in an actual file titled "Richard's Letter," where it was addressed to her explaining why he joined S.T.A.R.S. in the first place. It is never made clear whether or not she was his wife or girlfriend, but I've made her his wife in this installment and her physical appearance was also my idea in this case too, barring she actually appears in a future game and proves me wrong.

For anybody who has read the original DA, this chapter also reacquaints you with some familiar faces as well.

Well until then read and review! (AGAIN!!!)

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	18. Ch 17: Among the Hunted

Darkness Arises

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: This is the "second part" of the original Ch. 16 that I've rewritten, so now it's time to get on with the story! Not much of an author's opening note I know…

Chapter 17: Among the Hunted

It had been nearly an hour ago when the survivors finally managed to find temporary refuge within a small insurance office.

Everybody had been too jittery to attempt even a cat nap and immersed themselves in whatever activities they could to pass the time.

For the most part Jake sat around quietly and just watched everybody else, much like he had done throughout his stay when around fellow human beings. It was commonplace for him to remain in the background and observe others in their natural environment, finding that a more interesting way of getting to learn more about new people and their lives in general.

Now, he was interested in seeing what people could do to stay anchored down to the real world.

David and Shane currently stood on guard duty and chatted quietly amongst themselves when given the free time. Jake noticed how the riot officer had seemed to take a particular interest in the Irishman upon noticing the U.B.C.S. logo stitched into the back of his vest. Obviously he too must have had some suspicions of his own about Umbrella, judging by what he had told him earlier.

Whatever it was, it was to be left between the two of them.

Donald sat in a cubicle and obsessively checked over his weapons, making little time for conversation with the others. Every now and then, he would scan all the frequencies on his radio for any signs of life, mostly coming up with static as expected. On occasion, he would happen across a few deathly moans that left him switching the radio off, only to try again a short time later.

Kyle Rawlings sat on the carpeted floor near him and seemed to be the only one in the group who attempted to get any sleep, only to snap back awake after a few minutes. The rookie officer had clung obsessively to the desk sergeant's side and would pay little attention to anything else, almost as if he saw him as a living, breathing security blanket. It left the hired gun to wonder what would happen to him if something were to happen to Donald.

Jake sat in a waiting room along with Jason, Bridgette and the other woman, who revealed herself as Samantha Russell. There had been very little conversation among the four survivors as they feasted on snacks Samantha had brought along in her backpack.

Jason tried to distract himself by leafing through a car magazine, only to throw it down to the floor and grunt loudly in frustration.

Samantha and Bridgette both sat across from him, having tried to start their own little conversation. The former had proven to be an invaluable asset to the group, having smuggled all sorts of food rations, medicines and spare ammo into her backpack, as well as having treated the scrape on Bridgette's knee with some mixed herbs. When asked about it, she simply replied that her favorite uncle, a doctor over at Raccoon General, had taught her some not-so-usual tricks of the trade.

"…I guess those other S.T.A.R.S. might not have been joking around after all…with what happened to Richard and everything," Bridgette sighed in defeat.

"The S.T.A.R.S., I've heard of them," Jason spoke, now gaining some interest in the conversation, "I hear they're some pretty heavy duty dudes, like the best of the best when it comes to the R.P.D. What about them?"

Knowing the conversation would possibly lead to more mentions of the "Spencer Estate incident," Jake walked up behind the teenager and listened in.

"My husband Richard served on the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. They were the unit sent in first to investigate all those 'cannibal murders' in the Arklay Mountains," the mention of which made both Samantha and Jason shudder immediately, "Well nothing was heard from them again, so Alpha Team was sent in next. In the end, only five of them came back, Bravo's field medic among them, with all these outlandish stories as to how my husband and his colleagues died."

"What happened?" Samantha asked nervously, wondering if she really should ask, especially after receiving a halting stare from Jason.

"It's okay," Bridgette said ignoring Jason's stare, "One of his colleagues came back and said that he was eaten alive by a gigantic snake. Not only that, they made other claims such as one guy being pecked to death by crows, another being ripped apart by feral dogs…they even tried to claim Richard's commanding officer Enrico Marini was shot dead by Albert Wesker, the commander of the entire unit!"

"Wow, I would've called that messed up too up until a few days ago," Jason said to Samantha, both nodding their heads in unison while Jake remained quiet.

"Yeah I hear you," Bridgette nodded sadly. "I hated them for the longest time, believing they concocted such a story to cover up their own negligence, but I guess they were right all along. Chris, Jill, any of them, if they were around right now I'd apologize for not believing them."

Meanwhile, Donald had once again decided to scan any frequencies for signs of life, looking warily at Kyle as he prepared himself, knowing they could end up hearing something they wouldn't like.

"Please, let somebody still be alive out there," he muttered as he switched on his radio, hearing dull static and a few garbled cries that were quickly cut off. Shaking his head in defeat, he was about to switch it off again when a familiar voice cut through.

_"Hold steady men, there aren't that many in this group!" _a deep voice boomed, one that left the R.P.D. sergeant scrambling for the reply button.

"Neil!" he shouted into the receiver, his voice rousing everybody's attention, "It's Donald, where are you?"

The popping of automatic weapons drowned out much of the other sounds before a reply could be heard.

_"Byrd where the hell are you? We need all the help we can get over here at the station! Those things tracked us down and they're looking pretty hungry!"_

"Well we had to stop and regroup. McGraw and I found a couple survivors and we're going to be heading over there right now!" Donald shouted so he could be heard over the noises in the background.

_"Alright, just move your ass!" _Neil Carlsen replied before the line cut out.

"Come on people, we have to go!" Donald said quickly scooping up his weapons.

Knowing the man meant business, everybody else followed suit, scooping up whatever weapons and other supplies they needed and making their way to the front door. David and Shane both stepped out, pointing their weapons in opposite directions before giving the okay to move. Moving in formation, the two rifle-toting men took point, while the others moved towards the middle of the group and Jake and Donald would guard the rear flank.

"Take us there McGraw!" Donald spoke with a pump of his shotgun.

The S.W.A.T. officer nodded and whispered over to the U.B.C.S. sniper, "Let's go."

It was another moment that Jake wished he had eyes in the back of his head, as he constantly looked over his shoulder for any signs of danger. His neck ached from the abrupt movements and it was driving him crazy.

He felt as if he were being watched, and whatever it was, wished it would show itself so it could be over with.

_"Once again…" _the hired gun thought, _"…feels like one of those damn tongue creatures must be nearby." _He almost had to wonder if this episode was giving him a sixth sense for sensing dangers within the shadows. _"It had to be me, just like those psychics on TV…" _he mentally grumbled, noting that it was hampering the usually cool, detached mindset that helped him function so well in the heat of battle.

"Jake, how's our six look?" Shane asked from the front as he shone his light through the shattered front windows of a Scandinavian-themed store.

"Good so far…I hope," Jake replied, the last part inviting both worried and annoyed stares from the others.

"Please don't say you hope, please just say that it is," Jason groaned, wanting things to be alright.

Jake did too. He wanted things to be alright just as bad as the teen did. He wished so badly that this could have just been a simple "in and out" mission and wondered if he would have been out of the city a few nights ago had the outbreak not occurred, or even possibly have avoided it altogether had he been summoned sooner.

"Cut him some slack," David replied in a firm, yet empathetic matter towards the youth, "We all want this mess to be over with as soon as possible. Believe me, if I had my way, I'd be kicking back at home and having a beer while watching the Woodsmen clobber the Outlaws. He's doing everything he can for us, just as you are."

Jason said nothing to the comment and only stared in awe at the officer.

Jake could read the youngster's expression and easily tell that he had probably been in a lot of trouble with authority figures in general, much like he had been during his own teenage years, and probably wasn't used to receiving such compliments. It made the hitman think to himself, wondering if he could have led a different path in life had he had a more positive role model.

"I heard they were supposed to play last night," Donald said as he tried to strike up a conversation, hoping for some form of distraction from the carnage around them.

The hired gun walked quietly to the side, not interested in any conversations pertaining to sports, although he probably should have been. Maybe it would distract him from that dreadful gut feeling of being watched, the one threatening to nip away at his own sanity.

_"Where the fuck are you?" _he silently asked whatever was out there.

"Jake, are you alright?" another voice asked.

The hired gun looked down to see both Samantha and Bridgette staring worriedly at him.

"Is something wrong?" Bridgette asked as her knuckles began turning white from the iron grip on her shotgun.

"I don't know," was his only reply.

"Oh shit, possible contact," David suddenly called out and went into a combat ready stance with his rifle raised. Sensing the urgency in his tone, Shane and Donald both took positions alongside him with their own guns prepared.

A shadowy figure stumbled into view, bracing itself against the nearest wall as it moved on rubbery legs.

Neither officer bothered to shout a warning towards the approaching figure, believing it wouldn't listen to reason, and instead kept their itchy trigger fingers ready.

A man clad in a sanitation worker's uniform staggered into view, looking dead on his feet, yet his skin tone showed faint traces of life, as did his very human dark brown eyes, wide with horror as he reached helplessly toward the armed survivors with one blood-drenched hand, while the other struggled to keep his intestines from pouring out of the gash in his torso.

"My god…" Donald muttered as the man opened his mouth to say something, but could only manage a weak gurgle before collapsing to the ground.

"W-W-We've got company!!!" Kyle suddenly cried out as he gripped Jake's shoulder and frantically motioned for him and the others to look upward.

A feral, animalistic cry pierced through the air and the group directed its attention towards the rooftops.

"What the hell is that?" Jason gasped to the others.

Perched on the rooftop before them was a new creature that stood roughly five feet tall and had a muscular body that almost made it look like a gorilla, yet possessed the shimmering, almost metallic scales of a reptile. Its face resembled that of a piranha and its head and shoulders seemed to be covered by red warts. Fresh blood dripped from eight inch claws, as it did from the equally long talons on each foot.

"I have no fucking clue," was Jake's only response.

The abomination stared at the ragtag group through glowing blood red eyes before throwing back its head and unleashing a bone-jarring shriek, forcing everybody to clamp their hands over their ears.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut and clamped down with his gloved hands until he was threatening to crush his own skull. It did too little to protect him from the mind rattling sonic shockwave and he could feel his own brain spasm as if it wanted to explode.

David stood towards the front of the group in silent shock, wanting to ask aloud what the hell that thing was, but nothing came out. Beneath his balaclava, he displayed a pale mask of panic upon his youthful features as he stared intently at the ungodly nightmare creature perched above him.

Unknown to the others, Shane had encountered these kinds of mutants before and prepared to open fire, until several more hulking, muscular silhouettes flashed in the moonlight beyond.

_"Goddamn it, if those things are out already, then who knows how many people could still be left alive in this city aside from us," _he thought to himself.

Jake opened his eyes as the siren-like scream concluded, only to find another dark green reptilian creature standing on a nearby fire escape with its demonic eyes burning brightly upon him. Forming a demented grin with its stained yellow fangs, the creature leapt into the air with its claws glimmering, ready to claim a fresh kill.

KA-BOOM!!!

A salvo of buckshot smacked into the creature's side, throwing it off course and sending it tumbling to the concrete, howling in pain as several of its bones broke from the impact. Nonetheless, the creature seemed more annoyed than injured and struggled to flip back to its feet.

The hitman turned to see Donald behind him, breathing hastily as he struggled to eject his spent shell casing.

"C'mon, we've gotta get moving!" he shouted as he accidentally backed into David, snapping the riot officer out of his fear-induced trance.

Acting on pure instinct, David fired wildly upon the advancing creatures. Most of his bullets missed and sparks flew as they ricocheted from metallic surfaces, but a few caught a lighter-skinned monster in its side, one without the red warts protruding from its skin. The creature jerked wildly as it was struck by the high-velocity rounds and leapt down onto the hood of an abandoned station wagon, its sights set upon the rifle-toting officer.

Unfortunately for David, his M4A1 had clicked empty and before he could reach for his sidearm the beast was already airborne with claws extended.

Another loud explosion resounded and the attacking monstrosity was cut down in midair, buying enough time for the S.W.A.T. officer to withdraw his Beretta and finish it with a round to the face.

The others turned to find Bridgette standing with her assault shotgun smoking, panting heavily as she stared down upon the creature she had helped kill, unable to believe what she had just done.

"C'mon, c'mon let's go!" David hurriedly ordered as he slung the empty rifle over his shoulder and grabbed the woman by her arm, motioning for Jason and Samantha to follow him.

Before they could get moving, yet another beast had appeared from above and screeched menacingly as it focused on the poorly-armed Samantha.

"No!!!" Jason cried and raised his Glock-17, firing four shots that only managed to stun the beast, but not kill it. Hissing angrily, it made a charge and sent both the teen and Samantha collapsing to the ground.

Seeing their predicament, Bridgette shook herself free from David's grip and again raised her shotgun, firing a blast that obliterated the monster's face and sent bloody chunks splashing onto the younger woman.

Samantha was the most vulnerable she had ever been, both physically and mentally. She was only able to cringe in fear as hideous reptilian creatures surrounded her from all angles. All she could do was let out a pitiful whimper for every explosion or cry that took place above her.

David saw what had become of the young woman and took a position in front of her, risking his own life to shield her from all the threats surrounding them.

The thunderous repeated discharges of the firearms around him finally brought Jake back to reality after his near death experience and he willed himself to act. Raising the submachine gun and taking careful aim, he unleashed a flurry into a nearby reptile, its bullets traveling up the beast's chest before a single round finally found its intended mark right through the creature's left eye.

Another monster clung to the wall above the hired gun, but Jake was already onto him and fired a barrage into its face, not even bothering to shield himself as scales, slimy blood, fragments of bone and grey matter showered down upon him and the pavement beneath him.

Having experienced combat with these B.O.W.'s before, Shane knew he had to be quick and prevent them from going airborne. Using the practiced focus and reflexes he had come to acquire over the years, he lined up a shot aimed at one of the monster's heads and squeezed the trigger, ending its ungodly existence with a lone round to the skull.

_"How did there get to be so many of these damned things around already?" _the Irishman again thought as he looked over to David McGraw, who had now managed to pull the frightened Samantha over to a darkened corner and was attempting to reload his rifle when Shane took notice of another creature sizing them up from above.

"David, look out!" the marksman shouted as he took aim.

The S.W.A.T. officer ducked down just in time to dodge a claw swipe directed at his head, using his well-armored body to protect Samantha as well. A deafening rattle rang out and another reptilian creature fell dead next to them, two-thirds of its skull obliterated by the burst from Shane's M4A1.

"We can't stay here much longer or we'll just lead more of these freaks to us!" Shane called over to Donald and Kyle.

"Well those things will tear us apart if we stay out here in the open!" Donald shouted as Kyle fired repeatedly at a mutant that had come charging towards him. Pumping his shotgun, the sergeant finally stopped the beast with a blast to the head.

"What about the alleys?" Kyle suddenly asked.

Jake had been in the middle of killing another dark-skinned monster when he heard the rookie officer's suggestion.

"No! I don't like it!" the hitman shouted back as he fired a three shot burst into the exposed cranium of yet another mutant, "They're confined spaces, those things would have less space to clear and more access to us! We'd be sitting ducks to them!" He thought of his own experiences where the enclosed alleys had left him with little space to move around, forcing him to fight his way through the zombies, demon dogs and tongue creatures that had crossed his path.

"Well we don't have much choice," Shane replied, "Besides; the alleys will provide more cover from them being able to leap down upon us!"

"Whatever you say," Donald said to Shane as he reached into his pocket for another handful of shells, "You're the one who seems to know what you're doing against these freaks."

Jake could only grunt in defeat as more of those monsters appeared in sight, their bestial wails threatening to deafen him at any second. It was almost as if the Gates of Hell themselves had opened somewhere nearby and these creatures had come through to claim the land in the name of their dark lord.

Pulling out another hand grenade, he swiftly withdrew the pin and chucked it over to a pileup where two smoking cars had been abandoned, where some of the beasts had found some festering corpses to feast upon. Ignorant of the metallic clanking coming towards them, they continued to rip away at the charred, shot up carcasses with savage ferocity until the grenade detonated, swallowing up most of them and the cars nearby, flinging some of their flaming forms through the air and into the surrounding buildings.

"Do you know of any shortcuts back to your station?" Shane asked before firing a barrage towards an oncoming attacker.

"This way," Donald motioned with a wave of his hand and made his way for a nearby alley, stopping to grab both Kyle and Jason, who had been firing away wildly at the creatures, "Save your energy for running!" he harshly instructed.

The group made its way into a nearby alley with Donald leading the way and both Jason and Kyle were nipping away at his heels. David practically had to force Samantha and Bridgette into the alley and scream at them to make them follow after the others, while he, Shane and Jake fired away at the scaled demons stalking them.

"More of those B.O.W.'s Tyrell was talking about?" Jake asked the U.B.C.S. sniper as they backed away upon firing another collective volley towards the monsters.

"Hunters," Shane replied.

"Hunters?" Jake asked. Before any questions could be answered, he leveled the MP5 and fired a burst to obliterate another demon's head into a crimson mist.

"Me and the boys call 'em 'Hunter's because that's what these things do, they will hunt you to the ends of the earth until you blow their fucking heads off!" the Irishman shouted back, "Normally the best thing to do is to stay and stand your ground, as well as keeping them from going airborne, but right now with a couple untrained civilians on our side, running seems to be our only option."

"Well whatever the fuck they are, they're nothing but trouble and butt fucking ugly on top of it!" David replied as he heard their demonic shrieks right behind them.

The S.W.A.T. officer winced a second later as he felt blood and skull fragments spray onto his uniform, including his visor and obscuring his vision. Lifting the visor, he turned to see that Jake had unloaded into a Hunter that had almost dropped in on him.

"Damn, watch where you're spraying that shit!" David said with great annoyance.

"Watch your back then," Jake replied, but was cut off as David fired a round over his shoulder. He turned to find another creature lying dead behind him.

"You were saying?" the officer bitterly scoffed.

"Bite me pig!" Jake shot back as the trio continued running down the alley and eventually found themselves entering a narrow one-way street, where Donald had stopped long enough to greet them.

"David, bang those creatures! Jake and Shane lay down some cover fire!" the veteran officer ordered as he readied to do the same.

Knowing what the older man meant, David nodded quickly and withdrew a flashbang grenade typically used for startling bad guys into submission. He looked over to both men, "Shut your eyes and cover your ears!" he ordered before pulling the pin and tossing the grenade onto the narrow street.

The flashbang hit the concrete with a loud _THUNK _and some of the curious creatures had stopped to investigate, only to be met by a bright flash that had blinded them and prompted more bone-rattling screams.

It was a miniscule blast when compared to his own fragmentation grenade, but it had done its job.

"Now!" Donald screamed, and they wasted no time in cutting loose upon the bloodthirsty Hunters.

Jake controlled himself to the best of his abilities as he fired upon the attacking mutants, dropping one with a blast to the face and crippling another with a round to its spinal cord. The second creature wasn't dead, but would eventually die from blood loss. His MP5 had clicked dry and with no time to reload, reached into his coat to pull out the powerful .44 revolver.

David's assault rifle crackled next to the hired gun as he fired away at monstrosities flying in all directions like large mosquitoes. Jake had to tip his hat to the guy, proving himself to be an excellent shot in his own right, as he had managed to either kill or severely wound any of the threats that came flying towards them.

Shane too showed why he was appointed as his unit's marksman, cutting down everything with the amazing accuracy Jake would have expected to see in some kind of Wild Western stage show.

_"It's like he could shoot a dime out from between somebody's fingers at fifty yards," _Jake mentally remarked as he noticed that it had taken one shot for all but one of the Irishman's targets to go down.

"Alright, we've had our fun here, now let's move!" Donald called out and motioned with his shotgun for the men to follow him.

"Got it," David acknowledged and pulled out another flashbang grenade, tossing it into the mass of scaly demons to buy them some more time before retreating.

Donald led the trio through an opened door and into yet another storage room, where Jason, Kyle, Samantha and Bridgette all waited for them, out of breath and muttering worriedly amongst themselves.

Slamming the door shut behind them, Jake and the three other men moved a large shelving unit in front of the door and used several large crates and whatever else they could get their hands on to reinforce the makeshift barricade. Demonic shrieks resounded from the outside and the barricaded door shuddered underneath.

"Goddamn it, this is too fucking messed up!" Kyle bellowed over the screeches.

"Tell us something we don't know already," Jason grunted, suppressing the urge to vomit again.

"Well whatever the case is, you're right, it is fucked up!" Donald shouted and stepped to the center of the room to take charge of the situation. "We've gotta think of some way to get out of this!" he said looking over to David.

"With all due respect officer, we really don't have time to sit around and think," Shane spoke, motioning to the door, which again shuddered and knocked items from the shelf as a Hunter threw itself against its surface. "Those things are going to break in here and filet each and every single one of us alive if we sit around like this!"

"I have to agree with him Donald!" David added, much to his colleague's astonishment. "Those things mean business out there. I can tell what happens to people in situations like this when they would rather sit around than keep moving. Remember what happened at those safe houses?"

"He's got you there man," Jason said adding his two cents to the equation, "I'm with Soldier Dude and 'him' on this one!" the latter individual being his own impersonal response to David. "I was there when those fucked up sci-fi bug creatures tore the bank apart."

"I'm with Dave on this one Sarge," Kyle blurted out, freezing in place as he expected an angry backlash from the seasoned veteran. Indeed his stance had caught Sgt. Byrd by surprise, knowing how the rookie had practically clung to him since their reunion.

It was then Bridgette's turn to speak up, "I have to agree Donald. I honestly don't know this man very well, but he seems to know what he's talking about when dealing with these things."

When Samantha's turn came, she only nodded timidly in agreement. "Listen to him," she offered weakly.

Donald Byrd growled audibly and looked hurriedly around to everybody as he could feel his control on the situation slipping away at an alarming rate. Although he admired the U.B.C.S. operative's help and invaluable insight, he still felt insulted, feeling the ordinary citizens losing their faith in him as an officer of the law and his sworn duty to serve and protect when they would follow a stranger before him.

He then looked over to David and Kyle, feeling hurt and abandoned, like they had "defected" to another side. Had he really done that poorly in his job as a member of the R.P.D.?

Donald opened his mouth to protest, but only a small grunt could escape. Looking around once again, he suddenly remembered Jake's presence.

The black-clad man remained silent, using his spare time to reload both his submachine gun and revolver. Feeling the older man's eyes upon him and knowing what the subject at hand was he spoke.

"I hate to burst your bubble Sarge, but I'm with Shane on this one. Sitting around like this and try to 'plan things out?' I'm sorry pal, but you're only asking for trouble on this one if you haven't seen already what those things are capable of."

It was official; Donald Byrd had truly lost the argument and felt as if he had been marooned on a desert island with only the weapons in his hands and the clothes on his back. Having always been looked upon by his colleagues as a loyal, dependable officer and looked upon as a role model for younger officers, never once could he have envisioned a situation like this.

"Alright, so how do we get to the R.P.D. from here?" Shane asked David, permitting him to take the lead.

"We'll find out soon enough," the S.W.A.T. officer replied, knowing he would have to see the rest of the building to determine where they were and use that to determine where they would go from here.

Jake again followed from the back of the pack, looking over to Donald one last time.

"Are you coming or what?"

"Fine," Donald grudgingly spat as he started following alongside the hired gun.

"Don't be too pissed off man. That guy seems to know what he's doing. He told McGraw and I right out that he's encountered these 'Hunters' before, or whatever he called them. I don't know about you, but for one I'm willing to trust him."

Donald looked off to the side ignoring his gaze, "Well I'm still an officer of the R.P.D. and it's still my duty to serve and protect you and the others."

"Well then tell me Donny Boy, when was the last time you or any other R.P.D. officers had to fight off a mob of angry reptilian creatures that rightfully should only exist in the mind of a complete madman?" Jake sharply interjected, "Hell, when was the last time you had to arrest a zombie or some skinless creature that could ventilate you with its tongue for murder? Huh?"

Donald did not verbally reply, answering only with a frustrated scowl.

Jake didn't need the man to speak to know what his reply would be. "That's right, never! None of you have ever encountered these kinds of things before, that's why your people have been getting slaughtered left and right." His words were blunt and to the point, slicing through any doubts the veteran officer could have held. He had the man backed into a corner and was taking advantage of the power he felt.

"If I were you, I'd follow the man who actually has experience in the matter. When those scaly bastards finally disappear, then you can have control over the situation again."

Again, Donald offered no response. Deep down, he grudgingly knew the stranger was right.

David and Shane led the group into another darkened area, where several figures could be seen standing around completely still. When both men switched on their flashlight attachments, they were relieved to find themselves within the presence of inanimate mannequins. Everything started looking familiar to the riot officer once he had more time to move around.

"Alright, I know where we're at right now. We're in the Taylor Made clothing store on Ennerdale. If we get out of here fast enough, we can take a left and then be there within minutes," David whispered to the marksman.

"Lead the way then," Shane replied and then turned to the others, "Stay close."

Finding himself in near total darkness, Jake holstered his MP5 and withdrew his shotgun, switching on his flashlight attachment and maneuvering his way through the clothing store.

As the group moved further towards the front of the store, they noticed they would not be able to escape through the store's front doors. Furthermore, they noticed more signs of long ago carnage.

"Shit…" Shane muttered as his light shone upon massive bloodstains covering the floor near the checkout counters, including having splashed onto the counters themselves and nearby clothing racks, sullying what had been brand new articles of clothing.

Detached limbs and innards were scattered about the floor and not too far away, more corpses that looked like they had just been tossed through a compost grinder.

"Great," David grumbled as he looked over the corpses, privately relieved he didn't recognize any of the faces that could be made out. He then looked ahead, where an armored car belonging to the First National Bank blocked their most logical escape route through the front doors.

"What about over there?" Jason said pointing to another set of double doors along the eastern wall of the store. Faint traces of light seeped through the cracks from the adjoining business.

"Worth a try I guess," the riot officer replied as he walked over to the doors and tried to open them, but they were locked. The lock appeared flimsy enough where he could probably break through easily if he had a crowbar, fire axe, or some other large blunt object. Straining his ears for any threats, he quieted down as he heard a clicking noise that could only belong to something with talons.

"Hear something?" Shane asked as Jake took a position alongside him.

"Yeah, probably another one of our scaly friends," David replied as he checked over his rifle to make sure it was in fine working order.

"Damn it!" Shane hissed, "Whatever's out there, we won't be able to break these doors open without getting its attention."

"Well, kicking the doors open and going in guns blazing seems to be the only approach that works with these freaks," Jake spoke up, inviting worried glances from both men.

"I don't like it. We risk exposing the others to danger and we also risk setting a big fire with all the materials laying around if either one of you tries to blow them up," David explained looking to the grenades Jake and Shane had clipped to their uniforms, "and we don't have any R.F.D. around to help combat the blaze that would surely follow afterward either," he said looking over to a phone lying on the store's customer service desk.

"Well we've gotta do something and fast," Jake retorted.

"And we will," Shane said as he walked over and drove his elbow into a glass container carrying a fire axe. "Both of you, cover me," he ordered as he walked over and drew the blade backward, striking the double doors and sending them flying open with a metallic clang that echoed throughout both the clothing store and the adjoining business.

The doors flew open and the once darkened clothing store was suddenly bathed in bright light.

The Irishman's swing had been much more powerful than he anticipated and he had to catch himself right away as he almost slipped on fresh blood that had pooled beneath him.

Slumped in the corner was the likely owner of the blood, a gray-haired man whose chest had been slashed directly down the middle, his internal organs spilling out. A wooden baseball bat that had been sliced in two lay near him, an indicator he may have died trying to fight with whatever did him in.

Whatever was present had likely heard him by now and the realization had Shane pointing his rifle in every direction imaginable.

He could hear David cursing bitterly behind him as he pushed his way into the well-lit hallway, moving down and turning a corner only to find more bodies present. Splayed out in various positions, they nearly congested portions of the tiled floor, all of them missing limbs, heads or internal organs.

It was nothing new to Shane, as he had seen sights like this before on previous missions, but still managed to unnerve him with every different experience. Above worried murmurs he still heard the clicking noise that had left him on edge before, along with the cruel tearing that had him nearly squeezing the trigger once it had infiltrated his field of hearing.

"Shane!" David half-shouted from behind.

The sniper heard his name being called, but wasn't able to reply. Those tearing noises had become morbidly hypnotic to him and he moved forward as if controlled by an external power. Using his ears to guide him, he homed in on the source, wanting to find whatever it was and kill it.

"Shane, talk to me damn it!" the S.W.A.T. officer pleaded impatiently from behind.

Jake was right behind David with his shotgun raised, seeing an end to the light they moved through. They were about to enter another darkened area around the next corner and he was feeling concerned for the safety of the marksman ahead of them, who seemed to be in some sort of weird trance as he ignored the riot officer's pleas.

Having lost all patience, David switched on his flashlight attachment and quickly walked after the U.B.C.S. sniper.

_"Christ, you're both going to get yourselves killed," _the hitman thought to himself as he listened to the tearing noises that had captured Shane's attention in the first place. He again switched on his own flashlight and cautiously followed suit, only to round another corner and bump right into David's back. Shane stood ahead of them with his light fully enveloping another creature.

A new beast stood before them, one which was roughly the same size as the Hunters encountered outside and carrying the same stooped posture; it was there the similarities ended. This new creature looked more amphibian than its reptilian counterpart, with a frog-like head, beady black eyes and webbed feet ending with sharp talons. Trapped within the creature's clawed hands was a heavily mutilated corpse and what followed next made the three men nearly lose their lunch.

Throwing its head back, the creature's already spacious mouth expanded even further as it scooped the body up and swallowed it whole, its stomach pulsing as it digested its prey before shutting its mouth for good.

"Fucking disgusting," David gagged.

Out of all the gross things Jake had seen while in Raccoon, this instance had to rank a close second behind the bodies he saw pinned to the ceiling back at the library. _"These bastards get uglier and nastier," _he told himself.

The frog-like creature was none too happy about having its dinner interrupted and let out a terribly cry that could only be described as its way of croaking like a normal frog.

David and Shane wasted no time and quickly dropped the beast in a hail of gunfire.

"What the hell is that?" David asked the U.B.C.S. operative, as if he viewed him as a human encyclopedia when it concerned Umbrella's B.O.W.'s.

"I have no clue, I've never seen any Hunters like this before," Shane replied, kneeling at a safe distance as he attempted to examine the creature's shot up carcass.

The three men had reached the end of the hall where one door waited for them at the very end and another to its left. A shatter of glass made them jump, followed by the crashing of what sounded like a bookshelf toppling, followed by more clicking and tearing noises.

"It came from there," Shane said pointing to the door on the left.

"I say we just blast our way in," Jake said pumping his shotgun for emphasis, "Would be faster and if we're lucky, we might catch some of those creeps in the crossfire."

"Settle it down tough guy," David replied, not wanting him to do anything that would further frighten the others or further complicate their chances with more of those beasts.

Shane took a position hugging the wall along the left door and motioned for his two companions to be ready. Gently placing his hand on the door, he slowly nudged it open, but when he saw what lurked inside he kicked it open and began firing upon the inhabitants.

David and Jake rushed into a ransacked room that functioned as both an office and a break room, where another Hunter stood on a desk in the center of the room, having been in the middle of feasting on a woman's corpse before Shane entered. In a darkened corner was another beast that had been hacking its way through a security guard's corpse, but stopped everything it was doing to come to the defense of its "brother."

Seeing the mutant go airborne, Jake raised his shotgun and fired a blast into its midsection, knocking it to the floor and leaving it to writhe in pain before pumping another round into its face, the other Hunter falling nearby after Shane succeeded in landing a lethal shot through its eye.

"These freaks multiply like jack rabbits," David remarked as he began searching through the office.

"There must have been some transport nearby that was carrying all these units, and judging by the numbers, more than one too," Shane said as he looked worriedly towards the dead bio-weapons, again wondering how there could be so many so quickly.

"And just how many of these things get shipped out?" Jake asked raising an eyebrow to him.

"Again, I'm just a grunt; they don't tell any of us jack shit," the Irish sniper replied, "They give us our marching orders, we do our thing and pray for the best, and if we do make it back alive, we take our payment and go home to wait for the next assignment."

"You should've thought twice before joining up then," David said as he managed to find some red boxes full of pistol rounds.

"I would've, but my circumstances at the time left me with no other choice really…" Shane said looking off to the side.

"What circumstances?" the riot officer asked, staring suspiciously toward him.

"You wouldn't want to know, my friend. Just another deep, dark, depressing tale," the Irishman replied, his gaze growing impatient and indicating the officer was treading into territory he didn't wish to explore.

Another shriek sounded from the next room and the men sprung into action.

Rushing into the next room, the area was sparsely lit, yet offered enough illumination to let them know they had just wandered into a furniture store, all kinds of fixtures lined up all neat and orderly for customers that would never come again.

The shriek sounded from above, prompting Jake to shine his light upward in a room that was much larger than expected. There he found another Hunter hanging from a light fixture, ready to strike from above.

"Above us!" he shouted before pumping his shotgun and squeezing the trigger. His shot missed the creature as it leapt away at the last second, striking the fixture and sending it crashing down to the floor, dangerously close to his companions.

"What's going on out there?" Donald called out from the hall, his voice faintly wafting above the ruckus.

"Don't come out here!" David shouted back as he fired into the darkness hoping to strike the creature, his light not moving quickly enough to catch the mutant right where he needed it.

Jake frantically searched the darkened space for the lizard-like monster when his flashlight had begun to flicker.

_"Not now goddamn it!" _he mentally shouted to the inanimate object. When the light shone brightly again, he could only cry out in horror as the beast was directly in front of him, nearly knocking him out with its rancid breath.

On reflex he pulled the trigger, temporarily blinded by the bright muzzle flash and the crimson goop spraying in his face. Taking a step backward, he stepped onto an overturned swivel chair and tripped, landing hard on his hip and with it, his already injured leg.

Waves of fresh pain shot up and down the hired gun's leg, barely able to suck it up as he pushed himself along the floor. He gagged harshly as the gunpowder from above infiltrated his nostrils and opened mouth. Wiping the gooey blood from his face, he was again temporarily blinded by the repeated muzzle flashes and nearly deafened by the crackling of automatic weapons.

"Where is the son of a bitch?" David shouted as he could hear the evil shrieks all around him, but couldn't find the monster right away. He fired wildly until his rifle clicked dry.

From the flash of Shane's rifle Jake could make out the beast's scaly form, along with that of another that had managed to sneak in.

"To your left!" the hitman shouted as he ripped the dying flashlight from his shotgun and desperately tossed it in the direction he could see the beast. A loud crack, followed by an inhuman cry indicated his toss had connected. More soon followed as Shane directed his fire in an opposite direction.

"Are there more of them?" David shouted from a darkened corner.

"I don't know and I'm not sticking around to find out!" Shane called back, "We've gotta get the others outta here!"

"Jake where are you?" the riot officer then asked, moving around until his boot connected with the man's good knee.

"Right here jackass!" Jake grunted through gritted teeth and waved his hand around until he could feel it being gripped and allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet. It took a great effort for him to stand and he waved his hands around again until he felt what appeared to be a counter and braced himself against it.

"Donald, get the others. We're getting out of here now!" David called out and again waved his light around for any signs of danger until the veteran officer appeared from the well-lit hallway along with the other survivors.

Jake watched from his position as the shadowy figures darted past him and towards the nearest source of light Shane and David had both happened across, what appeared to be this store's front entrance. The darkness had left him unable to reload his shotgun, the only thing that truly made him feel safe at the moment. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, willing the others forth as he made out Donald, Kyle, Jason and finally Samantha entering the light, but still no Bridgette.

The shatter of glass sounded from above and the outline of another hunched figure came falling inside, landing with an inhuman grace. Its red eyes glowed in the darkness and seemed to zone right in on the hitman himself and no one else.

"Fuck!" Jake blurted out as he pumped the shotgun and fired a round of buckshot towards the advancing eyes, which quickly darted off to the side and leapt over him.

A wet slice followed.

Sinking to a knee, the hired gun quickly felt all over his body for any signs of damage, but felt nothing: no rips in his fabrics, no deep gashes in his skin, no blood at all.

David saw the eyes too and wanted to open fire, but held back out of concern for hitting either Jake or Bridgette. Hearing a loud grunt, he looked downward to see the black-clad man crawling on his knees after him with his submachine gun dangling around his neck and his shotgun clenched in his right hand as he moved into the light.

"Where's Bridgette?" he asked as he pointed his light into the darkened show room.

The S.W.A.T. officer got his answer as the young woman staggered into view, walking with her head lulling lazily to the side, something which greatly unnerved him.

"Bridgette!" he called out as the woman stepped into his light and right away his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

Her long red hair hanging loosely, her skin displaying an unhealthy glow and her hazel eyes devoid of life, she looked as if she would collapse within the next few steps. Blood flowed freely from the fresh gash in her midsection and the perpetrator appeared behind her, ready to finish the job.

Not if David McGraw had anything to say about it.

With an enraged cry, the riot officer squeezed the trigger and emptied what was left of his clip into the murderous Hunter, his rounds causing the creature to convulse repeatedly before finally collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

No words were spoken as the two men scooped up the woman just as she fell forward and dragged her towards the hall.

Jake knew the woman didn't stand much chance of survival, judging by the severity of the wound, and wondered if David truly felt the same way or not.

"Hey gu-Oh shit!" Kyle called out as he appeared from around a corner along with Shane and Donald and they rushed over to help with the dying woman.

"Just get her out of here!" Shane ordered as he scanned the area for any additional threats, still able to hear more feral cries coming from a distance. The marksman knew for sure the woman would die, having witnessed several of his past squadmates die under similar circumstances. He wanted her to die an at least halfway dignified death compared to the other things he had seen around.

"Just keep killing these damn things!" the U.B.C.S. soldier shouted over to Jake as the others spirited the woman away. The only thing they could really do at this point was blast as many of those Hunters back to Hell as they could while the others made their escape.

Jake blasted another approaching Hunter and then attempted to fire another round when his gun again clicked empty.

_"Not again!"_

An ear-piercing screech brought the hitman back to the present and he looked up just in time to see another one of the reptilian beasts lunging towards him with its arm drawn back and its blood-stained claws ready to claim yet another victim.

Jake muttered a profanity and spun his body to avoid the strike, only to jerk to a complete halt and nearly stumble as his trench coat became entwined around his muscular form.

A shriek from behind nearly deafened him and he looked over his shoulder to find a Hunter viciously snapping at him. It had driven its clawed hand through a wall and had caught his trench coat in the process, leaving him pinned.

It was yet another tight situation the hitman had found himself in, and only closing it as more shrieks resounded from the darkness he had fought so desperately to escape from. He watched as Shane fought for his own survival as he fired wildly at any darkened shape that seemed to move. Meanwhile, his own shotgun lay out of his reach, and he was finding himself drawn closer as the beast struggled.

As his trench coat opened, he spotted the magnum's handle sticking out from his shoulder holster and he smiled to himself.

Reaching for the powerful gun, he took aim at the Hunter's face and fired three shots in rapid succession, destroying any traces of the monster's ugly visage. Still unable to escape from its grip even after its demise, Jake took aim at its shoulder and fired what remained from his current speed loader, blowing the monster's arm away from the rest of its body and watching with morbid fascination as its carcass fell to the floor with a wet splat.

"Piece of shit…" he grumbled as he ripped his trench coat away from the severed clawed arm, most of its lower half now a tattered mess. Jake turned to address Shane when he noticed the marksman removing his entire grenade belt.

"What are you doing?" he shouted.

"Get out of here now!" the Irishman ordered. Before another word could be uttered, he had already pulled the pin on one of the grenades.

"Goddamn you," Jake muttered before whirling on his heel and spring down the building's entrance hall. He had reached his peak speed when the first explosion occurred, followed by a chain reaction that swallowed up the hall behind him with every detonation.

The final explosion propelled him into the air and sent him flying through the opened doors and into the dead streets outside. He hit the ground hard and was sent rolling until he was stopped by a parked pizza delivery car.

As Jake's eyes opened, they remained transfixed on the burning building before him and everything else was a blur around him, the roar of a fresh inferno, its burning debris falling dangerously close to his battered form, the other survivors calling out for him…everything else.

All he could think of was the U.B.C.S. soldier who had just sacrificed himself to buy the others some time. He didn't know whether he was supposed to consider Shane Collins' action brave or foolish, but did know the marksman had become just the latest name on the list of casualties in the war against the undead.

_"Shane, you didn't have to do that, but I'll see to it your loss wasn't in vain."_

Author's Note: And so ends the latest installment of "Reborn" where I reacquaint you with some old "scaly" friends of ours that probably made you piss your pants on more than one occasion when they leapt out at you from nowhere and probably had you wishing for some kind of "unlimited ammo" cheat.

But yeah, nonetheless I hope rewriting this chapter can help me overcome my recent slump on the RE front, so in addition to updating this I will be making a few tweaks to the next chapter as well.

Until then, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	19. Ch 18: Sanctuary in the Madness

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Once again the Metal Harbinger returns to the land of Resident Evil ficdom to bring you a slightly updated installment of "Darkness Arises: Reborn," where the Hunters make their not-so-triumphant foray into the very cyber pages of this fic.

Until then, read and review! Now on with the story!

Chapter 18: Sanctuary in the Madness

More running, that's all he had been doing since David and Donald came back to help him.

There was no time to mourn the loss of Shane Collins. The multiple explosions resulting from his sacrifice had done little to halt the Hunters' pursuit and absolutely nothing to deter them.

All Jake Cavanaugh and his companions could do when they were no longer able to fight for their lives was run, run when they knew the odds were stacked against them.

Despite being a man of tip-top physical conditioning, the hours of endless fighting were catching up to Jake, and once again he could feel his muscles fighting against him, stretching under every step he took, wanting him to stop and take a breather. The murderous screeches coming from behind wouldn't allow that. No matter how fast he and the others ran, those calls for blood seemed to be one step behind them wherever they went.

_"David said we weren't too far away," _he told himself as the S.W.A.T. officer ran ahead of him and the others, all of them collectively guided by the large star on the back of his flak vest, as if they were a fleet of ships guided by an ancient lighthouse.

The realization of being near his intended destination made the hitman's body work even harder against him, his audible gasps blending in with those of the others. How his legs hadn't given out from underneath mystified him greatly.

A police station was typically the absolute last place Jake would ever want to visit, especially after what he had done in the past.

During his last visit, he was badly injured and unable to threaten anybody, ensuring he would make his way to prison without incident. How he would have loved to gone at it with every officer in the station who wanted a piece of him after what they believed he had done.

This time would be different; this time he was entering a police station under his own free will instead of having to be hauled in the back of a squad car in full restraints. He didn't want to go, but at the same time he had to, as he realized it could be the only place he might be able to find food, ammo and rest.

Besides, the pigs here would be more occupied with fighting the undead than chasing around a wanted criminal who was doing nothing more than defending himself in this scenario.

"Okay, I see it dead ahead!" David called back to the others.

A large two story gray building awaited the survivors further down the street, surrounded by ten foot high concrete walls and iron gates with a clock tower visible in the center of its frontal exterior. It could have easily passed for a medieval fortress, but the large white letters posted above the front gate immediately gave away the building's true identity.

The R.P.D.!

Several barricades had been constructed in front of the large structure, consisting of the department's own black and white squad cars, S.W.A.T. vans, pylons, sandbags, wooden barriers, razor wire, steel security railing, small concrete walls, and everything else that could be used to help keep the monsters at bay.

_"Everything except the kitchen sink," _Jake told himself as they got closer and closer to the waiting blockade.

Behind the barricades, he spotted several very much alive uniformed officers and S.W.A.T. members, even a few armed civilians standing tall amongst them, all carrying several different types of small arms and heavy artillery, ready for anything that could come their way.

The officers present perked up at the sight of three of their own approaching them, along with three civilians fortunate enough to have survived this long.

"Come on!" an officer near the front of the barricade called out, his voice slightly muffled by his helmet. He was about to shout something else until he was stopped by the sight of the reptilian Hunters that seemingly flew through the air behind their human prey.

"All of you get down now!" the officer shouted raising his H&K MP5 submachine gun and looking over to address the others, "Hold your fire! Nobody shoot until I give the order!"

Without being told twice, Jake and the others hit the deck, lying facedown on the ground with their hands over their heads.

In another thunderous explosion, numerous firearms discharged simultaneously, much like they had back at the barricade on Ema Street. Thinking of the massacre that followed made the hitman roll over onto his side and watch as a dark green Hunter was caught in midair and sent crashing downward, bouncing off of a nearby car before hitting the pavement.

Jake scrambled for any gun he could find as the creature's eyes locked on his, but relaxed when its chest didn't rise again, assuring him of its death.

The hitman was about to turn and face the other prone survivors when his gaze was halted by the sight of another riot officer lying dead before him, blood having seeped through the cracks in its visor and long since dried, sparing him from another torturous gaze that would surely haunt him in his forthcoming dreams.

He kept his head low and looked towards the barricades. Only now did he take notice of the other bodies littering the pavement and the multitude of spent ammo casings that must have numbered in the thousands by his own estimate.

Most of the bodies consisted of men and women dressed in civilian attire, their peeling, ashen skin revealing they had been zombified before there were all shot to death. The rest of the bodies were those of police officers decked out in either S.W.A.T. body armor or regular blue uniforms covered in blood which had poured from gashes in their necks, stomachs, chests and elsewhere. Many still clutched their weapons as they were left to forever stare blindly into the starless night sky above.

There must not have been as many Hunters following the group as Jake thought when the hail of gunfire died down after what he believed to be ten to thirty seconds.

"Is that the last of those things?" the lead officer asked over the worried chatter of his subordinates. "Give me those," he ordered another S.W.A.T. officer next to him who held a pair of binoculars.

He scanned he area for any visible threats and then reached for his radio, "Everybody remain on heightened alert. Just because we took out one wave doesn't mean there won't be another."

"Okay," David said pushing himself back to his knees, "everything must be clear for now. Let's get inside," he said leading the others over to a hastily erected fence that was reinforced by sandbags and razor wire, where officers clambered to help each of them over one at a time.

"McGraw, Byrd, you made it!" the lead officer spoke as some of his subordinates yanked the two survivors over the barrier. Kyle cleared his throat behind them, letting it be known he too had survived.

"Took us a while and there were a whole hell of a lot of those freaks Sarge, but we made it," David said dusting a few loose chunks away from his gore-streaked uniform.

The sergeant, whose nametag read "Foreman," nodded in reply. "You two look like Hell warmed over. You'd better get in there and get some rest," he said before turning to the other officers, "The rest of you, remain on heightened alert for any additional threats." He then turned to address another officer who kept an M-79 grenade launcher at his feet, "Cutsforth, be ready to burn those bastards if any of them try getting up again."

A "Yes sir!" followed by a salute came from the officer and then Sgt. Foreman raised his radio to speak some commands directed at the snipers positioned on the station's roof, leaving David, Donald and Kyle to converse with colleagues grateful to see them alive and kicking and the others to stand about catching their breath.

Jake stood around quietly, closely observing the officers in tense silence, wondering whether or not any of them would recognize him.

Even he had limits and came to realize them as he watched a multitude of surviving S.W.A.T. officers milling about with their submachine guns and assault rifles, even that Cutsforth fellow who carried the grenade launcher. Looking up to the station's rooftop, he was able to make out the silhouettes of the aforementioned snipers, the long necks of their rifles jutting outward enough to discern them from the regular rifles.

Numerous uniformed officers stood about as well, many of them already tense from the physical exertion and lack of rest they had been forced to endure. Normally, he could have easily disarmed a regular beat cop and used the man as a human shield while attempting to make his escape, but this was an entire army he was dealing with. They would kill him within seconds in a heavily-fortified environment like this.

A few civilians stood out amongst the black and blue like sore thumbs, all deputized and ready for combat.

Standing near the cruiser closest to him were two individuals, a man and a woman, each chatting quietly among themselves.

The woman looked to be no older than twenty. She had straight blonde hair that looked as if it would fall only a few inches past her shoulders, but at the moment was kept back by a ponytail. She had an athletic figure covered by a skin-tight red and white motorcycle outfit, black biker boots and wore red and black biker gloves. Strangely enough, she also wore a police-issued bulletproof vest with "R.P.D." stitched across the chest. In her left hand she held a Browning HP handgun, looking comfortable as if she were an experienced shooter.

The man sat on the cruiser's trunk and looked to be only a few years older. He looked almost like a punk rocker with dirty blond hair that fell to the bottom of his neck and a several days old stubble. He wore a torn denim vest covered in numerous decals advertising bands and brands of musical gear, along with a black sweatshirt underneath, black fingerless gloves, a pair of ripped blue jeans and a pair of steel-toed boots. A Glock-17 similar to Jason's rested on the steel surface next to him and what looked to be a Bowie knife had rested in a poorly-concealed shin holster.

"Excuse me sir!" a voice suddenly called out from behind, catching him completely off guard and snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Shit!" Jake muttered to himself, thinking perhaps somebody had recognized him from a wanted poster.

Whirling around with his hand on his holster, he stared directly at three officers, all of whom jumped at his hasty response. So tense he was, the hitman completely forgot about his hand's position and stared back awkwardly at their following glances.

_"Great, I've made it this far and now I'm probably going to have my ass arrested," _he mentally scolded himself as more officers began looking towards him uneasily, _"I've gotta be fucking lucky they don't just pull out their guns and start shooting me right on the spot."_

"Sir, it's okay. We mean you no harm," the same officer spoke, raising his hands to show he wasn't armed.

He noticed that none of them were looking directly at his face, but down towards his leg.

"You appear to be injured, is everything alright?" the officer asked, cautiously keeping his distance, as did the others.

_"False alarm," _he sighed in relief before speaking, "Sorry about that, I-I had an accident…on the way over here," Jake spoke while trying to compose himself.

"Well you should have it checked out immediately," Sergeant Foreman spoke as he stepped up from behind and carefully examined the bloodied bandages. "We have some staff from Raccoon General on hand who can help you out."

"Excuse me sir," Samantha suddenly appeared behind the S.W.A.T. sergeant, "is one of those staff members by any chance a Dr. George Hamilton? He's my uncle and I want to know if he's alright."

Sgt. Foreman looked back and forth between the woman and the building before replying, "I'm sorry ma'am, we only have Drs. Peltz and Radant on the scene and a few nurses, that's all I know of. Maybe one of them may have seen him around elsewhere."

"Okay," the young woman dejectedly replied before offering a weak, "Thank you."

The sergeant then turned his attention towards the officer who had taken notice of Jake's injury, "Get him inside. Tell Wilcox to get whoever is available on the case immediately."

"Yes sir," the officer replied, identified as "Dieter" by his nametag, before turning to Jake, "Come with me please."

Alongside the hitman, Donald was called out by another familiar face.

"Donald!"

The veteran sergeant turned to see a dark-haired man in his early forties come running towards him.

"Neil!" he shouted back and quickly ran over to receive fellow sergeant Neil Carlsen.

"Donald, you need to get inside quick," Neil said motioning towards the building.

"What's wrong?" he asked, staring worriedly at his colleague.

"It's Elijah, he's been hurt. Sheila's with him right now over in the east office," Neil reported.

"What about the others? What about Kenny, George and Katelyn?" he frantically asked.

Neil only looked at him nervously, knowing he didn't have any good news to offer. His gaze faltered further as he watched the anguish cross his friend's features, telling the man wanted to cry, yet nothing came out.

"Please, just get inside. They need you," was all he said.

"Okay, I'm there," Byrd replied with a brief nod before bolting inside.

David stepped up alongside Sgt. Carlsen, "I'd better go with him," he said before turning to Jake and Officer Dieter, "Looks like I'll be tagging along with you guys." Samantha and Jason also appeared behind the S.W.A.T. officer, wanting to be led out of the dangerous outdoors.

Jake remained silent as he was ushered through the front gates and into the courtyard, where a small group of S.W.A.T. officers guarded the station's front entrance. To his left was a small rest area, where several more officers congregated, carefully resuming their cigarette and meal breaks after the recent scare.

The imposing station again regained his full attention just as he was about to approach the massive blue steel doors.

Once again, he was reminded of how the building looked almost nothing like a modernized police station from the outside, wondering why the R.P.D. would base itself here of all places.

_"This place looks more like a museum or a cathedral almost," _he thought as Officer Dieter opened the front door and led them inside.

Right away, the young assassin found himself at a loss for words upon setting foot in the grand foyer.

Eloquent marble tiles made up the floor beneath him and Roman-style pillars at the sides, holding up balconies which extended three stories high, and several ornate carvings on the walls. Three steps led to a lower level, where in the center lay a painting of the R.P.D. insignia all officers proudly displayed on their uniforms. Standing above the painting was a fountain, which had the statue of a young maiden holding a water jug as its centerpiece, something that shouldn't have belonged in a place like this.

_"Not unless the person in charge lives in a fantasy world," _Jake told himself as he stared at the semi-circular shaped oak reception desk beyond the statue, on which rested an old-fashioned typewriter next to its modern electronic counterpart, along with several telephones, fax machines and filing cabinets.

Then again, he had been told this "Chief Irons" individual didn't play with a full deck anyway.

At the center of the north wall stood a beautiful stained glass window, which made the place almost look like the cathedral Jake had imagined. A couple candles, a few pews and an altar, along with a statue of Christ and the place would have been complete.

Although out of place in a municipal building, the setup also emitted a haunting elegance that probably disguised much of the regular happenings within the walls of such a structure when it pertained to dangerous criminals and what not.

A number of officers were present, mostly patrolling the second floor balcony, guarding strategic locations and trying to keep anxious civilians within the safety of the station's library. A few more stood about on the lower level and were posted near all the visible doors, trying to calm recently arrived citizens and informing them they needed to get to the library as soon as possible. Much like outside, there were a few armed civilians standing amongst the officers.

"Welcome to the R.P.D., creepy eh?" David whispered to Jake, nudging him with his elbow as he witnessed the hitman's awestruck response to the main hall's grandeur.

Jake didn't respond as he looked around at the other survivors, seeing if he could pick out any of those he had escaped from J's Bar with. So far, nobody looked familiar.

David was suddenly distracted as the door closest to the reception desk came open and two officers whom he instantly recognized appeared, one a tall African-American and the other a shorter Caucasian man with auburn-colored hair.

"Marvin! Elliott!" he called out, quickly removing his helmet so they could see his face.

"McGraw!" the both shouted in unison and ran over to greet their surviving colleague.

Jake stood in the background and watched as the three officers all stood about conversing amongst themselves, all genuinely happy to see one another. He didn't want to spoil their reunion, so he remained on the upper level and watched as they were approached by a red-haired man who was covered from head to toe in filth and holding Mossburg in his right hand.

"Alright, well I think it's time for you to get over to the cafeteria," Officer Dieter spoke, motioning towards the lone door to their right when another opened from upstairs, one that seemingly caught everybody else's attention and made them stop everything they were doing.

An important looking man made his way over to the railing, prompting many to move out of his way so he could make his statement. He was a rotund man of medium height who appeared to be in his early fifties with short, slicked back brown hair and a matching mustache. His clothing consisted of dark navy dress slacks, a black vest, a white dress shirt and a red tie underneath. A nametag was also pinned to his vest, its information illegible from the hitman's position.

"Lt. Branagh, what was the meaning of all that infernal racket outside and why are there still citizens running around in this hallway? Were you not informed that they were to be moved to the library immediately? I am trying my best to keep order around here and I can't have that if you are going to ignore my orders," the man's high-pitched voice boomed throughout the grand hall, frightening several of the civilians, but only inviting looks of disgust from the officers who had been forced to put up with his ranting on a daily basis.

"I'm sorry Chief, but we've just received some new refugees who were attacked by some freaks outside and we had to fight them off to keep this place safe," Marvin explained, gesturing towards Jake, Samantha and Jason.

The chief crossed his arms over his stocky chest and glared down upon the battered new arrivals as if he were a hawk perched high above looking to make his next catch. One of them was a dark-clad man on the platform beneath him, next to Officer Ian Dieter. He placed a hand to his chin and closely studied the man and his fellow arrivals.

"Hmmm, well I see you were able to make it this far. I will see to it that my officers accommodate your needs to the best of their abilities until this incident can be resolved," the chief spoke in a boastful, almost sardonic tone and quickly disappeared from sight.

Jake narrowed his eyes at the plump man and immediately wanted to bash his skull in. Looking around, the officers stared silently at the exiting chief and shared the hitman's look of annoyance. He could tell right away that this "Chief" got no love from his subordinates.

"Who the hell does that fat prick think he is?" Jake hissed towards Officer Dieter.

"Brian Irons," the man replied, "Chief of the Raccoon Police Department and the biggest asshole known to man," he added in a tone dripping acidic venom.

Hearing that was almost humorous to the hired gun.

In his shady line of work, he found himself surrounded by all sorts of strange and unusual characters who were supposed to be on the right side of the law, but this man took the cake. Just witnessing the way the man carried himself automatically gave off an impression that he was up to no good and had a lot of secrets to hide, explaining the uneasiness permeating from everyone else around him.

"Heh, to think the local government would actually let some unstable yahoo like that run the police department of all things? Just too hard to believe, I can smell the corruption on that fat pig from a mile away," Jake said to the officer.

"Well believe it my good man. With his usual 'cheery' demeanor and his taste in artwork, let alone him being able to even afford stuff like that, I'd say he's got more than one screw loose and more than one skeleton in the closet," Dieter sighed in disgust of having to explain something as sinister as that to an outsider. "Too bad we have to go through shitloads upon shitloads of red tape to be able to pin anything on the fat bastard."

A booming laughter came from near the fountain and both men looked over to see David laughing along with his colleagues as he performed an impersonation that left them nearly holding their sides.

Ian then returned his attention to Jake, "That asshole's practically abandoned us when we needed him the most, leaving us to fend for ourselves, while he spends most of his time locked away in that cozy little office of his doing God knows what, while we're out here getting slaughtered left and right."

"Man, now I understand why everybody hates him so much," Jake replied as Dieter walked over and opened the door for him that led into the station's east wing, only to nearly bump into a short, blonde-haired woman that had been heading towards the main hall.

"Dieter, there you are!" she spoke in a Southern-accented voice.

"What is it Wilcox?" Dieter asked, looking down to the smaller woman.

"I just talked to Dr. Peltz, you'd better get anybody who needs help over here as soon as you can. He's getting low on supplies and other patients have started to take turns for the worse. We'll need more available guys around to help stand guard," the woman explained, looking down the hallway towards unseen doors.

"Crap!" Ian muttered and then turned to Jake, "Well this gentleman here needs medical attention A.S.A.P. You'd better get him over there while there's any open space left."

"Alright," Officer Wilcox replied, "I'll take him there. Just get whomever you can to help."

Officer Dieter nodded and disappeared back into the main hall, leaving Jake and the female officer alone.

"Alright sir, our 'infirmary' is this way."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake tried to relax the best he could as he reclined backwards on the small bench that barely fit his six foot three inch length.

Dr. Ethan Peltz stood over the tall man, applying antiseptics to his elevated leg, while Officer Ellen Sears had been on hand to gently dab any other wounds he had received with a warm rag.

The young woman had been overjoyed to see he had made it this far, but her joy quickly turned to sadness when the hitman inquired about what had become of the group she had traveled with.

Upon touching down, Officer Jeff O'Doyle, along with Marlowe Keane and Wayne Compton, had been sent out to reinforce the outside barricades, where another wave of zombies had shown up.

Unfortunately for the three men, they were towards the front of the barricades and were quickly overcome while trying to retreat. Because of the volume of zombies at the time, there was no way their bodies could be recovered.

The revelation made Jake stop and study his new surroundings, and the present goings on.

He was presently in the station's cafeteria, but with all the injured civilians and officers piling up, the room had been converted into a makeshift infirmary for its availability of open space. Both Drs. Ethan Peltz and Gordon Radant, along with several paramedics and nurses from Raccoon General, worked side by side with a few police officers, tending to the wounded and dying.

Tables around the room were used as crude hospital beds, where several injured officers were sprawled across their hard wooden surfaces crying out in pain from zombie bites they had received, or from friendly fire wounds they had sustained in the firefights outside while trying to defend their city from the ravenous cannibals that had methodically overtaken it.

In another darkened corner of the room laid several bodies, all covered with bloody white sheets that had been carefully arranged so no limbs were sticking out from underneath. Jake watched as two S.W.A.T. officers carried another dead officer's body over to the pile and gently laid the man's remains onto a clean patch of tile, while another quickly appeared with a fresh sheet and carefully laid it over the dead body. The three officers then stood up and bowed their heads in homage to their fallen comrade.

They must have known the man would likely never receive a proper burial, but they would do what they could to honor his memory.

Everything looked like it was straight out of a scene from an old war movie, the hired gun thought to himself. He listened to the frightened cries of the wounded around him and the panicked commands being shouted left and right amongst the officers and paramedics as they rushed back and forth across the spacious room, doing whatever they could to save the dying people entrusted to them.

Deep down, Jake wanted to wish the best for these people, but he knew they were fighting an uphill battle unless one of those doctors could whip up a miracle cure right on the spot.

The bitten patients were of the most concern, and the hired gun watched as an unresponsive man was dragged away through a back door by three officers. He suspected they must have known what was to follow and wanted to deal with him before he could become a threat. If something wasn't done about the rest of them quickly, then the station would be torn apart from the inside out.

There was nothing Jake could do, as he knew he would risk causing more mayhem amongst the already frightened civilians and draw a possible confrontation with the officers.

"Alright," Dr. Peltz spoke as he had just finished fastening the last bandage around Jake's leg. "You sustained some pretty serious cuts from that fall Mr. Smith, some that could have been fatal. It's a good thing you had that first-aid spray and those hemostat pills with you, or else you could've very well bled to death.

"At this point, your wounds appear to have been sealing up for the most part. I've cleaned your wounds, applied some fresh antiseptics and changed your bandages. Take it easy for a few hours and let the medicine run its course. They've set up a rest area in the station library. I'm sure you might be able to get some shut eye up there, maybe even find somebody you know," the good doctor explained as he and Officer Sears both helped Jake sit upright.

"Thanks Doc, you helped a lot," Jake replied as he carefully rose to his feet and shook the man's hand. "You'd better focus on helping whoever else you can right now."

Before the doctor and his assistant could protest him putting pressure on his injured leg, they were distracted by a frantic call from not too far away.

"Doc, get your ass over here quick! My buddy's bleeding pretty bad!" called out a big man around Jake's size, who came in lugging a tall, pot-bellied man with long, greasy, curly dark brown hair and a braided beard who was clad in biker's apparel.

The wounded man was quickly led over to a table near a set of vending machines, where he quickly had to be restrained by both a nurse and paramedic. Ethan Peltz and Ellen Sears both said nothing and rushed over to the table to see what could be done for the biker.

The doctor's bald head was covered by a sheen of sweat, and the white labcoat he wore showed dark sweat stains underneath his arms, suggesting he had been moving around frantically within the last few hours, and the physical wear and tear showed on his face. He looked like he was about to collapse, but Dr. Peltz was driven by a desire to do whatever he could for his patients, the only thing keeping him awake and moving.

"Alright, let's see what we've got here," the doctor said aloud as he quickly slipped on a pair of latex gloves and the three other people made room for him.

Jake had taken a position next to the other biker and watched closely as the doctor began sifting through the man's torn, bloodied flesh, carefully picking out tiny pieces of jagged metal and dropping them into a nearby metal plate that had been left out. Fortunately, the man's wounds appeared to be inflicted only by shrapnel, not a bite from one of the zombies outside.

"C'mon Rock ol' buddy, you're not leaving my ass behind unless I say you can!" the biker next to Jake called out to his bleeding friend.

The other biker was built like a tank compared to his corpulent friend, with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, a thin mustache and the rest of his face covered by a several days old stubble. Numerous tattoos, scars and calluses covered the man's arms, some looking like bullet and knife wounds that may have been crudely treated by whatever kind of medical treatment a drifting biker would be able to produce.

Much like his friend, the man wore gritty clothing that reflected the rough and tumble lifestyle of an outlaw biker, consisting of camouflage pants, black biker boots with clanking chains, fingerless leather gloves, a black t-shirt with a set of shades clipped to them, and lastly a blue denim vest that was almost identical to his buddy's.

Imprinted on the back of his vest was the design of a skull with horns and fangs. Its eyes were blood red with no pupils and the entire design itself was outlined by bright orange, reddish-orange and yellow flames. Stitched above the garish design in dark red bold, choppy letter was the word "ROAD" with "DEMONS" at the bottom of the patch. Over the man's left breast, the name "Ace" had been stitched in red cursive lettering.

The biker called Ace noticed Jake staring at him and turned to face him, "Some of those nut slapping crazies tried to take a bite out of my buddy. Poor bastard isn't that good with guns. He accidentally shot an oil drum and then 'KA-BOOM!' Killed most of those freaks, but took our bikes down with 'em."

"Damn," was all the hitman said, looking down and noticing the holsters at the biker's sides, which held matching Berettas similar to his.

"You said it," Ace replied, jerking his head back towards the scene of his fallen buddy when the man suddenly screamed in pain.

Jake looked around at the other wounded occupants and felt his sense of unease becoming too powerful by this point. He had to get out of there, weaving past another pair of paramedics rushing towards the scene of another death, where an officer tried in vain to resuscitate his bitten comrade.

He pushed through the wooden double doors and into a crowded hallway, where officers hastily maneuvered through the cramped confines with weapons ready in case of another attack. Civilians were huddled everywhere in small groups, either bawling their eyes out in despair or speaking to each other in hushed tones as their fragile minds struggled to process the madness occurring around them.

The officers themselves were no better off as they stood at their assigned posts, looking grimly to one another as they clutched their weapons in shaking, clammy hands. All of them looked dead on their feet and looked as if they were about to fall asleep at their posts, kept awake only by the worried voices around them.

A mother sobbed hysterically as she held her two small children close to her, both of whom were too young and innocent to comprehend the violence that had overtaken the city.

Not too far away was a lone young man, probably a few years older than him, who held a picture of a young woman in his hand and muttered unintelligible phrases to himself, probably a wife or girlfriend he had lost in the massacre.

An older couple sat near the out of service payphones, holding each other closely and telling each other how much they loved one another. Sitting across from them was a younger couple that could have been a shadow of the senior citizens in their former years, who would never live to reach the old age of those before them.

They were all heartbreaking sights for anybody to watch, but Jake had to remind himself that nothing could be done for them.

"_Isn't my job to protect them," _he thought.

"You!" a voice called out from behind.

Jake whirled around to see Lt. Henry Monroe marching towards him, an angry scowl etched into the man's aged features.

"You had better have a damned good explanation for running off like the way you did back there, kid!" the lieutenant shouted, his vitriolic demand distracting most of the other occupants from their previous thoughts. "That was reckless and stupid!"

"You needed to get those people out of there as fast as you could. Waiting around for me to get my ass in that already cramped chopper would've only slowed you down," Jake shot back, unable to hide the irritation he felt towards the grizzled veteran.

"Well it's still no valid excuse in my book. You'd better feel damned lucky whatever it was out there was on your side for you to have made it here after the stunt you pulled," Lt. Monroe grumbled as he turned away, only to stop and look over his shoulder, "But nevertheless, I'm glad to see you made it here alive," he grudgingly added, his tone softening a little with the realization.

A gunshot suddenly rang out from behind the set of double doors in front of the two men, forcing Lt. Monroe to drop everything he had been doing and throw the doors open, just in time to see David McGraw go running out the back hallway, followed closely by Samantha and two officers, one a tall, dark-haired male and the other a Hispanic female.

"No! David wait!" the three pursuers could be heard shouting in unison.

"What's going on?" he shouted to the other uniformed officers present, most of who stood around the darkened office in shock.

A woman's tortured wails escaped from his personal office and the lieutenant ran over to find a sobbing Donald Byrd clutching his beloved wife Sheila. Before he could ask any further questions, he found a teenaged African-American boy lying slumped in the corner with a high-powered round having been fired between his eyes. It was their oldest son Elijah.

The teen's skin had an unhealthy, leathery-looking tinge to it and lying at his feet was a Colt M4A1 assault rifle, David McGraw's gun.

"Donald…" Monroe muttered, unable to say anything else as he stared at the grieving couple. Stepping back into the main office area he quickly composed himself and turned to address a young, lanky rookie with neatly combed brown hair and large, wire-rimmed glasses.

"What just happened here?" he asked, knowing the answer probably already laid right in front of him, but still feeling like he needed to have it verbally explained to him.

"That kid, he went nuts and tried to kill his mother. McGraw had to put him down," the rookie hurriedly whispered, doing what he could to make sure neither Donald nor Sheila could hear him.

"Shit," Monroe hissed rubbing his throbbing temples, "Alright, just keep everybody else back. I'm going to have a talk with them and then afterwards, I'm going to have to talk to McGraw too. Make sure he stays close by too if he comes down again anytime soon."

"Yes sir," the rookie replied and went to address the other officers present.

Lt. Monroe turned around and nearly jumped as he was surprised to see Jake had followed him in. "Son, you'd better get out of here. I don't think this is something you'll want to be around. We've got the rest area set up in the library; you might wanna get some rest right about now."

"Fine," Jake said as he turned around and made his way out of the office, ignoring the stares of those present.

Whatever was happening back there was none of his business and he didn't wish to be caught in the middle of it.

The hike towards the station's library was a fairly long one, given his injury and fatigue. It took him through several rooms and halls, most of which were filled with officers and civilians boarding up smashed windows and erecting small barricades at other random intervals, using anything ranging from ordinary wooden boards to discarded doors to dismantled tables and chairs.

All the while he was met by wary gazes from those present. Only when he had done nothing for several minutes did they finally dare to back down and let him pass and return to their previous duties. The hitman could understand their tension and probably would have done the same thing if he were in their shoes, he thought to himself as he finally reached the stairs that would take him to the second floor.

"_I've gotta wonder though if them trying to fortify this place will only cause more problems for us," _Jake thought to himself, remembering from horror movies how zombies would never tire nor lose interest in their hunt for fresh meat. The more they hung around in one place, the more zombies would probably be attracted, if they could sense fresh humans from a mile away that is.

Jake made his way through a few more halls, including one that contained the office of the very S.T.A.R.S. unit he had heard so much about, until he finally reached a crowded lounge area with a door that led to the library. After submitting to a full body search and doing what he could to convince the officers he could possibly help with all his guns, he was permitted entry into the library.

The station's library was by far the second largest room he had seen in the R.P.D., looking more like it belonged in a Victorian mansion than a modernized police station.

Several S.W.A.T. officers stood along the upper walkway armed with their submachine guns, assault rifles and shotguns, ready to strike down from above in the event of another attack. A few uniformed officers milled about on the lower level, armed with similar weapons, including a few who stood guard around a balding older man in a stained business suit, seated at the base of the stairs with an attractive young blonde-haired woman in a white party dress clutching onto his arm.

An indeterminate amount of refugees crowded the lower level, many of whom were already sitting on cots or trying to fall asleep on the numerous blankets that had been spread out on the uncomfortable-looking hardwood floor. He estimated there were probably anywhere between seventy to a hundred survivors gathered within the cramped quarters, not counting those who were scattered throughout the station, all the supplies that had been set aside for them further congesting the area.

Something brushed against his coat and the hired gun looked down to find a short blonde, pre-teen girl dressed in a sailor outfit standing beneath him. Horror filled her cerulean orbs as she realized that she had bumped the gruff, filthy man a little too hard and took in how much he towered over her. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only squeak out a quick "Sorry mister!"

Jake grunted and gave a quick nod to the little girl, his own way of telling her everything was alright. He watched her retreat to a darkened corner where a few more youngsters conversed amongst themselves, trying to aid each other through their distress.

Strangely enough, as the girl went on her way, the hitman noticed an Asian-American woman with short, stylishly cut black hair and wearing a dark red cocktail dress staring intently at the small girl, almost as if she knew her.

The hitman quickly pushed any further thoughts from his mind as he noticed some familiar people congregated around the room.

Seated on a cot near one of the bookshelves, Jason Pierce sat with Denise Carlson, one of the very people who had managed to escape from the bank after that fat pig Dario had taken control of the delivery truck. The former took notice of Jake through the sea of faces and began waving eagerly.

"Hey Jake, over here," he called out.

Nodding in acknowledgment, he made his way over to the cot and just as he arrived, he noticed two more familiar faces from the library.

"Nick! Cassie!" the hitman called out as he spotted the two young adults standing not too far away, conversing quietly.

Jake sat down on the cot next to Jason and Denise and then removed his heavy trenchcoat, waiting for Nick Luster and Cassie Ling to join them.

"Holy crap Jake, you made it!" Nick gleefully exclaimed as he rushed over to shake hands with the dark-clad man.

"Oh my god Jake, you ran off on us like that. We seriously thought you wouldn't make it!" Cassie replied as she placed a hand on his tensed shoulder.

"I don't die that easily," the hitman coolly replied.

"Obviously you don't," Jason added, touching fists with his much taller companion, "Especially after the way you handled all those scaly lizard things."

"Scaly lizard things?" Cassie asked, staring worriedly down to Jake.

Jake sat around with the group of survivors and gave them an abbreviated account of what had happened after he escaped from the library and how he had happened across Jason and the others, leading to their battle with the Hunters and finally making it to the R.P.D.

"Man, that's some pretty deep sounding shit you got yourself into," Nick gasped looking over to Cassie, who shared a similar horrified gaze.

"Indeed it is," another voice cut in from behind.

Jake turned to find Officer Dustin Burchill slumped against the wall nearby, having remained hidden throughout the entire duration of the story.

"Burchill?" the hitman asked.

"Yep, it's me," the officer said pushing himself back to his feet, still a little weakened after his near death poisoning at the hands of that gigantic spider. "Why did you run off like that? That was reckless and stupid."

Jake sighed heavily at having to receive another lecture, "You had more people you needed to get to safety and you didn't have enough room on your copter. If you would've stayed around waiting for me, then who knows if those goddamned spiders would've had the time to come out after you guys. Hell, that pilot of yours was probably going to leave me behind anyway, I remember him fighting with both O'Doyle and the lieutenant whether or not I'd be able to come along."

Burchill steeled at the mention of his murdered colleague's name and had to compose himself before speaking.

"Well whatever the case is, you must have some damned phenomenal lucky streak in order to have survived that long on your own. Then again, that group you did come with probably wouldn't have made it here had you not been there to help out," the officer nodded before disappearing into the sea of humanity.

With Officer Burchill taking his leave, Jake then turned his attention over to Denise, "So, mind telling me whatever happened to that fat pig Dario? Last I recall, I had some unfinished business with that cowardly bastard," his voice becoming a near feral growl as he recalled being left for dead by the cowardly salesman.

"We didn't get very far," Denise started, "There were zombies all over the place and he kept freaking out. He crashed into something and next thing I know, him and his daughter were abandoning us. I tried to escape with those two cops, but that one, Andy, started acting crazy and Jean had to put him down.

"After that, we were trying to get around on foot, but there were too many of those things and Jean disappeared into the subway, probably thinking I was right behind him. Oh I was so scared and probably would've died had those other cops not picked me up and brought me here."

"Man, I knew that fat fuck Dario would get all of you killed or come damn near close to it," Jake grumbled loudly, not caring who heard him. "His own spinelessness almost got me killed. He'd better be thankful he took off when he did, or else I would've tracked him down and killed him myself," he growled, patting suggestively at the heavy magnum revolver held in his shoulder holster.

"Save some for me," Jason spoke up, "Remember, he nearly killed me too when he pulled that shit."

"I think there would've been plenty of his fat ass to go around for the both of us," Jake chuckled, eliciting a laugh from both Jason and Denise.

From out of the blue, Jake was able to make out Kyle Rawlings sifting through the crowd of faces. The rookie officer had taken immediate notice of him and quickly made his way through to greet him.

"Figured I'd probably find you up here," the young cop said reclining against a space of wall.

"You guessed right," Jake replied, looking around the room trying to pick out the exact number of survivors present, when his gaze met that of Kyle's, who had been doing the same. "Is that all there is here?"

Kyle stared back quietly surprised that a civilian would ask him of all people, a rookie who had only been on the job for roughly four months by this point. He didn't know the exact answer, going by what he had heard from the other officers around the station.

"To tell the truth, I don't know. From what I've heard around, there were a lot more who had made it, like over a hundred and fifty something, but some reporter guy named Ben came through, claiming he knew a way out through the sewers," the young officer said, making sure his voice was in a whisper so no civilians could hear him.

"He said there was some exit through a manhole in the station's kennel and a bunch of people tried to make a break for it. Needless to say, none of them ever came back," he said as a visible chill ran down his spine. "The guy was causing too much trouble, so they locked him up down in the cells. He sounds like a serious whack job, saying that some major company is behind all of this bullshit going on, but he won't say exactly who."

Jake needed no explanation, knowing right away who was behind all of this madness. He had nearly gotten himself killed plenty of times in an attempt to take out one of their most important researchers.

"Umbrella…"

"What?" Kyle asked, leaning closer towards the hitman.

"Nothing, it's nothing," Jake said as he looked over to the double doors that led to the station's main hall, which opened to reveal David, Samantha and a few others coming through. A few of the officers went over to receive the weary riot officer, who stood there receiving their condolences before being allowed to pass.

Taking notice of the hired gun, David quickly made his way over to him with Samantha following closely behind. Setting down both his ballistic helmet and rifle, he collapsed onto another cot and exhaled deeply before reaching down to loosen the strings on his boots.

"You alright man?" Jake asked, looking over to the other man, who kept his head down and his eyes hidden from plain view. Jason, Denise, Cassie, Nick and Kyle all stared at him worriedly; able to sense something was wrong even though they hadn't witnessed what he had been forced to do to Donald's son.

There was no immediate reply from the man and now Samantha began staring at him.

"An innocent child just died…" he spoke in a hoarse, grave tone nearly choking on his words as he struggled to get them out. "…he had to be put down…I had to put him down…" David spoke, looking up to face the others, his red eyes watering as he struggled to fight back tears.

Neither Jake nor the others said anything in reply, horrified by the haunted look behind his dark blue eyes. It was almost as if he had become a zombie himself.

"I've probably killed half the people I've known in this city over the years all within the span of three days…three fucking days!" the man growled.

"David, you have to pull yourself together," Samantha said gripping onto his arm with one hand and gently rubbing his shoulder with the other. "None of this is your fault, it's someone else's. You didn't kill all of those innocent people out there, they did. You might not be able to save everybody, but you can find whoever did this to them and bring them to justice. If you have the drive, you can do it."

Sighing deeply, David looked over to the young woman and then around to the others before stopping at Kyle.

"I'd listen to her man," the rookie replied, "As long as there are still people here to protect, we still have a job to do and together, we can make damn sure somebody else makes it out of this mess alive."

David nodded in response, "As long as I'm alive, I'll do whatever I can. It won't be easy, but I'll do it…anything to make sure another family isn't torn apart like the Byrd family."

As the officer spoke, Jake looked around the room to see that many of the survivors present were actually managing to fall asleep in this nightmare. It was surprising since he felt none of them possessed the mental strength he did and wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink.

Then again, that seemed like a pretty arrogant sentiment on his behalf when he thought about it. He didn't expect to vomit at the sight of all those corpses in the library, having shot plenty of people to death in the past, including one instance where he cornered a man in a barn and kept shooting him until he fell backwards and was impaled upon a rusted old piece of farm equipment.

Bullet wounds, being impaled, immolation…they all seemed so clean compared to being torn apart by the living dead and the other monstrosities dwelling within this city.

"_God I've gotta stop thinking about this shit…" _Jake told himself as he felt his eyelids getting heavy, obviously from watching the others falling asleep. He lazily reached down to untie his shoes and then removed his belt. Plopping himself down onto a cot that was barely wide enough to hold him, he pulled the magnum from its holster and placed it under his pillow before carefully lowering himself onto the brittle mattress.

Before he knew it, sleep quickly overcame the young man and he drifted off into Dreamland, left to reflect upon his past…

Author's Note: Jake has finally made his way to the infamous R.P.D. of all places and to the RE faithful following this story closely, I'm sure some of you had your fair share of "geek out" moments as more well-known characters like Marvin, Ada, Irons and Sherry made their first appearances in this story…well okay…probably not on the last two, being that one of them is a creepy closet sexual sadist who is a little too obsessed with taxidermy and the other being some bratty little girl who couldn't run for shit and didn't know jack shit about firing a gun!

But yeah, this chapter was largely intended to be Jake's introduction to the R.P.D. itself and within due time, the action will really start to pick up once again.

Until then, this is the Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	20. Ch 19: The Viper's Lullaby

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And so the Metal Harbinger comes crawling out of his hole to present his loyal readers with the latest installment of "Darkness Arises: Reborn!"

I recently got sidelined by yet another case of writer's block, one which drove me to rewrite the original Chapter 16 and split it into two separate chapters, a case of E.C.S. (Epic Chapter Syndrome) that more likely could have been described as "Overkill Syndrome."

After taking some time off to work on my Street Fighter and Grand Theft Auto fics, I have returned and for this next installment I'm going to get a little "experimental."

This chapter is going to be a mixture of the usual third person action sequences combined with first person storytelling through the eyes of Jake Cavanaugh himself. This is the first time I will be trying this in the DA rewrite. Until then, I'm going to let the reviews speak for themselves.

Now on with the story!!!

Additional disclaimer: This chapter contains more swearing and darker subject matter compared to my previous ones, so I question whether or not this would be an "M" rated one compared to the others. I leave that up to the discretion of YOU the reader.

Chapter 19: The Viper's Lullaby

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Jake was startled awake by the trio of gunshots. He tried to bolt upright and reach for the gun concealed beneath his pillow, but his entire body felt like it weighed a ton.

"What…" he tried to shout something aloud, but could only manage a weak, hoarse whisper. His vision was obscured by crimson streaks, which he could only blink away. Hell, it was a chore to even move his head around.

"For God's sake Fox, don't just stand there, shoot the bastards!" a voice called out.

_"That voice…it can't be…" _the hitman thought, overcome by an ungodly terror, _"…that guy is dead!"_

Slowly opening his eyes, he found a curly-haired man crouching to his right, armed with a handheld 9mm Uzi. Reacting to the unseen man's order, he reached his arm out and blindly fired, every loud pop thundering into Jake's ears and making him groan aloud. His head quaked with every shot and it felt as if it would explode at any second.

Only now did it hit him that he wasn't in the police station.

_"Why the fuck am I here?" _Jake asked himself, _"Last I knew, I was falling asleep in the R.P.D.'s library. Now, I'm lying here in a back alley unable to move. What the fuck gives?"_

The screeching of tires muted out the gunshots and the unseen man again called out.

"C'mon Viper, move your lazy ass and help us get this kid out of here!!!"

_"Viper!!!"_

Jake was unable to move his arms and again passed out as he felt himself being lifted from the ground.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A thunderous volley resounded within the cramped quarters, finally forcing Jake to shoot his eyes open.

"These bastards aren't letting up!" an unseen man shouted, followed by the chatter of an assault rifle.

"Don't let them surround us!" another called out as he could make out the roar of motorcycle engines coming from both sides of the vehicle he occupied.

Rolling his head to the side, the hitman's eyes widened as he found himself staring directly into the face of a coiled serpent with its bloodied fangs bared and fires burning within its beady eyes. He managed a weak gasp and again clenched his eyes shut, but felt nothing.

"Hey bro', stay down and you'll be alright," a voice commanded.

Moving his gaze toward the sound of the voice, Jake found himself looking into the face of a man who appeared to be a few years older than him. His dark hair was worn in a short crewcut and he had a matching mustache and goatee on his face, contrasting his pale skin. The man's eyes were a light green that matched the color of the serpent, gracing the patch upon his jacket sleeve.

"We're getting you outta here. Those biker bitches back there were going to string your ass up and turn you into a human piñata," he spoke, slapping a fresh clip into his submachine gun.

More gunshots rang out and the man winced as glass rained down upon him.

"Fucking kill those bastards!" another man shouted from the front of the vehicle.

"I'm try-" another individual hollered back, just as the crackle of submachine gun fire rang out and the man's voice became a throaty gurgle.

"Damn it!"

"Fuck it, I'll take 'em!" the dark-haired man shouted and quickly pulled himself into the vehicle's backseat, leaving Jake alone in the cargo area.

"Viper, watch out!" another voice shouted before it was silenced by the ear-splitting rattle of a freshly-acquired assault rifle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A bright light from above blinded him as his eyes fluttered open.

_"Have I died and gone to Heaven?" _Jake asked himself, finally having gained the strength to move his arm and shield his eyes.

"Guys, he's waking up!" a voice called out.

He had to find out who that was and as he went to move, he finally felt refreshed and started to move his limbs, kicking off the ratty old blanket covering him. A throbbing pain hammered against the insides of his skull as he attempted to move, but he was going to let that stop him from sitting up.

"Hey man, take it easy!" the same unseen voice spoke as he felt a hand grabbing his shoulder.

"Watch it Fox, we don't know how badly he's hurt," another man spoke up.

Willing himself to look up, Jake blinked his eyes a few times before his vision finally started to focus and he finally got a good look at the man grabbing his shoulder.

Right away he noticed the man's full head of thick curly brown hair and it hit him.

It was the guy from the alley!

"Hey man, you alright?" he asked, his hazel eyes meeting Jake's.

The young man did not respond, his gaze transfixed upon the man's tattoo of a leaping fox that covered much of his left bicep.

"Yeah…I'm fine…my head's a little sore…but I think I'll make it," he finally spoke.

"You got lucky kid. Those bikers back there really did a number on you," another man spoke, this one a tall blond-haired man with his hair shaved into a military-style buzz cut and a U.S. Marine Corps tattoo prominently sticking out on his right deltoid. A pair of glimmering dog tags completed the military motif this man carried.

"I'm surprised they didn't break your neck after the way that one guy broke the barstool across the back of your head," a third man spoke, this one of Pacific Islander descent with his hair cut into some weird pattern and tribal designs covering nearly every inch of flesh his muscular arms had to offer.

"Oh yeah…I remember those guys…" Jake spoke, his mind finally taking him back to that dive bar in the middle of nowhere.

Some tough guy bikers had accosted him over trespassing on "their turf" and proceeded to talk smack; shoving him around much like the bullies had done to him back in high school. Not wanting to lay down for anything, Jake attempted to stand his ground and talked his own line of smack right back to them.

Needless to say, they didn't take very kindly to that and proceeded to beat the living daylights out of him.

"It was every bastard in that bar on top of you kid," a fourth man spoke up, this one clad mostly in green, with his fiery red hair shaved close to his head and a goatee and mustache. The young man could recognize his voice right away as the man who had been barking orders the entire time. "Those Luciferians aren't human, they're fucking animals. They would've eaten your remains after they killed you had we not shown up."

"Damn straight, thank God Viper's such a good shot," the curly-haired man spoke up.

The same guy from the S.U.V.'s cargo area with Jake then stepped into view, a burly man around his height wearing the same jacket bearing his namesake patch.

"Those Luciferians are wimps Eddie. Taking those bastards down was like shooting fish in a barrel," the man called Viper spoke, making a machine gun hand gesture and pretending to shoot at non-existent adversaries.

"Ever the boastful bastard you are, Viper!" the blond-haired man chuckled, "But you're _our_ boastful bastard and a damned good one too!" he added, touching fists with Viper.

"Guess I've gotta say thanks for saving my ass," Jake smiled as he reached over and shook hands with his savior.

"Anytime bro', what's your name?" he asked.

"Jake…Jake Cavanaugh…" the young man replied, his voice still a bit shaky.

"So Jake, what were you doing at that shithole back there?" the redheaded man asked, now getting involved in the conversation.

The young man did not reply immediately and only stared silently towards the five other men.

"A long story…" he replied grimly, "…a long, very sad and very fucked up story…"

"Take it easy, bro', you don't have to tell us everything at once," Viper replied.

"I'll only tell people I trust…" Jake trailed off.

"Well you can trust us," the redheaded man spoke motioning towards the other men. "You're among a solid crew, a group of friends who will do anything for each other."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"Indeed I felt like I was among a solid crew. Whoever these guys were, they didn't seem like your typical run-of-the-mill gangbangers. Whatever it was between them, it ran deeper than mutual necessity. It was almost like genuine friendship, like they were a second family to each other._

_ "There was Fox, a weapons specialist who knew almost everything there was about firearms. Nothing was impossible for him to fix, and nothing was impossible for him to craft._

_ "Then there was Buster, a former U.S.M.C. demolitions specialist. If it was made for blowing shit up, he knew how to make the most out of any explosive device handed to him._

_ "Hawk was that guy with all those tattoos like he was a walking art museum. A damned good marksman, nothing was ever too fast or too out of sight for him to drop with a single, well-placed round. He was also a damned good survivalist who I swear could survive a week alone in the woods with nothing but a knife and a canteen._

_ "The 'leader' of this clique was Eddie O'Bannon. His old man was Ewan O'Bannon, head of the O'Bannon Mob. Despite being the 'boss' kid' he sure as hell didn't act like it. Everybody in the organization respected him and when his time came to take over; we knew he would take the O'Bannon's to heights his father could only dream of. He liked me right away because I was a fellow Irishman, as was Viper._

_ "Out of the entire group, I bonded most with Tyler 'Viper' Denton, the very man who had saved my life._

_ "He was a jack of all trades and was one of Old Man O'Bannon's favorite errand boys because of it. They called him 'Viper' because of his quick and deadly precision. He was an asset to whomever he served and word around the street was that the family paid him a lot more than their average grunt to keep his services. I never found out much, aside from the fact that he had a nice townhouse, two sports cars, a solid gold Rolex and was able to afford a different hooker for every weekend._

_ "To me, he was more than that._

_ "Over time, I learned how he came from a background similar to mine and we quickly bonded. He was more than an associate; he was like a brother to me. We hung out all the time together outside of missions and he taught me practically everything I know about being a hitman._

_ "I watched his back and he watched my back."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Next thing he knew, Jake found himself in a tattoo parlor admiring the work of art that had just been completed on his upper right arm.

Staring back at him from the wall-length mirror was an elaborate design of a red dragon surrounded by flames.

_"It has to be one of the most beautiful pieces of artwork I've ever seen," _he smirked to himself, entranced by its incomparable splendor. "Too perfect," he said aloud.

"Indeed it is," Viper nodded in agreement.

In his hands he held the very piece of paper on which Jake had sketched out his design for the tattoo that had now been perfectly replicated onto his arm.

"How could you think up such a thing?" Viper spoke with great interest, "Is it because you fight with such fierceness and cunning like a dragon would?"

"Actually no," Jake replied as he walked over and took a seat next to his best friend, "it means something else."

"So it does have some actual meaning behind it?" Viper asked, receiving a glare from his friend that was part annoyed and part sarcastic.

"If I'm going to have something permanently seared into my flesh, I want it to have a meaning behind it, not simply because it looks cool," Jake replied.

"Now this I have to hear," Viper said, placing his feet onto the floor and leaning closer towards the younger man.

"When I was a child, I used to have dreams of these fucked up shadowy creatures chasing me. They followed me wherever I went, even through the walls! Whatever I did, there was no escape. In the end, these things would have me cornered and ready to eat me alive, until it would appear."

"And I assume I already know what this 'it' is," Viper said looking towards the tattoo.

Jake nodded, "A red dragon would always appear to me in my dreams. It would suddenly appear at the last second to burn all those creeps away into nothing, as if it was meant to protect me from all the evils in the world. No matter what happened, the red dragon was always there for me, ready to save the day."

The hitman then stood up to again admire the tattoo in the wall-length mirror, "As long as I have this dragon upon me, I feel protected."

"That sounds pretty deep man," Viper said rising to his feet, "and you've got Mando here to thank for having the skill at translating such a fine piece of art onto a different kind of canvas," he said as a bald, heavily-tattooed Hispanic man walked into the room.

"Anytime, I do everything I can and settle for nothing less," Mando said tapping fists with Viper. "Consider this one on the house," he then added, switching his attention over to Jake, "I owe you guys one after the way you saved my ass from those Colombians last week…"

The tattoo artist's last sentence trailed as he was distracted by something outside. Viper stared at him oddly and then looked towards the front window himself. His eyes soon widened.

"Oh shit! Get down!" Viper called out, grabbing Jake by his shoulders and yanking him down to the floor.

A rattle of machine gun fire rang out, shattering all of the windows and tearing through the unsuspecting tattoo artist.

Jake and Viper lay on the tiled floor with their hands over their heads and listed as more than one vehicle came to a halt outside the parlor. A plethora of Spanish-speaking voices came from outside and right away the two men knew who was behind the attack.

"Colombians," Viper hissed as he reached into his coat and withdrew his Desert Eagle, "Mando keeps and AK-74 hidden behind his counter. Get it!"

Waiting for the first Colombian goon to appear in sight, Viper rose to his feet and squeezed the trigger, sending a round straight through the man's heart.

Spanish cursing filled the air and another volley of automatic fire pelted the store, shattering many of the contents within.

Having finally acquired the assault rifle hidden behind the counter, Jake rose to his feet and returned fire.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"Viper saved my ass on more than one occasion, and I trusted him with my life._

_ "Not too long after that incident with the Colombians at the tattoo parlor, Hawk got killed trying to help us destroy one of their cocaine shipments._

_ "We had a funeral for him that was attended by nearly the entire O'Bannon Mob, including Old Man O'Bannon himself. It was a grand funeral for a man who had given much to their organization, the closest thing he had to an actual family._

_ "Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the proper sendoff any one could ask for._

_ "Those Colombians, being the ever-so-opportunistic bastards they are, decided to crash the funeral, seeing it as a chance to wipe out our leadership._

_ "It was an all out assault and we lost quite a few of our guys, including Buster. Those bastards were relentless, but we were determined to survive and we turned that cemetery into a bloodbath._

_ "Through all the madness, I still recall that sniper being perched atop a mausoleum, ready to cut down Viper as he was pinned down by an entire carload of thugs, a weathered old tombstone as his only protection._

_ "The guy had my buddy in his sights and I had only one bullet left in my clip. I had to do something or else Viper was going to die._

_ "It was a one in a million shot, but I had to take it. I leapt out from my hiding spot and fired, sending my bullet through the rifle's scope and catching that sniper right through the eye. It provided Viper plenty of time to finish off those bastards before we could make our escape._

_ "In the end, Viper knew of the perfect way to pay me back for saving his ass."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake stood quietly at the harbor on what was appearing to be a stormy night. A beaten up old van was slowly backing towards him and came to a complete halt just inches away from him. The driver's side door opened and Viper stepped out with a confident grin on his usually cool features.

"I got your call. What's up?" the hitman asked as his friend made his way around to the van's back doors.

Viper turned to face him, "Remember that 'special someone' you told me you were looking for, that bastard you've been looking to get back at after all these years?"

Jake's eyes lit up and he stared more intently towards his friend, "Yeah, what about him?"

Viper chuckled menacingly before reaching for the door handles, "Well look at who I found in a Manhattan crackhouse!" he said pulling the doors open and climbing inside.

"Get your ass out there you sick freak!" he could be heard shouting from inside, followed by the metallic thud of a figure being thrown against the van's interior. The vehicle rocked a few more times before a battered figure with its wrists bound was thrown from the back and landed on the ground right before Jake's feet.

The man was in his late thirties and had thinning strawberry blond colored hair, along with the pale skin and emaciated figure of a severe drug addict. Despite the multitude of bruises and cuts covering his face, as well as having aged nearly fifteen years, Jake could still tell who the man was by the sickly look in his bloodshot hazel eyes.

"You!" the hitman growled before drawing his leg back and kicking the man in the ribs as hard as he could, sending him tumbling backwards and coughing up blood as he rolled over onto his stomach.

"Say hello to Melvin Edwards, or as he was calling himself 'Simon Patrick,' hiding from somebody else too," Viper announced as he grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him back to his feet.

"Quite a piece of work you were looking for Jake," Viper spoke as he watched the man struggle to maintain his balance, coughing fresh blood onto his soiled pink button up shirt. "I had one of the boys run a background check and it seems you weren't the only one looking for this guy, the cops were too."

"Oh really?" Jake asked as he looked the gangly man up and down. It had been years since he had seen this guy in person and he was still every bit the creep he was back when he had known him.

"Yep, from what we found out, Mr. Edwards here was picked up a few years back for possession of child pornography and suspicion of more than one count of both rape and sexual assault."

"That's a fucking lie!" Melvin spat, his speech carrying a heavy lisp with the all the blood he spat out.

Viper ignored the man's outburst and continued with his report, "From what I read, authorities in three different states want to have a word with 'our friend' here, thinking he might have been that spree rapist who terrorized those colleges in Pennsylvania, as well as that creep in the clown costume whom more than one little kid in Delaware accused of touching them where the sun don't shine. It's even rumored he might be responsible for that woman's dismembered torso they found in that ravine near Dyersburg, Virginia."

Hearing that list of heinous offenses made Jake's blood start to boil.

"Just what I'd expect from a fucker like you," he spoke to the battered Melvin. He wasn't a model citizen himself, but he still hated those who committed such crimes against defenseless women and children, especially rapists and pedophiles.

"Okay, well I believe I've had my fun with Mr. Edwards here, or 'Mr. Patrick,' whatever you wish to call him. He's all yours Jake," Viper said, directing a sinister smile towards his best friend as he stepped aside.

With the perverted man left all to himself, Jake wasted no time walking over to him and driving his fist into the man's nose, breaking it upon impact and sending him tumbling back to the pavement.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" Melvin cried out as he tried to crawl away, only to take another boot to his broken ribs.

"More than you think!" Jake roared as he flipped the man over onto his back and began kicking him repeatedly. Having kicked him enough, he then grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him back to his feet, driving his knee into the man's gut and then tossing him against Viper's van, following up with a vicious uppercut that left the older man spitting four of his front teeth onto the concrete.

"P…Please…don't kill me! Please don't kill me!" the man cried, tears streaming down his grimy face, "Please don't kill me! I'm sorry for whatever I did to you…Please don't kill me…I'll never do it again!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jake screamed, grabbing the man and tossing him as hard as he could against the van, rocking the vehicle and leaving a large dent in its side. Having tortured the man enough for the time being, he against pulled him back to his feet.

"Does the name Clarissa Belding mean anything to you?" the hitman spat.

"I…I…I…I d-d-don't kn-know…what you're talking ab…b…b…bout…" Melvin stammered, only for the hitman to drive his knee into the man's groin.

"Liar!!!" he screamed before grabbing the man and clamping his hand onto the man's jaw so he could look him directly in the eyes.

"Clarissa Belding was an innocent girl who had a bright future ahead of her…until you stole her innocence away from her," Jake growled hatefully, tightening his grip onto the man's bloodied chin, "I saw what you did to her you monster! I watched you violate her! You didn't just steal her innocence, you stole her humanity! You ruined that poor girl's life!"

"She was a slut!" Melvin blurted out, "She needed to be taught the error of her ways! She needed to be shown what happened to wayward girls, the very whores you see on the street!"

Jake drove his fist into the man's face and was rewarded with another crack, breaking his target's orbital bone.

"You're a terrible fucking liar Edwards; I could see it in your eyes the moment I laid eyes upon you again. For fourteen long years I've waited for this moment, waiting for a chance to make you own up to your sins," the hitman hissed.

"Wh…who are you?" Melvin asked, staring worriedly towards Jake with his good eye.

The hitman continued to glare hatefully towards the battered rapist before taking the time to compose himself and speak. "My name is Jake Cavanaugh. Clarissa Belding was a close friend to my older sister and when you ruined that girl's life, you also robbed my sister of someone close to her."

"Cavanaugh…" Melvin muttered, searching through his mind to see where he could remember that name from until it finally hit him, "Yeah…I remember you Cavanaugh's…that oldest one of your bunch…he was a criminal, and…and the dad was a drunk…and the oldest daughter was quite the slut herself."

Jake had heard enough and again proceeded to viciously assault Melvin Edwards, punching, kicking and doing whatever else he could to inflict pain upon the lanky man before wrapping both his hands around the man's throat and tossing him back to the concrete, breaking the man's hip upon impact.

"You've made too many people suffer Edwards and it ends right here," the hitman said withdrawing his gun, "No more will you be able to quench your sick desires at the expense of an innocent woman! It ends right here!"

Before Melvin Edwards could scream, Jake pulled the trigger again and again and again, until his clip ran dry.

In the end fifteen bullets were fired into the man's gangly carcass, one bullet for every year Clarissa Belding lived.

Fifteen bullets were all that were needed to satisfy Jake's thirst for revenge.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"Melvin Edwards was a sick bastard who came from my community. I watched him from a distance as he jumped that poor girl in the park and brutally raped her. I was only nine years old at the time and couldn't have done anything to help her. I couldn't go to the police because he was the 'son of a preacher' and nobody would've ever believed that 'nice little Melvin would ever do such a thing.'_

_ "Clarissa Belding was a friend of my sister Rose, one whom I harbored a boyhood crush on. I still remember that tingly feeling I get whenever I saw her and how she was always nice to me whenever she came over to visit. I know it would've been a long shot for my age, but man how I wished I could've asked her out._

_ "Then that prick came along and destroyed her life. She was never the same again after what he did to her and it wasn't too long after that, she was found in Somerset Lake. It was ruled a suicide, no doubt the incident had been that traumatic for her._

_ "I hated myself for years and years for not having been able to do anything to stop that bastard. If I would've known he would go on and victimize others, I so would've grabbed a rock and bashed his skull in right then and there, would have been one less horror in the world._

_ "It was because of Viper that I was able to finally bring some closure to that trauma and in the process, forever free the world from that sick rapist freak. I wanted to do what I could to make sure Clarissa Belding's spirit could rest in peace."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Alright everybody down on the fucking ground now!" Eddie O'Bannon shouted before firing his M4 carbine into the air.

Jake, Viper, Fox and some new guy named Fingers all followed him into the spacious bank, armed with similar weapons and clad from head to toe in black combat gear with matching ski masks.

"Get down on the fucking floor!" Eddie screamed as he lead the charge, bringing up the stock of his rifle to pistol whip a man who had been too frightened to move, forcing him down to the marble floor at once.

All of the customers and tellers did as they were told, collapsing to the floor with their hands placed over their heads, whimpering nervously as the armed men moved all around them.

Once he believed the situation was under control, Eddie looked over to Fingers, "Alright, get back there and get that safe open!"

He then turned to Jake, "Watch his back!"

The hitman nodded and followed Fingers over to the security door that would allow them behind the counters.

"Open the fucking door!" Jake ordered, pounding on it impatiently.

The nearest teller did not immediately reply, staring at him worriedly with tears running down her face.

Shaking his head in frustration, he fired a round into the ceiling, making her scream.

"Don't make me hurt you! Now open the fucking door!"

"Okay, okay please just don't shoot me," the woman pleaded before flipping the switch that would unlock the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"About a year and a half ago, I got talked into doing a bank job along with Viper and Fox._

_ "I was never keen on the idea from the beginning. I'm a hitman, not an errand boy, I only preferred the big time jobs where I could take out other bad guys, not terrorize innocent civilians._

_ "The other guy who was supposed to do the job got busted three days earlier and Eddie was in desperate need of a sixth man to pull the job off. He wanted me to do it because he thought I was such a good shot and 'scared of absolutely jack shit.' In the end, I only did it out of respect because both him and his old man were so good to me._

_ "It was something they had been planning out for five months. The Bank of Manhattan was our target, on a day when they would be receiving 'a big shipment' as the guys put it. Altogether it was going to be Eddie leading the operation, along with myself, Viper and Fox acting as the shooters and then some new guy named Fingers to act as our safecracker. Another new guy named Tony would act as our getaway driver, waiting in the back alley in a stolen Am-Ex delivery truck._

_ "Come the day of the job, everything would be going fine until one of the tellers managed to trip a silent alarm. Next thing I know, the pigs were converging upon us like the plague."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"This is the N.Y.P.D., throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up!" _a voice called out over a megaphone.

"Oh shit! They've got us fucking surrounded! What are we gonna do now?" Fox shouted as he peeked his head through the corner of a front door to see the entire platoon of squad cars that had already assembled in front of the bank.

From another window, Jake looked out to see two S.W.A.T. vans arriving and both their teams piling out within seconds, disappearing from sight. He could tell they were already taking positions along the front of the building and ready to storm the place when given the cue. The flutter of helicopter blades sounded from overhead and judging by the loudness, he assumed there were probably two police choppers outside.

"Just keep your fucking head on tight," Eddie shouted back, "We've got what we came for and we should be out of here soon enough."

"You'd better be right about that," Fingers grunted under the weight of the bag he carried, packed from top to bottom with freshly-minted dollar bills. All five of them carried similar bags at the moment.

Jake hugged the wall along one of the windows, wanting to stay out of sight in case the police had set up snipers. He checked his clip over again to make sure he would be ready for the fight that would likely follow. His trigger finger had begun to itch, but he shrugged it off and kept himself as cool and collected as possible.

He looked over to his three other companions, who much like him, struggled to maintain their composure, and then over to Viper, who had taken a position near some of the hostages gathered along the building's eastern wall.

It was then that he noticed what his friend was about to do.

"Viper, what the hell are you doing?" Jake shouted to his fellow masked gunman.

The continuous rattle of automatic fire was his only answer, followed by the dying screams of civilians.

"Goddamn it Viper, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Eddie ran over and grabbed the man by the shoulder. By the time he had gotten there, nine civilians lay dead or dying on the once pristine marble floor. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. You don't blast people without reason you sick fuck!"

"Why are we letting them live?" he spat, motioning towards the surviving patrons who had been corralled into a corner at the opposite side of the room. "They're just slowing us down. Besides, you didn't say anything about us taking hostages anyway, especially the bitch who tripped the silent alarm on us," he callously spoke, motioning to a blonde-haired woman who lay with her limbs splayed out at her sides, her once white blouse now stained a dark crimson.

"Great, now they're gonna be shooting to kill," Fingers groaned.

The shattering of glass distracted all men from their conversation and they looked towards one of the front windows, where a metal canister had just been launched from outside.

"Oh shit! Move!" Eddie hollered as a shrill hissing sounded, gas emitting from the canister.

"There should be a back door nearby," Fox shouted over to the lead robber, "If we can get back there, we should be good to go."

More glass shattered as more teargas canisters were fired into the bank, causing most of the civilians to cough and gag violently. Jake could even start to feel his own eyes water, but did what he could to resist rubbing them, knowing he would only make things worse on himself. Still, he couldn't fight off his cough and the burning sensation eating away at his throat.

"N.Y.P.D., freeze!" an authoritative voice boomed as a unit of black-clad S.W.A.T. officers entered in formation.

Doing the only thing he could, the hitman squeezed the trigger and his cohorts soon followed.

The tear gas obscured their vision and it impossible for them to tell whether or not they were shooting the cops or civilians, all they could see were shadowy figures dropping in the firefight.

"C'mon, let's fucking move!" Eddie screamed in his ear, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him backward, "The rest of you, double time it!"

Jake continued backing himself towards a back hallway that contained their aforementioned escape route. As the smoke cleared he was able to make out two cops charging towards him and he squeezed the trigger, dropping both men with armor-piercing rounds to their chests.

The hitman backed himself towards the exit, taking cover behind whatever he could as he struggled to reload his rifle. Sparks, bits of plaster, shredded papers, dirt from shattered planters, everything he could think of flew in his face. He could no longer hear the cries of his colleagues, but could still hear the rattle of machinegun fire coming from the back alley, telling him they must still be nearby.

Finally seeing the back door just inches away from him, Jake popped out and fired another burst of automatic fire towards the pursuing officers, managing to take down one with a round to his knee and drop another with three shots to the chest before finally reaching the door.

Kicking it open, the hitman found himself in a dingy back alley and noticed the spent casings littering the ground, telling him the others weren't too far away. Running down the alley, he rounded a corner and noticed the repeated flashes of gunfire, along with the red and blue of police lights.

"Guys, hold up! I'm coming!" Jake called out as he rushed down the alley.

When he came to the end he looked to his left and found two patrol cruiser parked at awkward angles and raised his rifle to fire, only to stop when he noticed the bullet holes riddling the cars' surfaces and the streaks of blood decorating both vehicles. Looking to the ground, he noticed the shot up corpses of the four police officers from each vehicle.

Thinking a threat had been dealt with; he looked to his right to find the hijacked delivery truck waiting for him, but he could only gasp in shock at what he found lying near the truck.

Three men wearing outfits similar to his lay on the ground in twisted poses of agony, each one of them riddled with high-powered automatic rounds.

"What the fuck?" he blurted out in horror, unable to immediately tell who was who among the bodies.

The cocking of a gun came from behind and just as Jake was turning to see who was waiting for him, a lone gunshot erupted.

Jake could only gasp in pain as the round struck him, tearing through his armor and catching him in the collarbone.

Everything went black as he passed out from the pain.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"Just as I was making my escape, I found three of my buddies lying dead before me. Next thing I know, some asshole shoots me and leaves me for dead._

_ "Granted, where the bullet hit me, by every right I should be dead. Yet somehow, I survived. Was it luck, or was it the Red Dragon protecting me? I may never know._

_ "All I know is that Eddie, Fox and Fingers were among the dead. Viper and Tony were nowhere to be found. I figured they probably heard all the gunfire and thought that I was dead, taking the chance to make their escape._

_ "With Eddie and the boys dead, and Viper and our driver nowhere to be found, I was the only one they managed to take alive. Naturally, all the blame would fall upon me._

_ "In the end, I was charged with a count of murder based on every police officer and civilian that died that night, in addition to armed robbery and possession of illegal firearms. Aside from life in prison, I also had the state of California fighting for extradition based on another murder I had committed there years ago. If that would've happened, I would've been looking at death for sure._

_ "My imprisonment wouldn't last long._

_ "They had me held at some place in upstate New York called the Almondville Correctional Institution, a place with more holes in its security than a sieve. You'd think they would've known better. One supposed 'self-inflicted injury' and a trip to infirmary later, I was knocking out some guard, stealing his uniform and his badge, and then getting his car and getting the hell out of there._

_ "Once I got out, I got back in touch with the O'Bannons and with that, Viper himself._

_ "When I look back upon that, it would be one of the biggest mistakes of my life, a day where I found out just how venomous he truly was."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been just another day for the two friends as they rode about in the sleek new Excella sports car Jake had stolen two weeks ago. At the moment, they were planning what they would do for the rest of their day.

"We oughta' go check out that new gentlemen's club over in Leighton," Viper said as he reclined in his leather seat, "I hear they've got quite a buffet in addition to all the 'scenery' the place has to offer."

Jake chuckled to himself as he pulled the car to a stop at the red light, "Typical Viper, whenever you're not looking to kill everything in sight, you're looking to screw everything in sight."

Viper laughed loudly at the comment and gave his friend a playful punch in the shoulder. "Typical Jake, always the jealous one."

"Whatever!" Jake shouted back, "You better make sure I get a free private dance this time, after the way I saved your ass from that voodoo freak three days ago."

"No problem man, what are friends for?" Viper nodded.

As he drove down the street, the ringing of Jake's cell phone distracted him from the playful banter and he turned down the loud rock music blaring over the radio.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and saw the caller listed on the ID screen as Jerry, another one of the O'Bannon boys. Motioning to Viper to be quiet, he pushed the "TALK" button.

"Jerry, what's up?" he asked, only to wince at the loud boom of a shotgun blast from the other end.

"Jake, you need to get your ass over to the print shop! Romanenko's boys are over here trying to bomb the place!" Jerry O'Bannon shouted from the other end before another shotgun blast sounded.

"Alright, we'll be right over!" Jake shouted back.

"Get over here quick! We don't have much-"

A gunshot sounded and the line went dead, leaving Jake to fear the worst.

"Change in plans. Jerry needs our help!" Jake announced as he brought the car to an abrupt halt and made an illegal U-turn right in front of an oncoming semi, forcing the driver to blare his horn. Ignoring the angry gesture, the hitman gunned the accelerator in the opposite direction.

"What's going on?" Viper shouted back as his friend sped through an intersection and narrowly dodged a station wagon.

"Romanenko's boys are attacking the print shop! Be ready to kick some ass!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"Recently, the O'Bannon's had been getting trouble from some new Russian outfit in town, The Romanenko Syndicate._

_ "From what we knew, they seemed to have their eggs in more than one basket: gun running, drug dealing, kidnapping, counterfeiting, extortion, assassinations…you name it, they probably were involved in it._

_ "They'd been causing a lot of trouble for the boss, trying to make a name for themselves at his expense. Naturally, Old Man O'Bannon wasn't going to take it lying down and told all of us to be extra vigilant._

_ "Eventually, that day came when they stepped it up; attacking the O'Bannon Printworks, the heart of the O'Bannon's counterfeiting operation. Jerry and the boys were pinned down and needed our help, so we hauled ass over there as quickly as we could._

_ "When we got there, the place was already a madhouse._

_ "The Romanenko's came in full force and right away, they reduced my nice new car to Swiss cheese, leaving barely any time for Viper and I to get out. They had all sorts of heavy artillery with them like they were going to war. How the ruckus didn't attract any police attention is beyond me, but has me thinking they must've bribed the cops or something._

_ "I managed to take down the thugs guarding the outer perimeter and from there, we decided to split up._

_ "Luckily, Jerry and Cade were alright, but those bastards had managed to slaughter most of the other guys, leaving the three of us and three other guys to fight off those pricks. We managed to tear our way through and thought we had the situation under control, until something unexpected happened…something I should've seen coming a long time ago."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You think we got them all?" one of the O'Bannon henchmen, a guy named Pat, asked as he nervously scoured the factory corridor along with Jake and the two other underlings, whose names the hitman had never bothered to learn.

The four men moved cautiously with their weapons drawn, traveling through the aftermath of a massacre that had O'Bannon and Romanenko henchmen's bodies lying around, along with those of several innocent factory workers who had been caught in the crossfire. All bodies were heavily shot up or burnt beyond recognition as a result of hand grenades and pipe bombs being introduced to the melee.

"We should have," Jake replied as he carefully observed a fallen Russian goon, his chest faintly rising as he bled out rapidly, assuring he wouldn't be enough of a threat for them.

"Then we should be getting the boys on the phone so they can get over here and get this mess cleaned up," Pat said as he kicked an empty AK-74 aside. "We need to get that done before the fuzz can start sniffing around. No doubt they probably got a few calls already with all the noise those Russian pricks were making."

"We have to make sure the place is secured first," the hitman replied as he nudged a nearby storage room door open, carefully scanning the tiny room for any threats before rejoining the others.

A gunshot sounded from nearby, startling the three O'Bannon thugs and bring Jake back into the hallway.

"Viper! Viper is that you?" the hitman called out.

"Yeah, it's me!" a reply came.

"Let's move!" Jake ordered the others as he began jogging towards the source of the sound.

The quartet made their way into one of the mainline rooms, where magazines and restaurant menus were printed, two of the few legitimate items that were printed there according to the assassin's knowledge.

Most of the machines had been heavily damaged and the unfinished materials they printed were strewn about the floor. The burnt shell of a damaged forklift had swerved to a stop near the room's entrance; its flames extinguished by the overhead sprinkler compartment, the smoking carcass of its former driver slumped over the steering wheel. As was the case with the other rooms, bodies were everywhere, most of them appearing to be O'Bannon henchmen in this room.

Near a large stack of crates carrying glossy paper, Viper knelt over the corpse of an O'Bannon underling, stripping the deceased man of his ammunition.

"Viper, are you alright?" Jake called out, taking a position near his friend, ready to watch his back in case any threats remained.

"I'm doing fine, just got done weeding out the crap," his best friend replied, slipping the extra M4 clips into his pocket as he rose back to his feet.

"Alright, good to know," Jake said returning his attention to the others, "Tell Jerry and Cade to get the old man on the phone. We've got a massive cleanup in order here, not to mention we've gotta get those shitheads back for this."

The hitman then returned his attention to Viper, "We're gonna get those fuckers back, I swear we will."

Looking to the floor, Jake observed the shot up carcasses of the O'Bannon men and the unknowing workers who had been caught in the crossfire. "I'm ready to rip out Roddy Romanenko's heart and feed it to him after this stunt."

Viper laughed harshly at the comment and loaded a fresh clip into his rifle, "For once Jake you're right, somebody is going down."

Something wasn't right with that statement and Jake looked towards his friend in sheer puzzlement. Before he could say anything in protest, he noticed the abrupt movement of the older man's hands.

Almost as if he could predict his movements, Jake dove out of the way as the man suddenly pulled the trigger and unleashed a volley of hot lead that tore through the three other O'Bannon guards, but missed the hitman himself as he had landed behind one of the machines.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud.

He couldn't believe it; Viper of all people had just shot at him, trying to kill his own best friend, and in the process had just killed three other men who entrusted their lives to him.

"What the hell are you doing Viper?" Jake shouted back, clutching his rifle and ready to open fire if need be.

Again, his so-called friend could only laugh harshly, "What does it look like Jake? Like I said, I'm weeding out the crap. You are among that crap, therefore, you deserve to die with all these other O'Bannon schmucks!" he called out before squeezing the trigger.

Jake winced repeatedly as the high-powered rounds pinged off the machine he hid behind. He was forced to move as a few began tearing through metal panels and one of the bullets nearly tore a chunk from his left ear. Crawling on his belly, he made his way behind another printing machine that had remained largely untouched.

Only now had it begun to register what had just happened. When the man's taunting words began to sink in, he could only stare in surreal shock and dismay at the man who was supposed to be his closest friend in the world. Then he registered what the man had done to Pat and the other two men, his lips then curled into an acidic snarl of hatred.

"Well I'll be fucking damned!"

Viper laughed like a madman and squeezed the trigger, continuing to pelt his former friend's defenses with his high-powered rounds. "My friends don't like what you've been doing to their merchandise, Jake. Only now have I been given permission to grind your ass into bloody strips. I've been waiting for this moment!"

Hearing those words finally allowed the hitman to put two and two together.

"You've been working for Romanenko all along, haven't you?" Jake asked, furrowing his brow as he crept along another machine with his rifle held close to him, ready to pop out and fire when needed.

"My, my Jake, you certainly don't look like it, but I will give it to you though, you always were sharper than you looked," Viper replied in a mocking tone that made his former friend's blood boil, "To answer your question, yes Jake, yes I've been working for the Romanenkos, only after they cut me a deal that was too good. I know I lied…so sue me!"

A wave of pure, unbridled anger overcame Jake and he leapt out into the open, releasing a howl of animalistic fury as he squeezed his trigger.

Reacting with similar lightning-quick reflexes, Viper dove for cover behind a stack of crates.

"Heh heh heh! Temper, temper my 'friend.' I would have cut you in on a piece of the action, that is if I knew you wouldn't be more dead weight like you always had been in the past," Viper spat.

Jake only growled in response to the insult. Normally, he would not have allowed such pitiful remarks to get under his skin, but this was coming from a man he had always entrusted his life to on many occasions, only to have his brotherly figure suddenly turn on him. The anger coursed through his veins, his blood boiling so badly he could swear he was about to explode.

"Yes, you heard me right, Jake," Viper chuckled from his hiding spot, "You always were a nobody, nothing but dead weight. I took you under my wing out of the goodness of my heart and tried to make you into something. Yet, you were still nothing but a weak little softy! I carried you on my back for so long, only then did I realize you were holding me back from greener pastures when Roddy Romanenko himself made me that generous offer I couldn't refuse."

The older man crept along the stack of crates he hid behind, carefully reaching for another clip.

"Roddy opened my eyes, Jake! He showed me I could make more transporting and dealing all that merchandise, rather than destroying it like your idealistic ass would've done. I knew you would've held me back and I knew of the perfect way to get your sorry ass out of the way, and not just yours, but those losers Eddie and Fox too! Yes Jacob, I'm sure you remember that night well, don't you?"

The very spot Jake had been shot suddenly throbbed, causing him to wince and rub the spot feverishly. It wasn't just the physical pain, but the emotional pain as well, the pain of betrayal.

"No…" he gasped aloud, his blood suddenly chilled by the realization, _"How could I have been so stupid?"_

"You want the truth; I'll give it to you," Viper shouted, "Yes Jake that was me who shot you! Fingers…Eddie…Fox…I killed them! I fucking killed them all!" he shouted in sadistic glee like he had just won the lottery, "I even convinced that gullible bastard Tony that he could've split the proceeds with me…man was he stupid! I showed him when I put a bullet in the back of his head too!"

Viper's raucous laughter then stopped, "I put a bullet in that worthless carcass of yours because I wanted you to die for your stupidity! I wanted you to die a slow, agonizing death! I was doing you a favor!" The man's tone then lowered to a near growl, "But no, you had to come back…you just had to come back," he said as he readied himself to make his strike, "Why couldn't you just fucking die?"

With those words, Viper leapt out into the open and unleashed a salvo of automatic fire directed at his former best friend, who would again dive for cover and manage to squeeze off a few rounds that sailed past his betrayer's head.

"You're going down you backstabbing prick, even if I have to take you down with me!" Jake replied as he scampered for cover behind a steel pillar that didn't offer much protection for his muscular form, "You took something dear from me and threw it out the window, and now I'm going to make you pay, you greedy son of a bitch!"

A harsh, taunting laugh was Viper's only reply. The sick bastard was truly enjoying every moment he screwed with his former friend's mind, so caught up in the moment he didn't even flinch as Jake managed to shoot the M4 out of his hands.

"I'm going to make you pay for all who have suffered because of your bullshit," Jake called out as the names came to his mind, "Eddie…Fingers…Fox…you're going to pay!"

"Always the boy scout, no natural killer instinct," Viper replied as he pulled out his Desert Eagle, "You still don't get it, do you Jake? You were a hopeless nobody. If it weren't for me, you would've either died or been in jail a long time ago!" he calmly replied as he stepped out and fired three shots at the hitman, forcing him to dive for cover behind a generator.

"I'm so going to enjoy stringing you up and cutting you into tiny little pieces after this is through," Viper cackled.

"You're gonna have to go through me first!" another voice called out.

Standing behind him, Jake found another redheaded man who closely resembled Eddie, minus the facial hair, wielding an M-249 S.A.W. light machinegun.

"Jerry!" Jake hissed.

"I heard everything Viper, and now I'm gonna make you pay!" Jerry O'Bannon announced.

Feeling emboldened by the arrival of his friend, "You picked the wrong side, Viper!" Jake announced as he rose to his feet and together, both men opened fire upon their traitorous adversary.

Knowing he was outnumbered and outgunned, Viper spun around on his heel and noticed the large window before him. Pushing himself back to his feet, he bolted for the window as the bullets flew all around him.

"Get back here!" Jake screamed as he and Jerry chased after the turncoat, who tossed himself through the window.

Reaching the shattered window, both men looked down to see Viper already climbing out of the dumpster positioned beneath them. They raised their weapons to fire, when the screeching of tires drew their attention towards the compound's front gate.

A heavily-armored black Humvee came speeding in, flanked by two dark blue Accolade FXT's, 4-door pick-up trucks that were favored by the Romanenko stooges.

"You losers got off lucky this time! We'll meet again!" Viper screamed at his former comrades as he rushed towards the Humvee. Before Jake or Jerry could target him, the Russian mobsters in all three vehicles stepped out, armed with AK-74s and other Russian-made firearms, opening fire upon the two men and buying the traitor enough time to escape.

Jake's anger had gotten the best of him and he could barely concentrate while firing, managing to take out a few of the lesser thugs, but his bullets tore apart the concrete around his fleeing enemy and bounced harmlessly off the bulletproofed vehicle he was climbing into.

A loud hiss sounded from below and he watched as a rocket flew towards the enemy vehicles, destroying one of the Accolades and swallowing several of the attackers in the following wave of flame, compliments of a rocket from the RPG-7 wielded by Cade O'Bannon.

The Humvee's exterior was scorched by the blast and the vehicle was nearly rocked from its wheels, but the driver managed to maintain control and speed off into the distance.

"VIPER!!!!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"We had a damn good job going with that bank heist, until someone we trusted stabbed us in the back and made off with the loot. He killed three good men, deceived another and killed him, and then left me for dead, valuing the almighty dollar over friendship._

_"A fitting nickname it turned out to be for him, Tyler Denton was nothing more than a snake in the grass._

_ "You were like a fucking brother to me Viper, and then you go off and pull this shit, and for what? You wanted a few more dollars than the guys? Wanted a fancier house than everybody else? Wanted more cars than us altogether? Wanting more whores than us? Trivial things compared to the power of brotherly bonds._

_ "A lot of people died because of your greed and I was stupid enough to let my guard down._

_ "I was determined to have my revenge by any means necessary, even if I had to rip apart the entire state of New York looking for your sorry ass._

_ "I wouldn't have to wait long though._

_ "Two days after the attack on the print shop, Jerry and Cade, along with their remaining brother Darryl roughed up some deli owner who was loyal to the Romanenkos and found their main base of operations to be in some exquisite nightclub called 'The Red Den,' as well as the nearby shipping yard, where they conducted the majority of their activities._

_ "Now that we had a location, all we had to do was strike those fuckers where it hurt. They had crossed the line and now it was time to end it. We gathered up all our available boys and prepared for one final showdown._

_ "I told the O'Bannon Brothers they could have anything they wanted, but that I wanted them to leave Viper alone because I wanted his punk ass all for myself._

_ "I wanted to make sure that bastard could never hurt anybody ever again and I wanted it to come from my hand, so he could know what comes around goes around._

_ "Come the time of the attack, we went all out on those Commie pricks and managed to take out everything they had to offer before we burnt the place to the ground. I would've loved to have stayed and pissed on the ashes, but I had a job to do, a snake needed to be defanged._

_ "I honestly have no idea how many of those boys I had to shoot my way through, but in the end I had both Viper and Rodislav Romanenko right where I wanted them._

_ "In the exact same way he turned on me, Viper shot Romanenko dead and tried to escape in the man's speedboat, wanting to keep all his money for himself._

_ "I had to make sure he didn't leave that place alive."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The nighttime air was rife with smoke and the coppery aroma of blood, the ground was littered with thousands of spent shell casings belonging to several different kinds of firearms, and everywhere in sight there were vehicles that had been either shot up and covered in the blood of their former occupants, or reduced to burnt out shells.

It was the aftermath of a massive battle and all the shot-up bodies littering the pavement were a testament to the carnage that had just ensued.

In the distance Jake could hear the gunfire of a three way gun battle still occurring between the surviving O'Bannon and Romanenko henchmen, with the N.Y.P.D. finding itself caught in the crossfire, helpless to calm the situation.

None of that mattered to the hitman as he had finally gotten what he had come for.

Before him Tyler "Viper" Denton struggled to maintain his balance after taking a bullet to his right knee, contorting his face into a hideous grimace as he struggled to hold back his cries of pain. In addition to the round he had taken to the knee, he had received several cuts and been grazed by more than one bullet.

Jake himself wasn't in much better shape. Covered from head to toe in filth, his outfit was heavily tattered and bloodied after sustaining several cuts and he had been coughing up blood after having his ribs stomped on repeatedly by his former friend, as well as most of the fingers on his left hand broken. He had been shot repeatedly in the chest, but was saved by his Kevlar vest; his upper left arm however had been mangled by two rounds from Viper's Beretta.

Both men had just engaged in a brutal hand-to-hand showdown that left both of them in their current battered states. Now they stared silently towards each other with a malicious hatred burning from within their darkened souls. The tension could suffocate anybody right now, but one thing was clear, one of these men would not be going home tonight.

"You couldn't just let it go and walk away, could you? You just had to hold a grudge," Viper spat, staring intently at him before he displayed his blood-stained teeth for the hired gun, "Then again, with the way you tore through everything back there, you displayed a kind of killer instinct I've never seen from you before, one you neutered with that little 'code of honor' you had. I hate to say it Jake, but for once you might've shown some shreds of manhood."

"Cut the crap with your talk about manhood!" Jake growled, struggling to not tackle the man down to the ground again. "You're no man Viper. You're nothing but a lowly parasite, a fucking parasite! Dedicated to nothing but earning another's trust and then stabbing them in the back when they least expect it, just like what you did to Romanenko!" he said motioning towards the remains of Rodislav Romanenko, a bullet fired through the back of the crime boss' head.

"You were my friend Viper…no you were more. You were a brother to me man, a fucking brother! You became my family when I was forced to flee my town. You were always there to watch my back and I trusted you with everything…everything!"

Jake furrowed his brow as he stared into the man's taunting eyes, "You had to change everything. You had to get fucking greedy, kill our closest friends, betray the organization that watched your ass at every turn, and leave me for dead. You're right; things are different now, only this time I'm going to accomplish what you failed to…"

The assassin's voice lowered into a demonic timbre, "Viper…I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Viper laughed stridently at his enemy's bold declaration, "You really think killing me is going to solve anything? Even if I die, you're already a dead man walking Jake Cavanaugh! If the pigs don't waste your sorry ass, then you're going to have all of Romanenko's relatives hounding you at every turn! They won't know that it was me that shot him. Face it…you're fucking dead Jake Cavanaugh…dead!!!"

Ignoring the man's threats, Jake slapped a fresh speed loader into his .44 revolver and fired another round into Viper's already injured kneecap, obliterating the bone into nothing and reducing his leg to bloody shreds. The former friend howled in pain, but it wasn't over.

Squeezing the trigger again, Jake fired a round through his betrayer's left arm, obliterating the bones and leaving its lower half held together by the tendons. Another three shots tore through the nighttime air, knocking Viper back with every shot, until it was time for the final round.

"See you in Hell!" Jake shouted and fired his gun one last time, a round punching through Viper's face and sending him staggering backwards over the cliff's edge.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_"A lot of people died because of one man's greed. I never knew it could be such a destructive force until I met Tyler Denton._

_ "In the end, a lot was accomplished. The Romanenkos were forced out of New York, the O'Bannons managed to rebuild their businesses, I rescued a woman Viper had kidnapped name Nadia and managed to get her back to her family, and other people were able to go on with their lives, myself being one of them._

_ "With Viper's death, a part of me felt like I had accomplished something. I rid the world of a two-faced asshole and saved anybody else who could have fallen to his bullshit, and in the process avenged those who had suffered because of him._

_ "Still there was another part of me that questioned if killing him had really accomplished much for me at all?_

_ "There was still that feeling of bitter emptiness, felt even long after he was gone. Why do I still feel like this? Every time I look at the scar above my collarbone, I still feel the pain of what he did to me, his ultimate betrayal. It's a crippling sensation, as if he's haunting me from beyond his watery grave. I don't know what to think, but sometimes I almost swear as if something was left undone…like no matter what I do to erase his memory, he's always one step behind me._

_ "On my upper left arm, I used to have a tattoo of a viper, my tribute to my best friend. After that incident was over, I had to get something different, and something to cover up the physical scars he left me with._

_ "The night before our raid, I had a dream of that traitorous bastard being eaten alive by a large cracked skull that had this weird bluish tint and blood red eyes, emitting fire every time it opened its mouth. It literally ate him alive, as if it was Death itself coming to claim him._

_ "It was the perfect for covering up the old viper, a symbol of my victory._

_ "Sometimes though, I have to question if what happened on that night really was a 'victory' and if I was only getting that skull tattoo because I needed something to cover up that bad reminder as quickly as I could._

_ "I don't know, could it be that there are plenty of other people like Viper in this bullshit world, or could something have been left unaccomplished, something I need to do before I can finally be left alone?"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: There you have it folks, the latest installment has come and gone!

For any hardcore video game buffs, you probably noticed a few subtle references to other video games, mostly through Grand Theft Auto, Saints Row and Metal Gear Solid, especially because I've been playing "Episodes from Liberty City" quite a bit lately.

The character Melvin Edwards was inspired by Eddie Low, a FUCKED UP guy Niko Bellic encounters on the streets in GTA4, who is later found out to be the serial killer whom police are unable to think up a name for. Needless to say, Niko kills him and brings his reign of terror to an end.

In a way, the bank robbery sequence was inspired by the "Three Leaf Clover" mission in GTA4 where Niko robs the Bank of Liberty along with the McReary Brothers, Packie and Derrick, along with their associate St. Michael.

Rodislav Romanenko is a mixture of video game character names too, Rodislav Bulgarin, the main antagonist in "The Ballad of Gay Tony" and Nastasha Romanenko, the weapons specialist who helps Solid Snake out in MGS1.

Lastly, the part where I talk about Jake using a supposed "self-inflicted injury" to get himself into the prison infirmary and engineer his escape from there is inspired by the opening of Saints Row 2.

Well I thank anybody who has stuck with my long-winded weirdo ass for this long and until then, read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	21. Ch 20: Terror Closes In

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Just when you thought it was safe to browse the hallowed virtual grounds of , the Metal Harbinger returns with another not-so-happy installment of "Darkness Arises: Reborn!" Be prepared to read and review! Now on with the story!!!

Chapter 20: Terror Closes In

The crashing of wood against wood startled the library's occupants from their slumber and sent the tense officers scrambling for their weapons.

Jake had been sound asleep on his cot when the double doors leading to the station's main hall flew open. A second later, he was tossing his pillow aside, reaching for the magnum revolver he had hidden underneath. From the corner of his eye, he could see David, Kyle and that lanky, glasses-wearing rookie from the east office standing tall with their weapons drawn.

Much to the relief of everybody, it was only one of the officers. He had been running for quite some time, as evidenced by his visible lack of breath and the sweat covering every inch of his exposed skin. He bent over and the H&K VP-70 fell from his hand, as well as a few black feathers, suggesting he may have just been attacked by some of those infected crows.

He finally stopped when he realized everybody in the room had been staring at him. Embarrassed at the amount of attention he had drawn upon himself; he muttered a brief apology and made his way towards David and the other officers.

"Fred, what's going on?" David asked as his colleague made frantic strides towards him.

There was no reply from this Fred fellow, but his body language told them things weren't going well.

Not wanting to further startle the citizens present, David motioned towards his fellow officers and they made their way over to their exhausted colleague, huddling around like a group of football players contemplating their strategy before a big play.

The officers spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones, while the other occupants stared nervously towards the group. Jake could sense the agitation weighing down upon their battered minds and took it upon himself to watch over the others, ready to act if one of them suddenly lashed out.

"Oh this is just great!" one of the S.W.A.T. officers, an African-American with a Benelli shotgun, blurted out loudly enough for everybody to jump.

"Damn it Dauss, will you keep it down!" David scolded him, forcefully pulling him closer into the huddle and resuming his whispered tone.

The wary civilians now began to mutter quietly amongst themselves, causing Jake to stare worriedly back and forth between both groups. Knowing how fearful and paranoid the people were slowly becoming, he kept his hand near the revolver, hoping he could deter the others from trying anything stupid.

"I hope they're planning something big for dealing with those things," he could hear Nick whisper to both Cassie and Samantha.

_"They had better plan something fast too," _the hired gun thought as he noticed some older, farmer-type man in bib overalls and a faded denim jacket. He clutched a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun in his callused hands, staring intently toward the group of officers.

The huddle slowly began to open as one of the S.W.A.T. officers, a salt and pepper-haired Caucasian, issued a few more quick orders to his gathered colleagues and then turned to address Kyle and the other rookie.

"I want both of you to stay here and help guard the civilians. You will have plenty of backup from Officers Silvers and Barnes, and I will see to it a few more are sent up to stand guard. Time to earn your stripes kids," the officer spoke, his nametag identifying him as "Fortay."

"Okay, let's move out!" one of the officers called out as the others began making their way towards the opened double doors.

Several panicked voices sounded amongst the civilians as the officers made their move, no longer able to hide the fact they were about to head outside to tackle yet another approaching threat.

"Oh god no!" a woman's voice screamed, one Jake found hauntingly familiar.

Looking towards the northwestern corner, he was surprised to find Donald Byrd there, along with his wife. The middle-aged woman clung obsessively to him, fighting him as he tried to reach for his shotgun and sobbing hysterically how he was all she had left after what happened to their last child.

Jake watched as David suddenly stopped what he was doing and popped back into the library, walking over and placing a hand on Donald's shoulder before saying some things to him. It was obvious the young S.W.A.T. officer was seeking some form of atonement after what had happened just hours earlier.

"Excuse me," a voice called out as the hitman felt a gloved hand upon his shoulder.

Turning around, he found Officer Fortay standing before him with Kyle and the other rookie flanking him from both sides. A fourth officer was scouring through the others present, apparently looking for anybody who was armed, including the shotgun-toting farmer, who angrily spat at the younger man and prompted the intervention of another young officer.

"Son, how well do you know how to use that thing?" he asked, motioning towards the MP5 resting near the cot Jake had been resting on.

"Better than you think," Jake said lifting it up and carefully inspecting it. "I've survived three days fighting from street to street against those 'things' out there, using this gun and a whole arsenal of others," he spoke motioning to the submachine gun with pride as he pulled back the hammer. "I'd say pretty damn well if you ask me, Officer."

"Alright, then I might have a job for you and anybody else who knows how to use a gun around here," Officer Fortay said as the other officers and some armed civilians began to fall in, among them the farmer, the biker known as Ace, the two armed youngsters Jake had noticed upon his arrival at the station, and a few others, all carrying an assortment of firearms.

_"How the officers allowed them to slip those guns inside I will never know," _Jake thought to himself as he eyed the sawed-off shotgun, knowing of its illegal status to authorities. _"Then again, they've got other things to worry about right now."_

_ "Fortay, we need you and the other S.P.F. guys out here right now!" _Marvin Branagh's voice crackled over the radio, but was soon drowned out afterward by the popping of firearms and distant moans of the undead.

The S.W.A.T. officer muttered a profanity before reaching for his shoulder-mounted radio, "Alright, I'll be out in a second!" he shouted before turning his attention towards another officer.

"Elliott, get over here. I need your help!" he said waving forth an auburn-haired officer, one of the men whom Jake recognized as having interacted with David out in the main hall shortly after their arrival.

"What's up?" he asked as he approached the S.W.A.T. officer.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Officer Elliott Edward. I am appointing him to oversee your duties," Fortay explained, "As of now; I am deputizing all of you to patrol our station. You are to act as the last line of defense should something happen to the rest of us."

"What the hell, man?" asked the gruff younger man in the denim vest, "You seriously expect us to continue fighting after those green lizard things attacked us outside? Your boys and your high-powered weapons were barely able to hold those things off!"

"Yeah, we ain't exactly 'protector types' y'know," the farmer added, "We don't exactly know much about fighting those freaks like you're supposed to."

"Well you must know something if you're able to carry around one of those," Ace said, referring to the man's sawed-off shotgun.

"Hey, settle down you two!" Fortay shouted raising his hands defensively, "I know you've both been thrust into an uncomfortable situation, but right now you don't have much choice. We need all the help we can get if we want to survive."

The officer had a good point, Jake thought to himself.

The hired gun considered himself a hero by no means, let alone a protector of the innocent, but right now he didn't have much of a choice. It was kill or be killed, as it had been in many previous situations during his young, yet turbulent life. For now, he actually needed these people around as they boosted his chances for survival in completing his mission. Until then, he would find himself forced back into his role of being the "reluctant protector" until things died down and he could make his escape.

Officer Fortay disappeared through the doors leading to the main hall mezzanine, while Officer Edward assumed his leadership role.

"Alright, is this all of you?" he asked scanning the crowd of armed volunteers, "We need to get you into position right away."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The cloudy skies and pillars of smoke outside made it hard to estimate how many there were in this group, but the hitman estimated there had to be more than fifty.

Jake watched from the second story window as a wave of undead citizens shambled drunkenly towards the barricaded police department in search of fresh meat.

As with the many waves of zombies encountered over the past few days, they all came in a variety of shapes, sizes and age brackets, and clad in all manners of clothing. In the end, their similarities still outweighed their differences. Every one of them had pale flesh hanging loosely from their faces and arms, revealing the slimy muscle underneath. All of them had the same white, soulless eyes devoid of emotion that could instill terror even within the bravest officer. Most importantly, they all shared the same mindless bloodlust and only cared about satisfying the insatiable hunger that drove them.

A majority of the remaining officers were outside and took defensive positions at the crudely erected barricades outside the front gate, while a few armed with assault and sniper rifles climbed onto small scaffolds propped against the outer cement wall. Others had taken defensive positions on the ground; a few huddled around the front entrance with shotguns, while others stood off to the sides with submachine guns and assault rifles.

Again, the poor lighting made it difficult for the hitman to judge how close the zombies had gotten when he noticed the snipers positioned along the wall begin to open fire. Unknown to him, there had been snipers positioned in other buildings surrounding the R.P.D., as evidenced by the flashing of additional muzzles.

Several of the zombies towards the front of the group jerked as they were struck by the rounds, a few of them falling over thanks to lethal headshots. Still, they pressed forth methodically.

Sensing the urgency of the matter, Jake watched as one of the S.W.A.T. officers raised a megaphone and barked an order that resounded with everybody else:

_"Everybody, fire at will!"_

A series of thunderous explosions followed as the officers positioned at the barricade began firing upon the approaching zombies. Following the bursts of shotgun and rifle fire came a series of larger explosions, ones created by an officer wielding a grenade launcher, sending infected body parts flying all over the place.

"Goddamn it, they're not doing enough! Those things are going to overrun us!" a voice called out from his left.

Looking down towards the end, Jake noticed the farmer, a man who had identified himself as Ervin, staring anxiously out the window at the corner junction.

Jake, along with Ervin and a few other armed civilians, had been positioned in a dull, gray-colored hallway that was separated from the library by only a tiny lounge, also containing the office of the oft-mentioned S.T.A.R.S. unit, which was currently locked at the moment. Several windows lined the eastern wall, giving them a perfect view of the front entrance and the adjoining courtyard, where they watched as the officers battled the oncoming monsters.

"Face it, we're all fucking screwed!" whined a long-haired younger man in a green windbreaker and torn blue jeans, a Browning HP held in his quivering hands.

"We're gonna be fucking screwed the more you keep up your whining B.S.!" Ace shouted back.

"Settle down you two!" Officer Edward replied as he made his way into the hall, keeping his Remington shotgun carefully raised as he noticed the battle occurring outside. The concern was easily read in both his tone and body language, knowing for sure he would probably end up losing more comrades to the madness around him.

Jake nearly raised his MP5 as he noticed another man suddenly appear behind the officer, one who looked like a zombie in his bloodied police uniform. He backed down when he saw the pain in the man's bloodshot blue eyes.

_"Another one of those guys David was talking to right after we got here," _he told himself as he noticed the filth still covering the man's exposed skin and the caked substances that still matted the man's red hair after all these hours, almost as if he no longer cared by this point. Several bandages covered the man's arms, leaving a cause for concern, not just for Jake, but for several other defenders as well.

The battered officer took notice of their worried stares and grunted loudly, brandishing his Mossberg shotgun in hopes of deterring any actions being taken against him.

Through all of the blood and grime, Jake managed to pick out the name "Ford" on his uniform and sticking out of the man's left pocket, he noticed a poorly-concealed alcohol flask.

"Uh David…maybe you should go downstairs and see if they need any help," Officer Edward said, noticing the tense situation developing.

Nothing was said immediately between either party as Officer Ford looked back and forth between the civilians and his colleague. His gaze seemed haunted and faraway, yet at the same time an aware anger crept in, showing his sanity wasn't down for the count just yet.

"Those things didn't bite me…" he muttered, "…not like what they did to Meyer…"

"Uh yeah…" Edward said rushing over and taking his colleague by the shoulder, "…you'd better get going now. I'm sure there's plenty you can still do for the others."

"Whatever," Officer Ford grunted before disappearing through the door which he came.

As soon as the bloodstained man disappeared from sight, Jake approached Officer Edward.

"You really think you should be allowing that man to be walking around like that, especially when he's got that Mossberg in hand? I don't know if you noticed or not, but I saw a flask in that man's pocket. Wouldn't be surprised if it was whiskey," he spoke.

"He hasn't been the same since his friend Meyer got torn apart by those things. He feels guilty because the guy came back to save him, but when the time came to return the favor, he ran," Edward explained as he wiped some fresh sweat from his forehead. "I wouldn't be surprised if there were others around here doing the same thing to help calm their nerves. Heck, if I had a lighter with me, I'd probably be smoking again."

Jake grimaced at the comment, remembering his hatred of cigarette smoke.

"Not like we can send the poor guy home anyway. We need all the people here we can get after 'Fatass' Irons decided to lock himself away on us," the officer finished.

"Holy shit, they're breaking through! They're fucking breaking through!" called out the man in the windbreaker as he motioned wildly toward the nearest window.

Jake, Officer Edward and the others gathered near the windows to see the spectacle occurring outside.

The officers who had previously been positioned near the outer fortifications had been pushed back and were trying to climb over a hastily-erected fence. Most of the officers had managed to make it over, but there were still two S.W.A.T. officers stopping to fire what remained of their ammo before attempting to climb the fence.

Unfortunately, the fence was on the verge of collapse and one of the officers had fallen back into the crowd of living dead, quickly disappearing into the mass of rotting flesh like it was quicksand. The second officer was barely clinging to a piece of splintered wood, held only by the determined colleagues who were using everything they could to keep the man from becoming the latest casualty.

Gasping in horror, Officer Edward switched on his radio to see if he could determine who was still alive out there.

_"…those things just fucking killed Dauss!" _a frantic voice screamed over the radio, _"They just fucking ate him alive!"_

_ "Hang in there guys, we're sending people to help. Just do what you can to keep Fortay away from those freaks!" _another voice called out, Jake raising an eyebrow as he recognized Fortay's name as that of the officer who had rounded up the ragtag group he currently patrolled the hall with.

_"Dallas, McGraw, Vasquez, anybody…help me damn it!" _a frantic voice shouted as another man's screams resounded in the background, the louder volume of moans suggesting this may have been one of the officer's struggling to save Officer Fortay's life.

_"C'mon Schwartz, hurry your monkey ass up!" _a man's voice barked, followed by the repeated blasts of a shotgun.

_"I'm trying!" _a youthful voice replied.

_"Beck, Green, forget about me! Just get Fortay to safety! He's hurt pretty bad! Just…AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!" _another man cried before he was attacked by an unseen predator.

_"Shit, we're getting attacked from above over here! It's more of those goddamned crows!" _another man shouted, numerous caws heard in the background.

Jake looked over to an apartment building across the street from the station, where he noticed two riot officers flailing their arms wildly above their heads, trying to swat away a murder of crows swooping down from above them.

Eventually, it became too much for Officer Edward and he switched off his radio, much to the relief of some of those standing guard.

Still, many of them remained transfixed by the grim display outside as the remaining officers fought to hold off the remaining zombies. Despite the apprehension the others felt, Jake began to see a small glimmer of hope, noting that the wave was beginning to die down as more and more monsters collapsed to the blood-soaked pavement.

The others didn't share his cautious optimism.

"Well it's official, we're now fucking screwed!" the windbreaker-wearing man shouted, "Sign our death warrants 'cause we're all going to die!"

"Pal, you need to calm the fuck down!" Ace boomed, readying his Remington shotgun for a possible confrontation.

"How can you calm the fuck down when you're about to fucking die?" the hysterical man shouted.

"Sir please, you're going to need to settle down," Officer Edward said, injecting himself into the conversation, only to have a gun pointed at him for his troubles.

"You stay the fuck back piggy! You and your fat, worthless fuck of a police chief have failed us all!" the man screamed.

The door suddenly opened behind the man and a blonde-haired woman in an officer's uniform stepped into view.

"What's going on out here? I heard all the screaming and-" the lady officer spoke, only to have the man whirl around and point his gun at her.

The woman's entrance provided a critical opening for the others. They swarmed the frightened man, tackling him to the floor and quickly kicking his weapon away from his grasp.

"Diane, step back and let us handle this!" Officer Edward shouted as Ace and Ervin both held the man down, while he reached for his handcuffs and slapped one of the links around the pinned man's wrist.

"Get off me you bastard!" the man screamed as the officer and his two companions helped him back to his feet and forced him onto a nearby bench, where Officer Edward clamped the other link around the railing sticking out of the wall.

"You assholes can't do this to me! I'll fucking sue all of you!" the man continued to scream, only to receive a gloved fist to the face compliments of Ace.

"Shut the fuck up or else you'll be needing to talk to more than just a lawyer, pipsqueak!" the biker hollered back, looking to inflict further damage until he was restrained by Officer Edward and the approaching lady officer.

"Sir, you need to settle down or else we'll be hauling your ass down to the cellblock!" the cop shouted.

"Okay fine, fine I'm backing down!" Ace replied, backing away with his hands raised defensively. "Just do your job of keeping that asshole away from me or else I'll give him a reason to scream."

Jake ignored the fracas as he noticed a man standing in the corner who had been shoved aside as the others made their move to subdue the belligerent citizen.

He was a younger man in his late twenties or early thirties with semi-long blond hair he had worn slicked back and dressed in a black coat with red and white stripes and blue jeans, holding what appeared to be a Glock 22 pistol in his right hand. When he believed nobody else was looking, he reached down for something and as soon as Ervin moved out of the way he saw what it was.

Lying on the wooden floor was a red and black ID card bearing the logo of Umbrella, Inc., similar to what he had been sent in that envelope.

_"So he must work for Umbrella too," _Jake thought as he stared at the man with interest, _"Wonder if he knows Birkin."_

Before the hitman could approach the nameless man, he was stopped by Officer Edward.

"Look, we're gonna have to figure out what to do with our 'friend' here and until then, I think maybe you should see if they need any help in the adjoining halls. More of those things could be coming at any time."

A rumble of thunder echoed from outside, followed by a flash of lightning and the patter of rain.

Looking outside, Jake watched as several officers remained in the courtyard battling the remaining zombies. They had successfully managed to lock the front gate and by now, most of the rifle-wielding officers positioned along the outer wall took their time picking off the stragglers.

"Alright…I'll see what I can do," the hired gun replied as he stared back towards the Umbrella employee, who took a protective position where the cuffed man once stood.

_"You'd better stay put pal. I'm going to have a talk with that guy the next time I see him," _Jake thought as he exited through the nearest door.

Stepping into the adjoining hallway, he was met by a bizarre-looking statue of some ancient god holding a masterfully crafted red jewel in its raised hand, flanked by two lesser busts on each side.

"Damn…" was all he could mutter, _"This belongs in an art museum, not a police station. It's comforting to know I don't have to be one of the flatfoots working here to know Irons is a few pages short of a novel."_

Jake noticed a few more armed individuals standing towards the end of the hall and walked over to see who was present.

Two civilians armed with hunting rifles stood atop the second floor entrance, while two officers armed with submachine guns, one an overweight, bald man, and the second a taller, lanky blond-haired man, guarded the landing halfway between the first and second floors. Another officer armed with a shotgun and a civilian armed with a magnum revolver guarded the very bottom of the stairs. Aside from them, a few armed civilians paced back and forth acting as moving sentries.

All of the defenders stood tensely with itchy trigger fingers, shaking uncontrollably as they listened to the sounds of battle still raging outside. Granted Jake himself felt the tension in the air, but remained a little more hopeful after seeing the amount of zombies falling left and right.

_"Can't rest easy just yet, tough guy," _he told himself, knowing how things often had a habit of going to shit whenever he declared victory prematurely.

A sign overhead indicated to his immediate left was the station's darkroom and around the corner were the entrances to the evidence room and one of the west wing corridors.

The hitman took the time to assess the strategic highs and lows, noting the narrow hallway could prove to be murderous if he was cornered, but if he could remain in the open area he would be fine. The stairs would provide him with ample space for sniping oncoming targets beneath him, as well as make it more difficult for the zombies to reach him, given their lack of coordination.

"_Those tongue creatures, Hunters and dogs would be another story though," _he thought as he surveyed the nearby windows and then shifted his thoughts to the others standing guard, knowing most of them would likely die before the day was over. _"I hate to say it, but it's the truth," _he told himself, studying their current jittery dispositions.

The west wing door came flying open, crashing loudly against the wall and forcing everybody to draw their weapons.

A collective sigh of relief was breathed as a surviving officer came charging through.

"Quick, get them to the evidence room!" he shouted to some colleagues behind him, who came dragging another man in an officer's uniform underneath his arms through the door, his long bangs obscuring his face. A trail followed the man as he was pulled forth, and even more dripped onto his colleagues, which then found its way to the floor, followed by bloody foot and handprints as they led him down the hall.

"Take it easy with him!" another voice called out from the hall, one Jake recognized from shortly after he had gotten here.

Ian Dieter came through lugging a salt and pepper-haired man in S.W.A.T. gear over his shoulder, blood gushing from a fresh wound in the man's left calf. Once the man's name was spoken, he knew who it was right away.

"Hang in there Fortay, you're not going down without a fight," Dieter spoke as a woman in nurse's scrubs appeared to relieve him of his burden. Another nurse was behind the woman carrying a cooler, which likely carried blood packs.

"He's lost a lot of blood, we have to get these units administered quickly," the second nurse spoke as she chased after her colleague, bracing herself against the wall to avoid slipping on the fresh puddles left behind. "Somebody get Dr. Peltz or Dr. Radant, whosever available, and hurry!"

An officer nodded quickly, waiting for one of his colleagues to drag a wounded man in a bloodied yellow dress shirt through the opened door before he disappeared from sight.

"Dieter, how's it looking out there?" the lanky officer asked, "We heard all that gunfire out there…and then you bringing them in like that…is it over?"

The officer sighed heavily, "We think we might've managed to hold back this wave, but a few people got hurt…and a few more got killed. It's not looking good. We don't know if we're going to be able to withstand another onslaught like that."

Jake stood quietly as the guards murmured quietly amongst themselves. He took it upon himself to ask what he believed to be an important question.

"Officer Dieter, what about those people you just took into the evidence room? Aren't you worried about them? They've all been bitten haven't they?" the hired gun asked, staring at the blood trails leading to the aforementioned room.

"Yeah, some of those things broke through and got to them…why do you ask?" he spoke, narrowing his eyes with the last part.

"Shouldn't you be dealing with them as soon as possible? If they've been bitten, that means they're going to turn into a zombie," Jake spoke, listening to the frightened gasps of some of the others, while a few scoffed in disbelief.

Ian Dieter glared harshly towards the black-clad man, briefly taking his eyes away to stare at the other guards and their worried expressions.

"I hate to tell you how to do your job, Officer, but do you really think you should be keeping them this close to the other citizens? Once they turn, they're going to be attacking everything in sight," Jake explained.

"Oh shit, is that true?" the lanky officer in the background asked, his face paling at the thought of zombies inside the station.

"It is," Jake replied in his typical direct fashion, "I've seen people who have been bitten transform with my own two eyes."

"Okay, okay I think they've heard enough!" Officer Dieter shouted before grabbing Jake by the shoulder and pulling him close.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, "Are you trying to work these people into a frenzy? We've already got enough problems from those freaks outside and we don't need you starting bullshit in here either!"

"You can't just keep those people locked up in here like that," Jake protested, staring uneasily towards the evidence room's door and all the blood in the hallway. "It's too risky to keep them around like this. You're sitting on a ticking time bomb!"

"Well how do you know everybody is going to become like that?" Ian asked in uncertainty, "What if only a select few become like that when exposed to those freaks? Hell, how can we be certain it's only those 'zombies' spreading whatever's causing everything to go to shit around here?"

"I don't know to tell you the truth, but I don't like it. You're only asking for trouble by keeping them this close to everybody else," Jake said standing his ground.

"Well if it's this much of a concern, then you are free to leave at any given time Mr. Smith," Officer Dieter replied crossing his arms, "We're not just going to let the people out on the streets and to the mercy of those freaks. We can't just go around on some witch hunt either, we have to do whatever we can for those people as long as they live."

A loud crash came from the upstairs hallway and the two civilians positioned at the top turned to see what it was. Whatever it was frightened both of them and left them raising their rifles.

"What the fuck is that thing?" cried the first man, a burly fellow in a forest green sweatshirt and beanie cap.

"Just kill it!" shouted the other, clad in hunter's apparel.

Hearing the clicking of tiles along the wall's surface, Jake didn't need to be told what was there and raised his MP5, hearing the monster's haunting, ragged gasp before the two civilians opened fire.

An elongated tongue shot out from an unseen attacker, impaling the hunter through the chest like a lance, allowing the man to convulse violently before pulling out its personal weapon and focused on its next target.

The other man tried to fire, but without missing a beat, the tongue moved like it had a mind of its own and wrapped around the man's ankle, dragging him along as he screamed the entire way back, the scratching of his fingernails along the wooden floor rattling the hitman's nerves.

"What's going on?" the nameless overweight cop whined as he looked towards the stairs, unable to see the rest of the corridor from his current vantage point.

Jake however, knew what was going on and sprung to life, bolting up the stairs past the guarding officers with his submachine gun drawn.

"Hey, wait up!" Officer Dieter called out, chasing after him with his own gun drawn.

Unfortunately, both men were too late.

Making his way to the upstairs corridor, Jake found another one of those skinless creatures, having already pulled the remaining guard up close and hacking into the man's back, tearing out his internal organs like the stuffing from a pillow.

"What the hell is that?" Dieter blurted out, raising his H&K VP-70 and preparing to fire.

Using its ultra-sensitive hearing, the monster had heard all the voices come from downstairs, hissing in anticipation of additional morsels. However, it had been halted by the sound of quick moving footsteps approaching it, followed by the cocking of weapons it was unable to see. Feeling threatened, the creature again hissed and leapt into the air with its claws extended.

"Shit!" Jake cried out as he tried to raise his gun, but the red-skinned demon had come flying towards him at a near superhuman speed. All he could do was hit the deck as a wet slash followed.

Officer Dieter hadn't been as lucky, finding himself slashed across the midsection by the monster's claws.

"Ian!!!"

Some of the other guards had finally spotted the creature and stood silent in shock. For everybody else, this appeared to be their very first encounter with such a beast, all of them rooted to wherever they stood.

Rolling over onto his back, Jake raised the MP5 and fired a burst at the sinewy creature. The monster could hear him rolling over and sense him raising his gun, leaping into the air just as he squeezed the trigger.

"Fucking shoot it!" he cried, rising to his feet and firing another burst towards the monster.

The monster's superhuman speed and agility once again played in its favor as it leapt onto a nearby wall to avoid more of the bullets fired in its direction, and then gracefully spun its entire body along the wall, somehow managing to remain attached as it moved. It was unlike anything they had seen before.

Scaling the wall, the creature looked as if it were about to pounce upon the overweight officer, saliva dripping onto the man's forehead and shoulders. A wet spot appeared around the man's crotch and sweat from his forehead mixed with the gooey dribble covering him.

Jake again opened fire and caught the beast with a round to its side before his clip ran dry.

The monster's shrieks of pain finally snapped the others out of their collective trance and they opened fire, bullet casings covering the tile floor and smoke filling the air as they fired like crazy. Dirt and plaster rained down from the ceiling, dotting the walls with fresh bullet holes, shattering vases that had been set up for decorative purposes and ripping through some boxes that had been placed directly across from the darkroom's entrance.

Somehow, the creature was able to comprehend that it was outnumbered and propelled itself through a nearby window. A shotgun blast came from behind and grazed its hind leg just as it vanished.

"What the hell…" Jake panted as he reclined against the second floor railing, _"Are these things able to learn new tricks over time?" _he asked himself, recalling how this beast in particular had been twice as difficult as the other tongue creatures he had encountered before.

"What's going on here? We heard all the gunfire and-" Officer Elliott Edward cried out, rushing into the hall followed by a few more officers, only to stop when he noticed the three skewered bodies littering the floor, "My god…"

"Some new freak decided to drop in on us," David Ford reported, the smoking barrel of his Mossberg identifying him as the officer who had fired the final blast. The darkroom door was open behind him, a sign he must have been in there up until the monster's attack.

"Son of a bitch…" Elliott muttered as he looked back down to the remains of the two civilian guards and his colleague Ian Dieter. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked back to some of the officers who had come along with him, "Get some guys up here. We've gotta clean this up."

One of the nurses suddenly appeared from the evidence room; Susan was her name according to her nametag.

"Hey, we heard all the gunfire out here, is everything alright?" she asked, trying to make her way up the stairs, only to be halted by Officer Edward.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing that can be done right now," he said, doing whatever he could to shield her eyes from the horrific sight that would have greeted her. "Trust me, just get back in there and treat the people who still need you."

Jake stood quietly as he observed the other people around him trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"What the hell was that thing?" asked the lanky officer, his nametag identifying him as "Jameson."

"It was some thing with a long freaking tongue," replied his overweight colleague, "Otis" his nametag read.

"So what do we call the thing then?" Jameson asked.

"Aside from 'butt fucking ugly,' I'd say something that suits it…maybe 'Licker' or something like that," Jake added as he observed the impressions left in the walls by the monster's claws.

"Heh, I wouldn't doubt that at all," Otis spoke, "a long tongue like that, almost seems fitting if you ask me."

The hired gun looked back to the opened darkroom, where David Ford sat reclining against the nearby wall with a notepad in hand, as if he were writing up a police report from some routine call.

"_The ways some people will cope," _Jake told himself as some other officers began showing up, cordoning off the upstairs corridor so they could remove the bodies.

Officer Edward approached him and another civilian who had been standing guard, "Listen, I don't think this is something either one of you should be viewing. We don't want to risk further endangering anyone until things die down. Until then, I think it would be best for you to get back to the library. You might wanna get something to eat too. I don't know where they'll be setting up provisions with our cafeteria being turned into a 'makeshift infirmary,' so you might have to do some hunting."

"Alright," Jake muttered back, watching as some officers arrived with sheets to gather the bodies. He then looked back over to Officer Ford, who was still jotting down a few notes. It was a sight that really put him off, a man acting as if this were business as usual for him. _"Poor bastard must be pretty tanked by now. I'd have to be to act like this was just another day on the job."_

Walking away from the officer, the hired gun made his way over to the door where the wounded had been dragged in from and made his way through.

The narrow hallway he stepped into literally looked like a tornado had blown through with all the broken glass, splintered boards and other miscellaneous debris covering the tiled floor. Splotches of blood covered the floor and surrounding walls, leftover traces from the wounded that had recently passed through. Loud pounding indicated the occupants were too busy with other tasks to bother cleaning up the blood.

Rounding the corner, he found numerous officers and civilians armed with hammers and nail guns, nailing boards, broken doors, dismantled tables and anything else they could find, doing whatever they could to barricade the shattered windows.

Whenever he saw the people attempting to erect crude barriers such as those, he found himself thinking back to the other barricades that he had seen erected around the city and wondered how long it would last.

"_Those things are relentless," _he reminded himself as he stepped around a man in a construction worker's uniform who had knelt down to gather an armful of plywood, _"All those layers they set up outside were barely able to hold back that most recent attack."_

Jake eventually passed a set of double doors that had been left wide open and letting his curiosity get the better of him, peered inside.

Seeing the uneven rows of desks, podium at the front of the room and the chalkboard behind it told him he was looking into the station's briefing room. A few officers had gathered, some sitting in the desks, while others just stood around. Out of all the faces, he only recognized those of Sgt. Neil Carlsen and Aaron Groening, one of the men he had seen Kevin chatting with after they detonated the explosives on Main Street, the former going through some files, while the latter was involved in a tense discussion with a short, stocky man in a dark blue uniform and matching cap.

It wasn't until an officer near the front podium cleared his throat that Jake was finally snapped back to reality, looking down and seeing he had almost entered the room.

"I'm sorry sir, but this is a restricted area," an older cop with thinning white hair and a bushy mustache said as he stepped into view and grabbed the doors, pulling them shut and muffling any voices that followed.

Again, it was unnerving to the hitman. Three people had just been murdered by a "Licker" creature in the next room over. No doubt they had been able to hear the shots and dying cries, and yet they remained focused on the tasks at hand like it had never happened. It was like they were completely ignorant of the terror closing in.

"_Then again, maybe they could be fully aware, but are either just in denial or acting like nothing happened for the sake of maintaining the morale and keeping everybody from shooting at one another," _he thought to himself, noting it was a small miracle they had made it this far without descending into anarchy within the station.

He also had to remind himself that maybe they could be enacting countermeasures already, doing whatever they can to combat the beasts and get the people to safety whenever possible. Hopefully, the recent encounter with the Licker would motivate them to speed things up.

Speaking of speeding things up, he remembered another task he had yet to complete.

"_Terror is closing in," _Jake repeated to himself, looking down to his guns and knowing he had to be ready when it finally broke through. _"I have to find out what that Umbrella guy knows and then get the hell out of here."_

Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment of "Reborn" and to answer an inquiry of Crow T R0bot, that overweight officer mentioned is indeed a subtle reference to Otis from the Half-Life series, intended to be one that isn't too over the top humorous.

This chapter is inspired by the "A Grim Day Ahead" chapter from the original DA and when I thought more and more about it, I figured it would be highly unlikely for a police force to allow civilians onto a defensive frontline, since the defense of civilians would be a top priority and everything. At the same time though, I'd imagine the police would deputize civilians who did know a thing or two about weapons and self-defense, without putting them directly on the aforementioned frontline that is.

Well as you can see, the inhabitants of the R.P.D. are inching closer and closer to mutiny…tune in for the next installment to see what happens next. Oh, and also be sure to read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	22. Ch 21: Innocence of a Child

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And so I return after another brief hiatus, mostly the result of my hunt for a job in a shitty economy, which is, for a lack of a better cliché, like trying to find a needle in a haystack, as I'm sure it probably is for a lot of other people, and some people on this site as well.

Nonetheless, let's end my "real world" rambling and now on with the story!

Chapter 21: Innocence of a Child

It had been a few hours since the surviving R.P.D. officers had managed to hold off the most recent wave of zombies, yet it did nothing to boost their morale. Tensions were still running high following the small victory and with the officers left exhausted following the attack, coupled with the ammo they had used up, left them wondering if they would be able to survive another.

Jake walked through the west wing corridor where the Licker had made its appearance. He had just finished a small meal after locating the station's food rations, which had been moved to a second floor storage room to keep survivors from being exposed to the volatile situation in the cafeteria.

Having gotten his meal, he resumed his mission to find that nameless Umbrella employee he hoped could possibly give him some answers.

Officers and civilians in the corridor still stood around nervously, yet he noticed some progress had been made with the shattered window being boarded shut and the blood of the mutilated corpses having been cleaned up.

_"Not going to be squeaky clean much longer if more of those Lickers show up," _he thought as he nodded to a passing cop and made his way through the second floor hallway, past the war god statue and staring curiously at it. He still couldn't get over its placement in a police station of all places.

Passing through the opened door into the dull gray hallway, he again eyed the S.T.A.R.S. office curiously as he passed by, but then remembered the view he was offered to the courtyard below.

Officers still milled about in the open space below, all weary and covered from head to toe in filth, yet still very much alive and appearing committed to carrying out their assigned tasks.

_"For how much longer?" _he asked himself as he passed that Ervin guy from earlier, who clamped down on his sawed-off like he himself was expecting one of those Lickers to come bursting through at any given time. As he rounded the corner, he saw that they had finally removed the ranting man who had been cuffed to the railing just before he had left for the adjoining hall. What had become of the man he could only speculate as he made his way into the lounge.

A few tired officers relaxed in the lounge, a few sipping sodas and snacking on small meals, while the others chatted quietly amongst themselves. In the darkened hallway nearby he saw another officer reclining against the boarded up door, sobbing quietly to himself. It was a sight that made him think of the unstable Officer Ford and hope that the man hadn't snapped to the point of going on a shooting spree.

Nodding to the officer standing guard, the hitman made his way into the library.

The atmosphere was still the same as it had been when Jake was deputized to stand guard duty, quiet and sullen. Many of those present were agitated after learning that more zombies had been closing in, as if they could sense what the hitman felt, taking little comfort in the fact that the most recent horde had been vanquished.

In the same corner he had spotted them in earlier, he saw Donald still holding his wife closely while trying to assure her everything was going to be alright. Samantha, Denise, Nick, Cassie and Jason all sat around them, soon joined by Kyle and the glasses-wearing rookie he noticed after David had been forced to kill Elijah Byrd, whom he heard his colleagues address as "D.J."

Seated in another corner, he spotted the same balding, middle-aged man in the stained business suit, whom he had learned from some of the officers, was Michael Warren, mayor of Raccoon City. Hanging onto his arm was an attractive young woman in a white party dress, the man's daughter Beverly. At the moment, he was chatting with a completely bald officer who wore an outfit similar to Kevin's.

At the base of the catwalk stairs, Jake had found whom he came to see. The nameless Umbrella employee sat on an empty weapons crate sipping from a cup of hot cocoa, involved in a group discussion. Sitting with him were the biker called Ace, the grungy young man in the punk-inspired jacket, the woman in the red and white bodysuit, and two more men he hadn't seen before.

For now, he would join in on the conversation, hoping to work his way over to the Umbrella worker and gain the man's trust. Once that small task was accomplished, he hoped he could possibly dig up some information on William Birkin.

"I have no idea how all this B.S. started either. All I know is that I was over at the Burger Kong enjoying my meal when one of the workers started tripping out and attacked one of the other guys. Next thing I know, I'm running through the streets and nearly ran over by a semi before the cops found me and brought me here," one of the men spoke, a blond-haired man in a soiled Raccoon Sharks windbreaker.

"Well I've been hearing some people rambling on about how this must be some sort of 'virus' causing those people to act like this," the grungy man added, "Whatever it was, my drummer must've had it. He showed up to practice looking all pale and shit and then next thing I know, he's ripping into my bassist Brett's throat…" he trailed on, stopping himself as he noticed the disgusted stares from the others.

"That sounds seriously fucked up right there, dude," Ace replied after taking a long drag on his cigarette, "Not much different from my story. Me and my buddy Rock were passing through on I-96 a few nights ago, hoping to get over to Springvale and link up with the rest of the boys when the bikes started getting low on juice. Naturally, we gotta pull over, so we stopped by that Stagla place over on Park hoping to fill up when those freaks started coming outta the alleys and shit.

"Thank the big man upstairs for us having our pieces on us, but there were too damned many of those suckers. Poor Rock, the crazy fucker got a little wild and hit this barrel and it blew up, getting all this shrapnel in his gut.

"Lucky for us, some farmer guy was passing through and gave us a ride in the back of his truck and so here I am now, caught up in this shithole, separated from the rest of my buddies and with another wounded," the Road Demon explained, stomping out his cigarette on the hardwood floor before scratching his stubbly chin.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" Jake asked with a nod to the others.

"Knock yourself out, kid. Not like we're gonna try to bite ya' like all those rotting asses outside," Ace replied with a wave of his meaty hand.

"Hey, that's not funny!" the young woman finally cut in, "Half of us nearly lost our asses trying to get here and all you can do is sit around and joke about it?"

"Okay, okay sorry lady!" the grizzled biker replied raising his hands protectively into the air, "Geez and I thought my ex-wife was an uptight bitch," he added underneath his breath.

"I heard that! The name's Elza, Elza Walker and I am not an uptight bitch!" the woman replied with her hands on her shapely hips.

"Mind you, we're all in this together," the Umbrella worker finally spoke, "We have greater things to worry about on the outside and the last thing we need is you fighting amongst yourselves when we could all be working together to make it out of this nightmare alive," he said to halt the possible brawl.

"So mister…" the other man asked, this one of Hispanic descent and wearing a soiled light blue dress shirt, extending his hand.

"Smith, Jake Smith," he replied, returning the man's handshake.

"Mr. Smith, what brings you into this mess?" he asked, as the others leaned in waiting to hear his reply.

"I'm on vacation and was passing through when things went to shit. I stopped by J's Bar for a quick meal and the next thing I know, we're being overrun by those zombies. So far, I've been running around this hellhole trying to survive for the past three days."

"Some vacation you've got to write home about, kid," the biker cut in, "My name's Ace, just Ace," he said shoving his gloved hand in his direction. "Now that I think about it, you're that kid from the cafeteria."

"Just Ace?" Jake asked looking strangely towards the big man.

"Yes sir, just Ace. Ace marksman, ace mechanic, ace card player…hell, just an ace at about anything and everything. Nobody and I repeat nobody, beats me at a good game of cards," he proudly proclaimed gesturing with a thumb to his broad chest.

"You're awful sure of yourself," Elza sarcastically retorted.

"Girl, if you weren't young enough to be my daughter I'd show you just how 'sure' I can be," Ace scoffed with a raised eyebrow, prompting a disgusted shudder from the woman.

"Okay, now definitely isn't the time to be discussing things of that nature," the Hispanic man said before returning his attention to Jake, "I do however agree that you need to get yourself a new travel agent."

"You're not the first to tell me that," the hitman chuckled morbidly.

"I'd be shooting my travel agent for a fuck up of this magnitude," the blond-haired man quipped.

"I think we all would," the grungy man said in agreement.

"Well I'd better go and see how my buddy is doing," Ace said rising back to his feet and stretching out his limbs, "Last I heard, Doc Peltz gave him enough sedative to put a horse out for days. With all those shitheads and that tongue freak I heard about, figure I'd better keep a closer eye on the guy."

"Take care," the Hispanic man spoke waving briefly to the man as he stood up himself, "I know it's probably the weirdest time for this, but I've got the munchies again. I'm gonna go raid the nearest vending machine."

"Wait up Marco, I'll join you," the blond-haired man said pushing himself to his feet and following closely.

"My uncle is somewhere in the building. I think I'm gonna look around for him," Elza spoke as she rose from her makeshift seat and nodded curtly to the others, "I was out for a nightly ride when everything started going crazy, so I came here looking for him. I hope he's still alright after what happened earlier."

"Hope he's alright," the grungy man added before rising to his feet, "Well I'm getting bored just sitting around like this, plus I've gotta take a leak. I'll talk to you later Ramsey!" he said with a wave before walking off.

"Be careful Dillon," the worker, now called Ramsey, replied.

At last, Jake had the Umbrella employee all to himself and now would be a time for answers, but he would have to move along slowly to avoid raising suspicions.

"So…Ramsey…" the hitman spoke cautiously.

The young man's head perked up at the sound of his surname being mentioned by a total stranger, but relaxed when he realized Dillon had said his name aloud, "Oh…Sebastian is fine."

"Right…Sebastian…so how the hell did you wind up in this whole mess?" Jake asked, leaning back and trying to act as normally as he could.

Sebastian finished up his cup of hot cocoa and then cleared his throat, "Well, like many of the people here, I was on my way home from work when I got caught up in all of this madness you see before you."

He briefly paused to gather his thoughts before resuming, "I was about to take the nightly bus back to my apartment when all these weird-looking people suddenly appeared and next thing I know, they were attacking people waiting in line outside this club and then…they killed them all…" he trailed on, eyes glazed over with a haunted look of remembered horror.

Jake sat back and said nothing, having seen much of the same madness himself, a part of him relating to the man.

"…and then my bus pulled up, but then I saw another one of those 'people' on there…" he continued with great effort, "…he attacked a woman…ripping into her throat right then and there."

The hitman remained silent, listening to everything the man had to say. Between the man's story sinking in, his mind had to process a made up tall-tale quickly for when it came time to mention Umbrella and how he would dig up his information on Birkin.

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, would you rather we talk about other things?" Jake asked.

There were another few moments of silence as the man slowly looked towards him with a pained stare, water welling up in the man's blue eyes covered by wire-rimmed spectacles, which he rapidly blinked away.

It looked as if a war raged within his mind – one side telling him to trust the stranger and continue the conversation, and the other to either run or shoot first and worry about the consequences later.

Needless to say, Sebastian was already telling a story with his facial expressions and Jake wondered if whether or not the man would be able to carry on the conversation long enough to tell him what he needed to know, if he even knew at all. The Umbrella employee had probably seen more than the rational part of his mind could take, but he pursed his lips together, determined to tell whatever he could.

"It's okay, I'm sure I haven't seen anything you haven't already," he said before clearing his throat and continuing, "all I remember after that is running around on the streets until I came to that barricade and then…those weirdoes tearing through the cops like they were nothing. I saw those things take shotgun, submachine gun and even assault rifle rounds…but they just wouldn't go down…" he answered matter-of-factly and all too quickly.

The same hazy, glazed over look crossed the man's eyes again and he had to shake his head quickly to knock the look from his face.

"Damn…" Jake muttered, leaning towards his newfound acquaintance.

"Something was seriously wrong with all of those people…" was all Sebastian could say.

"Zombies," Jake interjected, "Rotting, smelling, bloodthirsty, 'Night of the Living Dead' motherfuckers come to life."

Sebastian nodded his head almost casually, "Sounds like you hit the nail right on the fucking head, man."

"_So does he have an idea of what's going on here after all?" _Jake asked himself as he looked off to the area where Donald, his wife and the others had congregated. _"I wonder if he's encountered anything else aside from the zombies."_

"You must have encountered some of those 'other monsters' that are supposedly running around, haven't you?" Sebastian asked noting Jake's expression. "You must know what I'm talking about if you're carrying all that hardware," he said nodding to the MP5 held in the hitman's hands.

Jake nodded his head wearily, "Believe me; I've seen more than my fair share of what this freak show has had to offer…shit that shouldn't even exist. Who knows how many rounds and freaking explosives I've gone through battling them."

The Umbrella worker groaned, "Damn, how I wish this was all just one large nightmare."

"We all do," Jake replied, remembering his encounters with that one-eyed bazooka-wielding monster.

"So…was there anybody else out there?" Sebastian asked, "I mean anybody else alive out there who isn't here at the station."

"Yeah," Jake said nodding to the direction of Donald and the others, "Some of those people over there I made it here with." He then began to carefully scan his thoughts for every living person he had encountered over the past three days that was still alive to his knowledge.

"After I checked in over at the Apple Inn, I stopped by some place called J's Bar and made it out with a group of people, but then we got separated when our van crashed and then something appeared and blew it up," he said figuring he better not specify that large monster. "There was also some S.T.A.R.S. member I encountered, Brad his name was. He was saying something about looking for his 'partner' and then he disappeared. There were also a few people I encountered at the bank who later made it here, and there was even a group of mercenaries sent by Umbrella, but I have no clue whatever happened to them."

"Oh…" Sebastian slightly gasped, hanging onto the reference made about the mercenaries, "…well hopefully they're still alive and running around somewhere."

"I hope so too," the hired gun spoke, a part of him showing some genuine concern for those he had been with earlier on, who by now were either dead or hopefully still alive and fighting to find a way out. Seeing that his companion had settled down a little after being able to let it all out, he decided maybe this could be a good time to inquire about any possible connections.

"Mercenaries…here in Raccoon City…" Sebastian whispered to himself.

"Any particular concern to you?" Jake asked.

Sebastian stared back at him coyly, "It's just that…I work for Umbrella…and I wonder why they would employ mercenaries of all things? We're a pharmaceutical company for God's sake," his gaze then turned to one of puzzlement, "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that I know somebody who works with Umbrella, someone who's supposed to reside here in Raccoon City. Tell me; are you by any chance familiar with a man named William Birkin?"

"Why yes I am," the man spoke trying to hide the awkwardness in his tone, "He's a top researcher with our division and I've interacted with him before. Are you an old friend of his or something?"

Jake was barely able to hide his excitement at the revelation. He finally had a lead in this whole mess and now he knew that his decision to stay behind had finally paid off for something.

"Kind of, I met him a couple years back, when I was still in high school. He delivered a lecture in my science class. He really sparked my interest in microbiology and for a time I was considering a career in the field.

"Unfortunately, my family didn't have the funding to send me off to some big fancy university, or any community colleges with a good microbiology program, so I enlisted in the Marine Corps," he chuckled ad-libbing into his fabricated background story, "Anyways, the guy and I kept in touch, exchanging a few e-mails here and there, but then one day he just stopped. I figured since I'd be passing through the area, I'd probably see if he was still in the area, catch up on the good old days you know."

Sebastian adjusted his glasses and gave a relieved smile, "Ah, so that's where you know him from. He never mentioned anything about keeping in touch with students whose lives he's had a positive impact upon, but you hardly know anything with him these days. He's so caught up in his work he hardly has the time to visit anywhere for lectures, let alone visit with any of us."

"Really," Jake asked cocking an eyebrow, "Have you heard from him recently? Before all this crap started up," he asked, leaning towards the man.

"No I haven't. Like I said, these days he's so caught up in his work you never know what's going on with him. Strangely enough, nobody else on my team seemed to have heard anything from him in like the past two days before things went to shit," Sebastian reported, sitting back while shaking his head and throwing his hands up into the air to show he had just been stumped. "For all I know, he could've escaped before the military quarantined us."

"Hmm, wonder what he could've been working on that would still take up his time in a case like this," Jake remarked.

"I have no clue," the researcher said rubbing the back of his neck, "and even if I did know, I wouldn't be able to tell you for confidentiality reasons. The company is very protective of its research and any slip of the tongue results in immediate termination."

"Oh…" Jake said looking off to the side.

"Yeah," Sebastian continued, "From what Annette had been telling people around the office, she would barely see him outside of work, sounded almost as if he had gone into complete isolation over whatever it was."

"Annette?" Jake asked.

"Yeah, his wife," the researcher replied, "Poor thing though, she's been acting all paranoid and shit around the labs recently. She too went missing just a few days ago and hasn't been heard from since. It's like they both vanished off the face of the earth, although I think I've seen his daughter running around here. Christ, to keep a child alone in a place like this of all times sounds pretty cruel if you ask me."

Annette Birkin. That was right, according to company records, Dr. Birkin was married and had a child too, the former was probably still somewhere in the city. His daughter being in the same location could warrant some possible leads if he could find her.

"Do you have any idea where she could be?" Jake asked, "I'm sure her father might have mentioned my name around her before. I'll see if I can help her."

"Last I saw her, she was hanging around the east wing offices, but I don't know for sure because she wouldn't let me anywhere near her. That's weird because she knows who I am from her parents bringing her to work in the past. You shouldn't be able to miss her, she looks just like him."

"Alright, well thanks for the info," Jake said standing up and shaking the man's hand.

"No problem, pleasure to meet you Mr. Smith."

When he created enough distance between himself and the Umbrella researcher, Jake pulled out the photo of William Birkin that was included with the documents delivered to his doorstep and made sure to study it closely. He wanted to have a possible idea of what this girl would look like as he began his search for her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherry Birkin shifted uncomfortably in front of the vending machine as she waited for the bag of Ray's Potato Chips to fall into the chute, so she could tear it open and indulge her screaming taste buds.

It had been days since she had the luxury of enjoying a normal meal, but with everything that had been going on outside, it could possibly days before such an amenity could be received. Until then, she would have to settle for the rations scattered about the station and the odd snack whenever a kindly officer was able to spare her an extra dollar.

She almost felt guilty having to sponge off of the officers like that, but at the same time they were the only people who could protect her since she wasn't allowed to go back home. Her mother's voice suddenly rang in her head as she remembered the rushed phone call, telling her she had to head for the police station and seek shelter immediately.

Baffled, but at the same time being the ever-so-dutiful daughter, she did as instructed and had now been here for the past four days, where she overheard terrifying reports from other citizens seeking shelter, who claimed to have been attacked by sickly-looking people and ravenous animals.

Perhaps her mother's reasons for sending her here had been justified after all.

Unfortunately, there was little in the way of entertainment, especially with the frantic disarray that had been caused by the officers and civilians rushing back and forth at a manic pace. The only continual source of comfort she had was socializing with a few children around her age who had made it here. Several of the officers had been very generous to her too, providing her with pens and paper to draw on, giving her their leftover snacks, and letting her read the numerous books and newspapers scattered around the offices.

So far today, things had been hectic amongst the officers and they barely had any time to pay attention to her. What had been worse was that their numbers seemed to thin with every passing hour and by now, several faces she had become familiarized with were never to be seen again. The tension was visible in a collective tone shared by the survivors and by now they were become more adamant about civilians remaining within the confines of the library.

The preteen's vagabond-like soul however, would not allow her to remain in dusty, creaky old room, most of its space taken up by the large multitude of supplies and all the others present. She especially wanted to escape the depressing atmosphere created by grieving survivors who were either inconsolable upon losing their loved ones, or just too tense to socialize with anybody else period.

Becoming irritated by an ancient machine in dire need of repair, she remembered the ones in the cafeteria, but then she was reminded of all those sick and injured people lying around. For now, it seemed like a better idea to wait and slipped the map back into her pocket, taking the time to go through the rest of her earthly possessions she carried at the moment.

Around her neck she wore a finely crafted gold pendant given to her by her father, which housed a family portrait from a few years back.

She was almost brought to tears at the image of herself with her smiling parents from happier times. The poor girl could not picture a life without her parents as they were the only immediate family she had left, aside from the family members who wanted nothing to do with her parents due to their workaholic lifestyles.

Besides the station map given to her by Officer Wilcox, she had also been given a light green blanket by Officer Branagh to keep herself warm after the station's heating and cooling were knocked out of commission. At the moment, it was draped across her shoulders like a cape.

A can of Umbrella, Inc. manufactured first-aid spray was kept safely in another pocket. It was given to her by her mother, who had become paranoid recently, mentioning some sort of "virus" that had been sweeping through the city and not wanting her to catch it.

As she thought of her possessions, she suddenly remembered another item she had found in the station and withdrew a silver key that had a pink diamond design on the end. The key had been dropped by an officer rushing outside with a shotgun to help reinforce the outside barricades. She hoped to return it to the nice man once he returned, but that was hours ago and he still hadn't shown up, leading her to think maybe one of those sick people had gotten their hands on him.

The thought of those sick people sent chills down her spine and she shook her head to help dissolve those frightening thoughts. They already frightened her enough from what she had seen from behind the protection of the station windows.

"_Could they get inside?" _she asked herself, nearly frozen in place by the sobering thought.

A loud ding rang out and Sherry looked anxiously towards the machine as the bag of potato chips fell from its shelf and into the waiting chute.

"Finally," she muttered, snatching the bag and tearing it open, stuffing a handful of crisp cheese and sour cream rippled potato chips into her watery mouth. Everything seemingly changed as her hunger was temporarily quenched and within seconds, she had completely devoured everything in the bag and then made her way over to a nearby water cooler.

The preteen girl exhaled deeply as the cool liquid flowed down her throat and smiled briefly at the relief brought upon by the water, something which had never stood out as much until now.

"_Time to go," _she thought to herself, wanting to get back to the library before anybody could notice she was gone. Looking around carefully for any officers or other adults present, she made her way towards the tan oak door at the end of the hall.

Before her hand could even touch the brass knob, the door had already opened and she gulped aloud as her form was completely enveloped by a large shadow.

Standing tall above her was a large man who measured well over six feet in height, gigantic compared to her diminutive four foot ten inch figure, with a muscular build barely covered by the clothing he wore.

He was dressed like one of those gothic rocker types she had seen on the cover of her cousin's "Metal Nation" magazines, wearing a tattered and filthy long black trench coat the barely ended above his shins, black cargo pants, red, black and silver Cyke tennis shoes, black fingerless gloves, and most noticeably a black t-shirt displaying an elaborate design of a red dragon that threatened to leap off the canvas and attack anybody who viewed it up close.

In awe of his muscular body alone, Sherry slowly guided herself up to his face. With a slightly tanned complexion, he was still easily identified as Caucasian with his chiseled face obscured slightly by fresh black stubble. He had short black hair worn spiked up and stared down upon her with cold bluish-gray eyes, greatly emphasized by bushy black eyebrows that gave him an intimidating, almost vampiric stare.

The man looked like the stereotypical stranger parents warned their children never to talk to, and more so he looked like one of the shady figures the young girl had noticed hanging around her neighborhood recently. She recalled overhearing her parents arguing one night about some "mysterious types" that were out to get them and they had to carry protection at all times or else they would steal her father's "life's work."

Frightened by the large man, there was only one thing young Sherry Birkin could do…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The little girl stood before him draped in a light green blanket, covering a sailor suit he would only expect to find on a toddler. She had chin-length blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a round cherubic face and a small button nose. He recognized her face right away.

"_That's gotta be Birkin's daughter! No doubt!" _his mind shouted to him.

The Birkin girl was instantly frightened by his appearance and let out an ear-piercing scream that would surely attract the attention of any officers nearby. The blanket fell to the floor and she broke off into a sprint towards the double blue doors leading to the east wing offices.

Jake said nothing and began his pursuit, knowing her small legs probably wouldn't take her very far.

He almost knocked the doors from their hinges as he dashed inside, surprised to find the office empty for the time being. There was no time to ponder as he watched the girl disappear into a narrow side hallway and slam another door behind her. Picking up his speed, he approached the door and threw it open, finding himself in another hallway covered by an icky-looking yellow wallpaper and lined with windows to his right.

Before him, the little girl stood buckled over and out of breath, but shot straight up once she noticed the hitman was in the room with her.

"No…please…" she begged, throwing her arms up in front of her face.

A plethora of gunshots suddenly came from outside, diverting Jake's attention to the windows and he looked outside to see two officers firing at an unseen attacker.

"What the-" he managed to get out before a brown and black blur came flying through the window, shattering into tiny glass shards and throwing the child to the floor.

Gathering his wits, Jake found a snarling German Shepherd had landed in the corridor and immediately set its sights upon the girl.

Horror raced through her mind as the monstrosity stood before her, patches of missing skin revealing its glistening muscle underneath, its tail ripped from its backside, and most of the flesh torn away from its face, revealing a hideous permanent grin beneath. The creature let out a demented bark before it reared back, ready to strike.

"Get down!" the hitman shouted.

The little girl looked back to Jake, just as he withdrew his MP5 and took aim upon the creature. Instinctively, she threw herself face down to the floor and threw her arms protectively over her head.

With a deep breath, Jake fired a volley of hot lead into the former police dog's side, knocking it backwards against the wall behind it and loosening most of the plaster where it struck. The zombified dog was still alive, but severely wounded and unable to move.

The girl raised her arms to look at the wounded dog, but the hitman stood above and motioned for her to look away.

Never taking his eyes off the mangled pooch, Jake walked over and fired a single round into its skull.

"Stay," he spat morbidly.

"Oh shit, is everything alright in here?" an officer called from the outside.

The two officers from outside climbed in through the shattered window to find the freshly-killed mutt lying in a pool of its own blood. Another door opened and Jake whirled around to find three police officers entering the hall with weapons drawn.

"What the fuck?" one of the entering officers asked upon noticing Jake with his smoking MP5.

"Sweetie, are you alright?" another officer asked as he noticed the little girl rising to her hands and knees.

The little girl stood up and turned around to face Jake, saying nothing as she carefully eyed him up and down and then turned to survey the rotting canine's carcass lying against the wall.

"That man…he just saved my life!" she squeaked out.

The police officers looked over to Jake suspiciously, who carefully placed his submachine gun on the floor. "It's okay, she's with me."

A slight gasp escaped the girl's lips as she looked up to him wide-eyed, but he gave her an urgent look, telling her to play along. With great reluctance, the young girl turned around and nodded to the officers.

"Okay," the officer spoke surveying the shattered window, "well it's not safe to be here right now." He then turned to address one of his colleagues, "Tell Lt. Monroe we need a window boarded up before any of those crazies can sneak inside!"

The officer nodded and disappeared from sight, followed by the three others, while the speaking cop remained behind. "Sir, I don't know if it would be too safe to let you travel about right now. You'd better stay here in the night watchmen's quarters until we get this window fixed," he said motioning towards the room he had his two colleagues had emerged from.

"Sure thing," Jake said as he approached the girl, who immediately whirled around to face him.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you," he hissed, raising a hand to silence her. The hitman stopped himself when he realized his tone sounded too authoritative. Granted, he didn't have much experience in dealing with children, but knew she probably wouldn't take too kindly to somebody ordering her around like a drill sergeant, especially at a time like this.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated, this time in a more soothing voice and holstered his weapon to show that he meant no harm. Slowly stepping towards the girl, he outstretched his hand, "My name is Jake, what's yours?" he asked, trying to sound as gentle as he possibly could.

She looked at him nervously, sniffling like she was about to break into tears. Sure, he looked like a creepy, nightmarish individual, but at the same time he had just saved her life.

"I'm here to help," Jake continued as he listened to her frightened whimpering, "Please, you have to trust me," he said kneeling down to meet her eye to eye.

Tilting her head to the side to avoid eye contact, she finally mumbled "Sherry…Sherry Birkin."

"Okay Sherry, it's very nice to meet you. Now, we need to do as the policeman says and get to the quarters," Jake said motioning towards the opened door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The pounding of hammers striking wood reverberated outside the lounge, but had been unable to distract Jake from his meal as he sat at the table with his newfound acquaintance, Sherry Birkin.

Barely any words had been spoken on the little girl's behalf as Jake relayed the same falsehoods to her as he had with other survivors when questioned about his past. For the most part, she looked around the small lounge and anything that would serve as a small distraction for her, be it the decorated lockers lining the walls, the rest area at the back of the room, the TV hanging from the corner, anything to avoid maintaining eye contact with the stranger. Whenever she did actually reply, it came out in a half-whispered one or two word tidbit.

Jake could feel her apprehension, knowing how his grizzled appearance bewildered a lot of people, one that had been described in the past as "a cross between a bum off the streets and a death row inmate." Still, he did whatever he could to make her feel as comfortable as possible.

Raiding the refrigerator, he had rounded up some leftover pizza and a few untouched sodas, along with some breadsticks from Raphael's Corner Bistro, which they had mostly depleted as Jake told his story.

He honestly didn't like lying to the kid, but did what he had to as a means to an end. As far as he was concerned, his battle wasn't with her anyway, harming children was not his style. In a way, he almost felt as if he would be doing her a favor if he were to rub out her father.

The cute, innocent girl sitting before him was spawned by cruel, amoral and inhuman wretches who probably showed little care for humanity and only cared about filling their wallets. He knew he was probably one to talk with his own shady background, but the hitman operated within his own set of morals and avoided those who did him no harm.

With everything he had been through over the past few days, her father had done him plenty of harm, as most of these creatures were probably part of his research.

"_I'll be doing this as much for you as I'll be doing it for myself," _Jake reminded himself as he stared at the adolescent, who sat in the middle of finishing up another slice of pizza.

"So Sherry, tell me, where were your parents when you last heard from them?" the hired gun asked before taking a sip of his Loco Cola.

"At work…" she muttered before taking a few deep breaths, "…my daddy hadn't been home in two days before everything started. It's nothing new though; he practically lives out of his office and only comes home when necessary. Believe me, he's gone even longer periods without setting foot in the house."

"I see," Jake said leaning back, feeling proud of himself for finally getting more than one complete sentence out of her. "What about your mother?"

"I don't remember the last time she was home," Sherry spoke as she fought back tears, "She called me at school and told me that it wasn't safe to go home anymore. I was supposed to come here because people were being weird, like they were really sick or something."

Jake said nothing, only nodding to her response. In a way, he related to the girl.

He grew up in a dysfunctional household with an abusive father and a mother who would be beaten severely if she ever tried coming to his defense. He never really had a close relationship with his father and it was often at the elder Cavanaugh's insistence he be left to fend for himself, viewed in his eyes as a "fuck up criminal who would never amount to anything."

It was sadistic, but he almost smiled at the thought of what happened six years ago. It was horrifying at first, but then as it sunk in, he felt as if he had lifted a burden from his shoulders and did his family a favor.

"Where do your parents work?" he further inquired.

"At the chemical plant…near the city limits!" she spoke between sips of her soda.

"Okay, can you tell me how to get there? I promise I'll try to find your parents," Jake asked leaning closer to the girl.

Listening closely, she explained to him everything she could recall from previous visits. He took in all of her information like a data processor and realized that what she gave him involved traveling through the streets, which was practically suicide. The crafty hired gun had other ideas though.

The lounge door opened and Jake was surprised to find Officer Elliott Edward stepping through, wiping a fresh layer of sweat away from his face with a handkerchief.

"Both of you really shouldn't be over in this part of the building. It isn't safe here," he said before looking back into the hallway. "We've managed to get that window boarded up, so until then, you're free to go."

"Fine," Jake said and then turned his attention to Sherry, "Come along."

As they stepped back into the hall, a few of the officers from earlier were now gathered around the boarded up window with weapons drawn and had managed to sweep up most of the glass that had been once littered the floor.

Once they were alone Jake again spoke to Sherry.

"Alright, I thank you very much for your cooperation. One way or another, I'm going to get out of here and do what needs to be done," he explained.

Sherry looked at him flabbergasted, "B-But Jake…what about the police officers? They won't let you go…an-an-and what about those sick people out there? They could hurt you pretty bad!"

"I'm going to get out of here one way or another and do what I have to," Jake explained.

The young girl could sense the seriousness in his tone and stared at him with a sad expression, telling him that she didn't want him to leave. It was only with great effort that she nodded. "Okay, I understand. Please find my parents."

They were now back in the hall where Jake had first discovered the girl and he led her over to a bench, sitting her down before getting down to one knee to look her directly in the eye. "I can't make any promises kid, but I will try. Believe me, I will."

"Sherry, there you are!" a Southern-accented female voice called out. It was Officer Rita Wilcox, the woman who had led him to the cafeteria for his treatment. Upon seeing her, he rose back to his feet and prepared to leave, until he felt a tug at his sleeve.

"Jake wait!" she said standing up again and reached for something in her pocket.

He turned around to find the girl presenting him with a key. "Please, take this. One of the officers dropped it when he went outside, but he never came back. I want you to have it. It should be easier for you to get through the station."

Jake studied the key closely. It was mostly just a plain silver key, but its tip had a unique diamond design with a pink interior. Truly a weird design for a police station's key, but then again, this was no ordinary police station.

He wanted to feel gratified, but at the same time the gesture shocked him.

"Sherry, why are you giving this to me? Shouldn't you give this to one of the officers?" he asked as Officer Wilcox approached.

"Because you said you'd help find my parents and I trust you. You deserve this more," she replied, giving him the puppy dog eyes with her upper lip curling.

With a reluctant grunt, Jake accepted the key and dropped it into one of his many pockets.

"Sherry, what are you doing over here? This place is too dangerous for you to be at, especially with all those sick people in the cafeteria," Rita explained.

"I-I-I was just getting a snack…" the preteen stammered, but then looked over to Jake, "…and one of those bad dogs tried to get me…"

"It's okay ma'am," Jake intervened, "everything should be secured. Your colleagues boarded up the window and are on guard right now."

The hitman turned on his heel and proceeded for the single door leading out of the corridor, faced with a new moral dilemma.

He had now gotten the information he needed regarding the possible whereabouts of his target, straight from the man's own daughter, but in the process had probably gotten more than he bargained for.

Sure, he had gained Sherry's trust long enough for her to divulge such information, but at the same time she had turned out to be an emotionally needy soul who longed for somebody to confide in, someone to form a bond with. It almost felt as if she had suddenly grown attached to him.

Over and over again in his mind, he could only think of her plea for him to find her parents, a trust that had led her to bequeath him a key that rightfully should have been given to any one of the officers, but instead she gave it to him of all people, a total stranger who had initially frightened her.

Jake then looked down to his MP5, thinking of how he would eliminate William Birkin when he finally stepped into his crosshairs.

Another thought then forced its way into his mind: the kind of potentially scarring effect he would have on little Sherry Birkin when she learns of her father's demise.

"_Take it easy Jake, this guy's a sick bastard who will be getting what he deserves. Besides, she doesn't have to know it was you who killed her old man," _his conscience reminded him as he stepped back into the station's main hall.

A few more officers milled about, either standing guard or chatting quietly amongst themselves. At the semicircular desk, he was able to make out Lt. Monroe sitting at one of the chairs and involved in a conversation with both Officers Burchill and Sears. On the second floor mezzanine a few armed civilians stood guard and Officer Dixon soon came into sight, lowering the emergency ladder and climbing down, followed closely by Officer Jameson.

The double doors across from the hitman came open, everybody shifting their attention as Lt. Branagh stepped into sight, flanked by Officer Ford and Sgt. Carlsen.

"Okay everybody listen up," Lt. Branagh called out, his voice bouncing off of the foyer's walls, "We've got a meeting that'll be taking place in the briefing room in one hour. For those of you who are available, we need to see you there," he said motioning to the officers present.

"What's it going to be about?" Lt. Monroe asked as he rose from his chair as everybody stared longingly towards his colleague.

Marvin froze as he felt all the sharp stares upon him and gingerly made his way over to the desk where his fellow lieutenant waited, leaving their colleagues to whisper worriedly.

Jake stared intently at the chattering lieutenants and tried studying their gestures to see if he could get any idea of what they were discussing, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around, he found Officer Edward standing behind him.

"Mr. Smith, I think you'd better get back to the library. We're going to need people to stand guard while we're at this meeting and if I remember correctly, you're still deputized."

Jake looked back and forth between him and the talking lieutenants before speaking, "Alright, I'll be there."

The door opened behind him and he turned to see Sherry Birkin now being led into the main hall by Officer Wilcox, smiling and waving to him as she walked past him.

"_She looks so sweet and innocent," _he said to himself, thinking of how this kind of nightmare was no place for a child. Furthermore, her disarming smile temporarily made him think back to his own childhood.

"_That girl has an innocence I never had at such an age. If she finds out what I'm about to do to her father, it will destroy that," _he thought.

"_She probably has no idea what he really does for a living. _

"_To her, he's probably just 'dear old Dad,' one of the people who helped bring her into this misbegotten world. He probably read to her before she went to bed, might've taught her how to ride a bike without her training wheels, taken her to the park on a nice sunny day…stuff my father never did for me._

"_No matter how much of a bastard he may be, William Birkin is still her father and probably all she has left if her mother is dead. I might be doing the world a favor, but what about her? Would she view things in a different perspective if she were to learn of his real activities within Umbrella? Would he still be 'dear old Dad' if she were to find out he might have had a role in what's going on here right now?_

"_I could be doing the world a favor by whacking Birkin, but I could be opening up Pandora's Box with his daughter's emotional state at the same time."_

Never before had he thought this much about a prospective target and the ramifications he could have upon their loved ones once the deed had been done.

"Goddamn it," the hitman sighed as he made his way towards the double doors.

"_Just shut up and do your job Jake," _the more aggressive side of his mind scolded him; _"You're here to carry out a mission, not make friends. What you've done in the past is the past and nothing more. Once you've taken out Birkin, they'll probably turn his daughter over to the state if she survives and you'll never have to see her ever again."_

Author's Note: To anybody who follows the Resident Evil movies, I'm sure you probably picked out the reference right away with Jake and the dog. *Evil laugh*

I've been looking through the original DA to contemplate my next moves for the upcoming chapter and realize I may have a lot of cutting and pasting to do, as well as completely eliminating certain elements when it comes down to what will happen next and what not.

I know…like being stuck in one huge game of chess, where every movement becomes crucial when it comes down to it.

Well once again I believe I have ranted and raved long enough and as usual, eagerly await your oncoming reviews.

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	23. Ch 22: A Tense Meeting

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And so I update in record time! Hot damn that is new for me!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'd better get on with the story before the angry townspeople pull out the battering ram and try to beat my door down!

Chapter 22: A Tense Meeting

It was now close to 8 o'clock at night and already most of the available officers had gathered for the impending meeting.

Unfortunately, it had turned out not to be as big a turnout as expected.

Aside from the two lieutenants Branagh and Monroe, there were only nine other officers present. Everybody else was either standing guard outside or patrolling the rest of the building's interior for possible threats.

_"And who knows if it's going to get any bigger than this," _Marvin Branagh thought to himself as he looked out towards his fatigued, blood-covered colleagues, who were either chatting quietly amongst themselves, getting refreshments from the vending machines at the back of the room, or just sitting quietly in the disorganized rows of desks waiting for the meeting to start.

The messy atmosphere of the Raccoon City Police Department's briefing room reflected the disarray going on all around them; then again the place had always looked more like a sloppy high school classroom. This time around, it had almost become a sick joke to a trained observer.

Officers of various ranks and departments were present, excluding the S.W.A.T. team for the time being, until Sgt. Foreman showed up that is.

Granted, there were several well-armed civilians scattered around the station who seemed to know what they were doing, but this meeting was reserved strictly for the officers.

"_If they were in on our plans they'd probably try going into business for themselves," _Marvin thought to himself as he remembered the civilians that had attempted to escape through the manhole in the station's kennel after they were whipped into a frenzy by that reporter guy named Ben. They were forced to detain him for his actions.

"_Who knows what they would do if given a gun and a possible escape route," _he thought as he remembered one man in particular, some ex-Air Force guy named Jarek, who had gotten into a shouting match with some of the guys following the appearance of that "Licker" creature. He claimed they "weren't doing their jobs" and thought he was in twice as much danger being stuck under the same roof with all of them than he would be out on the streets.

Needless to say, he managed to somehow sneak outside and scale the outer wall, dashing past the barricade set up on Warren Street and then disappearing from sight.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but Marvin had no doubt in his mind that right now, that man was probably among the numbers of the walking dead.

The lieutenant shifted his thoughts back to the present and observed the officers who were present.

David Ford sat in one of the front row desks, his head hanging low as he scribbled away furiously at the notepad beneath him. It was unknown what he was currently transcribing, or if it even applied to police procedures at all. As far as Marvin was concerned, he was probably looking for some kind of normal, everyday routine to maintain his sanity.

"_He's really been taking it hard ever since that incident with Meyer," _the lieutenant thought to himself, having caught him in the middle of sipping some whiskey down in one of the restrooms. How he managed to smuggle the bottle into the building was beyond him, but there was nothing he could do to discipline the man and instead, had taken to keeping a close eye on him, especially because he knew of the man's reputation for becoming violent whenever he was inebriated.

Elliott Edward stood off to the side with his arms crossed in front of him and reclining against the wall, almost as if he were in the middle of a daydream.

Marvin really had to applaud the man's efforts for the way he had taken charge of overseeing the deputized civilians. Up until a few days ago, he was just another beat cop patrolling the uptown district, but all of that had changed and he had come into his own as a leader. If he were to survive this incident, perhaps he could see the man being promoted somewhere down the line.

He had often heard stories of men and women being forced to really "find themselves" in the face of great adversity and rising to their fullest potential. Maybe this had been the moment for Elliott Edward.

"_Too bad it has to be under these circumstances," _Marvin thought as his gaze then shifted towards Aaron Groening, another officer who had quickly become a respected veteran at a relatively young age.

Whenever he thought of Officer Groening's accomplishments, he had to think of that bust over on Abernathy Street from three years back. It was there that the officer and his partner, Raymond Green, had received complaints of suspicious individuals who had been seen transporting large oil drums into a house and suspected possible drug-related activity.

Called upon to issue a search warrant, the officers found themselves met by a small group of paranoid thugs with itchy trigger fingers who opened fire upon them and attempted to escape.

In the end, both men were forced to chase the dealers down and managed to corner them in Raccoon Park, apprehending four criminals without a single loss of life.

"_They even got praise from 'Fat Boy' Irons of all people," _Marvin thought with a smile as he then came across Dustin Burchill, Ellen Sears, Fred Dixon and Rita Wilcox, who were all congregated near the vending machines adjacent to the room's double doors.

He had heard about the former two being stationed over at the safe house set up in the city's public library, only for it to fall into chaos as a majority of its defenders were slaughtered by "gigantic spiders."

It was a story he would have dismissed as nothing more than a fairytale imagined by someone under the influence of some major drug, but he could tell by the haunted looks in their eyes and the quiver in their voices that they were not making things up.

The thought of those being haunted by their previous failures then brought Marvin's attention over to a young blond-haired man who sat off to the side drinking a soda and generally keeping to himself.

With the MP5 slung over his shoulder and all the excess clips he carried, in addition to the police-issued Beretta on his hip, a .38 caliber revolver in a poorly-concealed shin holster, police baton tucked into his belt and a survival knife resting in a special holster around his shoulder, he looked like he was ready to take on an entire swarm of the undead all by himself.

Levi Castor was the man's name and he had quite a reputation around the station as being a "gun nut," something which he did nothing to deny and often boasted of having "more guns than God."

The young man seemed to possess a very casual attitude in regards to his hobby, often saying that he would be the man to see when the Apocalypse came. To many, it seemed as if putting a bullet in someone wouldn't have bothered him at all.

That is, until yesterday…

Derrick Emil, the 42-year old owner of the popular Grill 13 restaurant, was brought into the station's parking lot turned refugee camp, staggering in after escaping from a crowd of zombies that had swarmed his establishment.

Eventually, he began showing signs of infection and needed to be put out of his misery.

Levi Castor was the very man to put him down.

Throughout the increase in violence, Officer Castor had reportedly fired upon several of the mutated townspeople, but for some odd reason that particular killing stood out and had caused him to withdraw into his present quiet state.

"_It's not like he's alone, I've had to kill people too," _Marvin ruefully reminded himself, _"It's something no officer ever wishes for, but it comes with the territory. I knew that the day I took my oath to serve and protect."_

Lastly, his gaze happened across Harry Muntz, who was another well-known coward among the station's numbers, ranking up there with the infamous Brad "Chickenheart" Vickers.

Like many others, Marvin often questioned how such an inept, timorous individual could obtain such a position, but he wasn't one to inquire as long as the man did his job, which thankfully involved him spending most of his time behind a desk.

When things had started going to shit a few nights ago, he was one of the officers who was called to provide assistance with setting up explosive charges on Main Street when a group of zombies had converged upon that area.

That "group" was more like half the city's population and in the end, only Officer Muntz had come back alive after receiving some assistance from a group of brave citizens led by fellow officer Kevin Ryman, who was currently missing and presumed dead.

"_A lot of guys are presumed dead at this point," _he said to himself as he looked over to Lt. Monroe, who was anxiously looking down at his watch.

"It's almost 8 o'clock. They're going to be late," the older man hissed.

"Stay calm Hank, I'm sure they're on their way right now," Marvin replied, "Besides, you know Mayor Warren, he's never late for anything," he said with a slight smirk.

The double doors opened and in came Mayor Michael Warren, flanked by Sgt. Neil Carlsen and his S.W.A.T. counterpart Wade Foreman, along with officers Raymond Green and George Scott, the latter of whom being a well-known friend of the mayor's.

Everybody understood the man's importance and quickly rose to their feet to receive him.

The short, balding man nodded in acknowledgment as he made his way towards the podium at the front of the room and received some papers from Lt. Monroe. Everything quieted down as the senior officers then huddled around the mayor to review the documents and maps, speaking in hushed tones until they seemed to reach an agreement.

With their brief conference settled, Mayor Warren stepped up to the podium with Lt. Monroe and Sgt. Foreman taking positions next to him.

Every officer present sat as quietly as a church mouse with their undivided attention focused on the little man in the soiled gray suit. They did not want to miss a single word spoken as this was a matter of life and death for both them and every single townsperson under their watch. If they wanted to make it out alive, they hoped the very superiors they had entrusted their lives to would be able to think up an effective plan that would allow them to escape from the city.

Whatever was about to come their way, they were ready to confront it.

Mayor Warren cleared his throat and began, "I want to thank all of you for being able to join me in this difficult time, as this recent series of events will require our full cooperation with one another."

He was already perspiring heavily and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat away from his balding head. His skin was already turning a bright shade of red and everybody looked towards him, wondering if he was up to the task of leading them through this crisis.

Mayor Warren could feel their stares and nodded before again clearing his throat and soldiering forward, wanting to do whatever he could for his subordinates.

"As all of you may know…" he paused before continuing, "…for the past three nights our fair city has been overwhelmed by a mysterious occurrence that has overtaken a majority of our populace, transforming them into what some people have described as 'the living dead,' or 'zombies'."

The mention of the terms "living dead" and "zombies" sent a shockwave through the small room, causing everybody present to shudder in terror. Even the mayor had to stop and compose himself as he spoke, taking a few deep breaths as he contemplated what he was about to say.

"Despite our best combined efforts, their numbers have proven too great for us to deal with alone and barely within the span of 72 hours; they have managed to overtake most of the city. I know I'm about to ask all of you to make a difficult decision, but we have no other choice and that is why I ask for your total cooperation," the mayor spoke, lowering his head to examine the maps laid out before him.

"We must evacuate Raccoon City."

Those very words hit home and everybody began to murmur to one another in disbelief.

Evacuating was going to be a difficult situation for all of them. Some were lifelong citizens of the city or had spent a majority of their lives here. This was a city where they met their loved ones, raised families, had many close friends and associates, hung out at the bars and shops, so much they would lose.

Mayor Warren took some deep breaths and continued his speech, "For the past few hours, myself, along with Sgt. Foreman and Sgt. Carlsen have been reviewing maps of the general Raccoon area, and along with gathered intel from our remaining air units, have been planning out possible escape routes," he said handing a map to Officers Scott and Green, who then pinned each corner to a section of the blackboard untouched by the drawn up station layout.

It was now Marvin and Lt. Monroe's turn to look suspiciously towards one another before returning their attention to the mayor.

"And why were Lt. Branagh and myself not included?" Lt. Monroe demanded, placing his hands on his hips and glaring harshly towards the city official, not even bothering to hide his displeasure at being left out.

Before any words could be spoken by either party, Mayor Warren looked sheepishly towards Sgt. Carlsen, who felt his unease and chose to speak for him.

"We would've let you in on it, but we didn't want too many people knowing about it," he said shifting his attention back and forth between the lieutenants and the lower-ranked officers. "We figured word would get around and before you knew it, we'd probably end up seeing the townspeople whipped into a frenzy and trying to escape on their own. Remember that reporter guy pulling that shit earlier on?"

Both lieutenants steeled at the mention of what that man caused, Bertolucci his last name was and to their current knowledge, was still locked up down in the station's cell block.

"Yeah, who knows who could've been listening in," Sgt. Foreman added, "For all we know, one of our own might've tried escaping by themselves. We sure as hell couldn't have had that. We're about to clue you in on the rest right now."

Taking that cue, Mayor Warren continued.

"Okay, for the next part of this briefing I'm going to turn the floor over to Sgt. Foreman," the short city official said taking a spot next to the bald officer, quickly slinking down and wanting the attention taken away from him.

"Thank you Mayor," Sgt. Foreman spoke grabbing a pointer and approaching the map. "Due to the spread of the 'outbreak,' numerous accidents have occurred all over the city, heavily congesting many of our larger streets and major highway routes. Combined with the raging blazes and mobs of those 'things' roaming the streets, it would be virtually impossible to pass through the general downtown business, West and Southside districts by vehicle and trying to lead sixty plus survivors through the streets on foot would be a damned suicide mission waiting to happen."

"Umm, pardon me Sergeant!" Rita said raising her hand, "You mention an 'outbreak' and for all we know, those things out there have to be zombies, but have you heard anything on any other possible ways this…uh 'plague' could be spreading about?"

Sgt. Foreman nodded, "For all we know at this point, it appears to transmit after people have been bitten or scratched by those infected, at least that's what we know from eyewitness accounts."

"Is there any idea how whatever it is could've gotten into the city?" Fred spoke up from the back.

"What if it's airborne?" Harry suddenly asked in his typical whiny tone, "What if we're all infected ourselves and ready to turn into flesh-eating freaks at any minute?" he asked, his remark drawing a few worried stares, "What if it's already spread to other cities?" he whimpered as Ellen Sears appeared behind him to place a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"I don't know if that's the case to tell you the truth," Sgt. Foreman snapped, wanting to silence the well-known worrywart before he could get everybody else worked up, "Right now, we need to focus on the here and there," he said returning his attention to the map, "Now if I may continue…"

He moved his pointer towards the southern portion of the city, right over the police station, "We are presently here in the main R.P.D. building, located in the south central portion of town, meaning we don't have much room for surveying the area other than our aerial units."

"And what have they found so far?" Marvin asked as he stared intently at the map, "Any possible evac points?"

Sgt. Foreman brought his pointer to a large gray area located at the very edge of the city, "The Raccoon City Airport."

"Raccoon City Airport," Monroe gasped, "That's all the way across the city! Just how do you expect to transport that many people back and forth with three choppers left? You'd have to transport all the civilians and then come back for all of us!"

"What is the status of our copters?" Marvin spoke up from the side, "We heard about Falcon 4 going down over Warren Stadium. How are the others holding up?"

Again, Sgt. Carlsen took the time to speak, "We've been in constant radio contact with Kingman and Strid and from the sound of things, everything seems fine with them. As for Falcon 3, Steiner is over at the airport right now refueling and by all accounts, that area seems devoid of any threats."

Sgt. Foreman again spoke up, "With that assessment, we may be able to put our primary evacuation plan to work."

Everybody now paid full attention as the S.W.A.T. sergeant stepped up to the podium and prepared to state his objectives, "Our plan is to use our remaining choppers to airlift the survivors from the station over to the airfield, where there should be some aircrafts available for us to use to evacuate the survivors to the nearest cities."

"But what about the barricades set up around the city?" Aaron Groening exclaimed rising to his feet, "Who knows if they've contacted the Air Force by now? If they see any aircrafts trying to fly outside of the city's airspace, then who knows if they won't be sending somebody over to shoot us down?"

"He's got a point Sarge," Levi Castor said now entering the conversation, "How do you plan on carrying this out?"

"The airport is within city airspace, technically I don't think the Army or the Air Force would allow any of their units into a quarantined area without special clearance, and I'm sure that would have to come from pretty high up. For the time being, we should be safe," Sgt. Foreman explained.

"There will be radio equipment there that we should be able to get working with the right people," Sgt. Carlsen added, "To our knowledge; we have a few airport employees holed up in the library right now. We're going to personally see to it that they are on the first flight. Once that's done, hopefully we will be able to reach through to any of the units manning the barricades and showing them that not everybody in here is infected."

"That's gonna take some serious convincing," Officer Ford huffed sarcastically, "How do you expect to pull that off? How can we know that they'll be willing to get off their fat asses and meet up with us to see it for themselves? They probably think we're all infected and will just leave us to die anyway."

"We still have to try Ford. It's better than sitting around here and waiting to die," Elliott Edward spoke, showing that he held some faith in the plans.

"Where would we go if we're able to get out of here?" Burchill then asked.

Sgt. Foreman touched points outside the Raccoon City area shown on the map, "There are several surrounding cities in Douglas County with commercial airports where we would be able to touch down. Among them are Latham, Oakhill, Eagle Point and Gainsborough. Because of the outbreak and the lack of activity at the airport, chances are very high that the available aircrafts, if any, are probably low on fuel and maintenance. Our best option in this scenario would be Eagle Point."

Officer Sears then raised her hand before the sergeant nodded to her, granting her permission to speak.

"You mention the possibility of low on fuel and maintenance, are there any possible secondary transport options out of this city? Like what about the cable car station at Lonsdale Yard? That's not too far away from here, or what about the train station over on Mission Street?"

"Both options are too risky at this point," Sgt. Foreman regretfully groaned, "Kingman reported that both lines were too congested. Granted, we could possibly use both trains as moving shields, the latter of which could probably get us over to Stone Ville, but they're both in areas where most of the zombie activity has been reported."

"There's also another major downside," Sgt. Carlsen gravely spoke, "Because of the lack of space in the back of our copters, we might only be able to fit between eight and ten survivors, not counting at least one or two armed officers we will have to send along with every group.

"It would be a very time consuming plan that would require at least six or seven trips back and forth between the station and the airport. Having three choppers would speed things up, but not by much."

"And we don't have much time left, further evidenced by that attack we barely held off earlier," Lt. Monroe sighed.

"And we're also low on ammo thanks to that fat prick Irons ordering everything be scattered around," Officer Green grunted, "Terrorist attack my ass; this is the living fucking dead we're talking about here."

"That plus Attleburgh is missing," remarked Officer Scott, referencing the station's gunsmith, the man in charge of the card key used to access weapons storage.

"What if the airport has no additional aircrafts available?" Aaron asked, "Are there any backup plans?"

"We actually have two backup plans," the S.W.A.T. sergeant replied, taking a brief pause before speaking up again. "Our backup plans we have formulated are in many ways much quicker than Plan A, but they are also more dangerous and are to be used as an absolute last resort."

The words "last resort" made many officers tense up and display various masks of doubt and anxiety, yet they sat ready to receive whatever information was about to come their way.

"In the instance of our escape choppers being damaged, our first plan will be to round up the survivors and exit through the manhole in the kennel, where we should be able to lead them to another city from there."

This plan did not sit well with the officers one bit and many were quick to voice their disapproval of the idea.

"We can't just lead a bunch of unarmed civilians through the sewer system!" Aaron protested, "It's too dangerous. It would be too dark for us to keep track of them and how can we be certain there aren't more of those zombies lurking down there?"

"Yeah, remember what happened to those people who tried escaping when that whack job reporter came in telling them there was a way out through the sewers?" Lt. Monroe angrily shouted, "None of them ever came back!"

"Plus Carlsen told us about his encounter with that mysterious fellow down in the sewers," Elliott added, "Whoever that guy was; he left behind all those explosives and ammunition. How can we be certain there isn't some whacko down there right now planning something right under our noses?"

"Not only that, we've been getting all those reports of those eerie sounds coming from the drainage system over on Campbell Street," Harry groaned, "Mind you, eight women have already gone missing because of whatever is going on over there and we don't need any more innocent bystanders turning up missing after what's been going on up here!"

The situation was heating up and the higher-ranking officers were quick to do whatever they could to calm the situation.

"People, people…settle down! Settle the fuck down!" Sgt. Foreman hollered, waving his hands frantically in hopes of maintaining control, "I know this would be an unpopular strategy, but realistically it's one of the only options we have left!"

"What about the 'virus' Dr. Peltz thinks might be going around?" Fred asked, "How can we be certain it's not caused by something in the water? We'd be asking for even more trouble right then and there!"

"Especially if somebody has an open cut and the water gets exposed to that," Officer Castor added.

"Well it's either that, or those freaks outside give it to us!" Sgt. Carlsen shot back, "Either way, we're fucked."

Sgt. Foreman had finally had enough and withdrew his MP5, threatening to fire it into the ceiling in the hopes of quieting everybody else. Thankfully, they got the clue as soon as they saw him withdrawing his weapon.

"Everybody settle the fuck down at once!" he screamed, never lowering the submachine gun to let everybody know he meant business, "We have to keep it together if we're going to make it out of this mess alive!"

He then looked over to both Marvin and Lt. Monroe on one side, and then Sgt. Carlsen and Mayor Warren on the other before he spoke again, "To be bluntly honest, not everybody will probably make it through this ordeal alive. I have no doubt in my mind there will be casualties, but at the same time we're determined to make sure we can minimize the amount of people dying."

"It would be suicide-" Harry blurted out, only to be silenced by a throat-clearing sound and sharp glare from the steely-eyed S.W.A.T. sergeant.

Sgt. Foreman stood quietly as he waited for the voices to die down before he resumed his speech, "I understand all of your concerns perfectly well, but we don't have much choice.

"Yes, we would be wandering around in a dark maze and have no idea of what might be lurking down there, but it's a risk we're just going to have to take if push comes to shove.

"Our plan would be to gather up the survivors into groups of six to eight with one or two armed officers for every group. From what I understand, a few of the civilians present have brought their own firearms, probably the only reason some of them have survived as long as they have. I will make sure there is at least one armed civilian in every group as well."

It was now Rita's turn to raise her hand, "Have you been provided with any useful maps of the city sewer system? We're going to need to know where we're at, or else we could end up far off in some unknown location or worse…"

Sgt. Carlsen again stepped forth, this time pulling out a manila folder with some scanned images, "A couple days before the outbreak, Chief Irons ordered his new secretary Heather to make a bunch of copies of the Raccoon sewer system's layout. For what reason, we have no clue, but since that fat pig has locked himself away in his cozy little office when we need him the most, she figured she might as well give them to us. Each group will receive a map that should point them towards the city outskirts and hopefully to safety."

"What's the other backup plan, Sarge?" Green asked.

The weary riot officer looked back to his cohorts surrounding him before he continued, "The last plan was meant to coincide with Plan B if we are forced to resort to it."

"Which is?" Lt. Monroe asked worriedly.

"There are still two extra vans down in the car park. Our plan would be to have a group of heavily armed survivors load up and try to reach the barricades located on the outskirts of town…"

"…and right into the crosshairs of a bunch of meathead weekend warriors that have probably been given the order to shoot anything on sight," Ford finished.

"Can it, Ford!" Marvin growled.

Ready to counter the pessimistic officer's claim, Sgt. Carlsen produced another piece of paper, "Indeed most of our radio equipment has gone down thanks to the repeated zombie attacks, but we've managed to compile a list of locations around the city that have functioning radio equipment to help us get through to the barricades. By this point, our closest and safest bet would be the city zoo."

"But that's quite a ways from here too and given our current circumstances, could be a damn near impossible task, even in an armor-plated van," Officer Scott said from the side, looking uneasily towards his friend Mayor Warren.

"I know George, but somehow or another, we'll have to do whatever we can to get through to them," Foreman sighed, rubbing his tired face.

The double doors suddenly came flying open and everybody jumped backward, thinking they were being attacked. They were about to draw their weapons, only to halt themselves when they saw it was one of their own.

A pudgy officer with short brown hair and a matching mustache came crashing through; his blue uniform shirt soiled by dried blood and grease, with an MP5 dangling around his neck. The man fell to his knees, only to be quickly helped up by Burchill and Castor.

"Beck, what the hell's going on?" Lt. Monroe demanded.

Quincy Beck panted heavily, his skin deathly pale like he had just seen a ghost. He continued to breathe heavily and finally shook himself free as he gathered his bearings.

"There's more of those bastards coming our way!" the panicked man cried out.

"What? How many?" the lieutenant demanded.

The officer finally slowed himself and caught his breathing before replying, "Too many of them…more than a hundred!"

Both lieutenants and the S.W.A.T. sergeant looked to each other with mouths agape in horror.

"Oh my god…" Marvin gasped from behind them, sweat cascading freely down his mahogany skin.

Taking a few deep breaths of his own, Lt. Monroe took charge of the situation, "Alright, let's get ready people. Green, Scott, get Mayor Warren back to the library pronto!" he ordered the two officers who had initially arrived with the mayor, "The rest of you, be ready to hold our perimeter!"

"Looks like it's time for Round 3," Marvin sighed, slipping some fresh shells into his Remington.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake yawned loudly and shrugged his shoulders forcefully to keep himself awake.

It was a little after 8:30 by this time, but he was already feeling dead tired from standing around for over an hour doing next to nothing as he stood guard over the remaining civilians.

The atmosphere was still very tense as frightened survivors remained huddled in small clusters, chattering loudly about their own personal protection and what the officers were going to do about it. Small children were crying, adults wandered about aimlessly contemplating their situation, and elderly folks were practically confined to where they sat, unable to move due to their aches and pains. Everybody looked tired, filthy and grumpy.

"_Hard to tell what's more dangerous, being outside with those zombies, or stuck in here with a bunch of people ready to revolt?" _the hitman thought as he looked near the entrance to the adjoining lounge, where a middle-aged man argued loudly with Officers Jameson and Otis, the former keeping his hand over his mace, ready to draw when necessary.

Aside from himself and Officers Jameson and Otis, Ervin the farmer, Dillon the grungy youth, Elza Walker, Marco, that guy in the Raccoon Sharks windbreaker, whom he learned was named Gregg, Sebastian, Jason, rookie officers Kyle and D.J., and lastly Donald were the other people currently present whom he knew were carrying some kind of firearm and would be capable of guarding the others alongside him.

"_I hope they're still stable enough," _he told himself as he looked over to Donald, who sat on a cot with his arm wrapped protectively around his inconsolable wife and his shotgun resting at his side.

As for other people he knew, Denise and Samantha were hovering over one of the weapons crates, using it as a makeshift workshop as they went through a collection of herbs and were using a medical kit to convert the aforementioned plants into medicinal pills. With nothing else to do, Elza, Nick and Cassie soon joined them.

Seated on a cot near one of the bookshelves, Sherry sipped away at a bottle of water while conversing with Jason, who had taken over the responsibilities of watching over her while Jake stood guard. Strangely, the hitman spotted the same Asian-American woman in the red cocktail dress, again staring intently at the little Birkin girl.

"_Hope it's not somebody out to get her because of who her father is," _he thought as he looked towards the stairs, where Sebastian was writing something down in a small black book with the Umbrella symbol on it, probably a diary he assumed.

That was everybody he could think of at the moment. To his knowledge, Ace was still down in the cafeteria near his buddy Rock. Thinking of that made him wonder what conditions were like down there, if anybody had transformed yet or not. It was just another reminder of why he was so anxious to get out of there and continue with his mission.

"Hey Jake!" a youthful voice called out and he turned to see both Kyle Rawlings and D.J. approaching him.

"Oh hey, what's up?" the hired gun slightly smiled as the two rookies approached him.

"Eager to get the hell out of here, that's what's up," Kyle grunted.

"Man, I hope they figure something out soon," D.J. said as he carefully inspected his H&K VP-70 handgun, "I've only been on the beat for three weeks and I certainly didn't sign up for this shit. I thought my first few months on the job would be just filling out paperwork and issuing traffic tickets. I should've listened to my parents and went with the Oakhill Police Department instead."

"Neither one of you could've known this would happen," Jake replied as he carefully inspected the glasses-wearing rookie's uniform, his nametag giving out his last name as "Horner."

"Heh, be a good time to consider a career change once this is over with," Kyle added, "Culinary school is looking better with every passing moment."

"Don't think I can even dare to think about food right now," D.J. shuddered, remembering the way those zombies tore through their victims like they pieces of chicken.

A loud crack resounded from above, forcing everybody to look upward as dust spilled down from a weathered ceiling tile.

"What was that?" an unseen civilian blurted out.

Looking cautiously towards each other, the three men nodded and readied their weapons, Kyle and D.J. with their H&K VP-70's and Jake with his MP5.

"Everybody remain calm!" Donald shouted as he pumped his shotgun and aimed towards the ceiling, where the tile again shuddered violently beneath something heavy.

"Everybody, make your way towards the exits at once!" Officer Otis ordered.

The tile again shuddered and a large crack suddenly appeared, causing a few people to cry out in fright. Underneath another snap, the crack widened and many gasped as a set of claws punched through the old wood.

"Shit!" Kyle and D.J. blurted out in unison, their hands shaking and the pistols threatening to slip from their grips thanks to the moisture rapidly building up.

Jake remained perfectly still as he spotted the set of claws, displaying an almost superhuman patience as he kept his aim centered on that one particular tile.

With another powerful strike, the tile was quickly reduced to splinters and with the aid of its claws, a Licker flipped onto the adjoining ceiling area, rasping loudly in anticipation as it could sense the frightened townspeople beneath it, many of whom were spotting one for the first time ever.

This time however, the normally solitary creature was not alone.

One by one, three additional monstrosities flipped their way into the library, causing the people below to panic even further to the point where they were knocking each other over to get to the exits.

"EVERYBODY RUN!!!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Yes, I have left you with another cliffhanger…man I can be so evil at times! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

To anybody who has ever played through the "B" scenario on RE2, I am sure you remember that pudgy officer who accidentally shoots down the helicopter right? Quincy Beck, the officer who warns of the oncoming zombies, is intended to be that officer.

Well that's it for this entry and until then, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	24. Ch 23: Visions in Red

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Hello once again folks, the Metal Harbinger returns to bring you his latest installment of "Darkness Arises: Reborn!" I'm going to spare you a long-winded opening prattle and just get straight to business, my final words for the time being…On with the story!

Chapter 23: Visions in Red

Nearly everybody was in a panic as the four Lickers clung to the ceiling above them in the spacious library, hissing in anticipation as they sensed the fresh meat beneath them.

"Oh god…what should we do?" D.J. blurted out as he struggled to keep his gun raised, while at the same time fighting the urge to wet himself.

"Just shut up and stand your ground," Donald hissed as he kept himself in front of his wife and a few other terrified civilians with his shotgun trained upward. Ervin, Marco and Gregg flanked him from both sides, forming a protective barrier between the monsters and the civilians.

Jake could feel the tension chipping away at his concentration as he stood between D.J. and his fellow rookie Kyle, their weapons trained on the sinewy mutants. He could tell they were both frightened and wanted to open fire.

"Watch it, those things can hear you," he warned both men. He knew the monsters could sense them when Officer Otis dropped a clip from across the room, one of them rasping loudly in excitement.

Able to hear the creaking along the floorboards, Jake used the corner of his eyes to keep track of those familiar to him, watching as they carefully inched their way towards the nearest exits, aware of the creatures' ultra-sensitive hearing.

Sebastian looked at them as if he had been aware of their existence beforehand, trembling in fear, yet nowhere near the verge of mental breakdown like some inhabitants had been. The Umbrella employee inched his way along the bookshelf he stood against, his back hugged firmly to the uneven surface, looking back and forth between Jason and Elza. They all carried guns yet held their fire as they took in the other humans around them.

Jake grimaced as he felt the cool sweat trickling down his forehead, blinking it away as it got into his eyes. His heart thundered inside his chest, feeling like it would burst through his ribcage if he didn't calm down sooner or later. When he opened his eyes, he looked over to his right and saw a sight that wanted to make him scream aloud.

Nick Luster was part of the group of civilians guarded by Donald and the other gun carrying men, inching his way backwards and unknowingly, towards one of the heavy weapon crates.

_"No, damn it, no!" _the hired gun mentally screamed, but it was too late.

Taking a larger step backward, the college student felt his leg brush against the crate and jumped, tumbling over it and falling hard onto his back.

The loud clatter was the trigger they needed and with it, the Lickers sprung into action.

Reacting on instinct, Officers Otis and Jameson withdrew their guns and began firing wildly at the red-skinned beasts, who flipped around the shots fired upon them with relative ease.

Taking that cue, all of the other armed inhabitants raised their guns and opened fire in one deafening cacophony.

With no other choice, Jake joined in, firing wildly towards the ceiling, knowing he wouldn't risk hitting any innocent bystanders up there. Unfortunately, the air was already becoming heavily congested with gun smoke, combined with the dirt and plaster of the ceiling and shreds of paper from books hit by gunfire, making it difficult for him to get a clear shot at the rapidly darting demonic forms.

People were fleeing in different directions hoping to escape the creatures, some making their way towards the door leading to the lounge area, while others rushed towards the double doors that the hitman and his companions guarded.

One of the creatures clung to the wall above him and using his ears followed the sound of its clicking talons. Before he could open fire, a frightened man clipped his shoulder and threw his aim off, his bullet shattering a nearby vase.

"Son of a bitch," Jake grunted as he struggled to maintain his grip on the MP5, while at the same time trying to fight the man off, who had attempted to cling to him.

"Get off!" he shouted as the whimpering man refused to let go, jerking his arm violently as he pleaded and causing him to nearly drop his gun. With a final heave, he shoved the man against the double doors, which shuddered beneath his weight.

Shrieks of agony sounded from behind him and the assassin turned to find a woman being sliced into by a Licker that had dropped down from behind her, followed by an older man being disemboweled by another one of the creatures.

"Damn it!" Jake growled as he raised his gun but was forced to hold back, knowing he would risk hitting the fleeing civilians. Kyle and D.J. were in the same dilemma, finding themselves raising their guns, only to lower them as another human body rushed past, ignorant of those who were trying to protect them.

The rush of activity excited the Lickers as they scaled the walls at greater speeds, hoping to get closer to their intended meals. All the bullets being fired upon them only allowed them to get closer to the ground. Without warning, D.J. fired upon the lithe creature closest to him, enabling it to leap to the floor, until it was scared away by a volley from Jake's MP5.

One of the creatures leapt down from the western wall and landed gracefully on all fours, shooting out its tongue and impaling Ervin through the chest, whose sawed-off shotgun discharged upon his death and blew a hole through the head of another man pushing his way towards the double doors, spraying more blood onto the hitman.

Many other civilians would not be as fortunate as all of the Lickers moved like lightning, leaping back and forth between the walls and the floor, slicing away at whatever crossed their path, spraying blood, innards and limbs everywhere. Within seconds, most of the wooden floor was colored crimson. A few had even fallen from friendly fire as a result of the mayhem, cut down by those too panicked to steady their aim.

Jake raised his submachine gun and fired everything he had at the hideous freaks, catching one of them in its arm while it scaled the wall and sent it falling to the floor, breaking several bones upon impact. Seeing the monster writhing in pain, the hitman fired what was left of his current clip into its face, reducing it to ragged strips of crimson flesh.

Through all of the gunfire and screams, the hitman heard a voice call out from behind him.

"Everybody this way!" a man shouted, the same man who had bumped into him. He had managed to make his way into the main hall, unfortunately due to all the ruckus, his voice was barely heard, except only by those closest to the door.

"We've gotta get these people to the doors!" Jake hollered over to Kyle and D.J., who shouted something back to him that was muted by the booms of Donald's shotgun, the veteran cop inching his way towards them while his wife literally clung to the back of his shirt.

"Get her out of here!" the sergeant screamed as he noticed the armed men behind him. Nodding in unison, both rookie officers scooped the woman up from under her arms and dragged her towards the double doors, pleading for her husband the entire way.

"The doors are open!" Donald shouted to anybody who could hear him, "Get out of here now!!!"

More people had heard his command and rushed towards the now opened double doors, forcing the defenders to spread out as they passed through. Towards the back of the group, Samantha Russell had been running when she tripped over a hacked up corpse, landing hard on her knee and rolling onto her side, clutching her sore leg.

D.J. watched as the young woman collapsed and one of the creatures advanced upon her, before he halted it with a round to the side.

Hissing angrily, the monster somehow sensed the bullet came from the young rookie and zoned in on him, leaping against a nearby bookshelf and knocking its contents to the floor before avoiding another blast from Donald's shotgun, clamoring as it raced along the wall.

The spectacled rookie gasped as he noticed the creature bounding towards him and turned to run, only to find himself slipping on a slimy strand of human intestines and falling to the floor, his glasses slipping from his face as he landed. Dodging another shotgun blast, the Licker landed in front of the rookie and wagged its tongue in bloodthirsty anticipation.

"Get away from him!!!" Donald hollered as he pumped his shotgun again, only for it to click empty.

Due to his farsightedness, D.J. wasn't able to clearly see the Licker's eyeless face hovering over him, but he could feel the warm, rancid breath upon his skin, almost burning him like acid, and feel the wet saliva dripping onto him. All he could do was whimper in fear as he lay frozen in place.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The Licker shook violently as three 9mm rounds pelted its back. Sensing the human behind it, it turned its attention to where Kyle Rawlings stood, fumbling through his pockets for a fresh clip.

"C'mon, c'mon," the rookie muttered as he felt around for anything he could find, smiling as his fingertips graced the cool steel of a fresh clip waiting for him.

BL-BLAM!!!

Another blast rang out and the Licker found itself thrown violently against a nearby bookshelf, its throat ripped open by a round of buckshot.

Turning to the source of the blast, the survivors found Jake standing before them with his smoking shotgun in hand, ejecting the spent casing.

Shaking away the ringing in his ears, D.J. felt around the gore-stricken floor before feeling the metal frame of his glasses and snatching them up, hastily wiping the blood away from his lenses. When he was able to see clearly again, he gasped upon taking notice of the dead Licker lying next to him and then over to the black-clad man standing guard over him.

"Th-Thanks!" the rookie blurted out.

"No problem, just get the hell outta here," Jake replied as he pumped his shotgun and fired another blast.

"Jake, you'd better get moving too!" Donald ordered, pumping his shotgun and firing another blast, catching one of the beasts in its shoulder and causing it to shriek horribly in pain and anger before finishing it with another blast to the back of its head.

"No, you need all the help you can get!" Jake retorted, firing another blast that caught the remaining Licker in its foot, ripping off its talons. With the monster crippled, Kyle raised his gun and fired the killing round into its exposed brain.

With all of the monsters dead, the hitman breathed a heavy sigh of relief, looking over only to receive a sharp glare from Donald.

"You've got some nerve disobeying an order like that, boy," he scolded.

"Hey, you can yell at me later. Right now, you're going to need to rely upon us 'civvies' too if you want to get through this mess," Jake grunted and proceeded to walk away, stopping to look over his shoulder one last time, "Just because some of us don't have a badge doesn't mean we're worthless."

"Whatever, just shut up and get into the foyer now!" Donald snapped, pointing toward the opened double doors.

Stepping into the main hall, all of the surviving refugees were bent over, most of them covered in the blood of those recently murdered by the Lickers. As before, they were frightened out of their minds, most of them either crying or shrieking in fear.

"This is all too fucking messed up!" Kyle shouted, his voice echoing through the grand atrium, booming so loudly everybody focused on him and not the gunfire and screams coming from outside.

Jake pushed his way past some cowering townspeople and looked down over the railing towards the double doors, where he noticed the repeated flashes happening right in front of the windows, almost as if those wielding the weapons had their backs right against the glass.

_"Shit, are those freaks this far along?" _he mentally asked, noting some rapidly moving silhouettes darting back and forth before the tinted windows, which he hoped were those of humans and not more of those Lickers, tightening his grip on the SPAS-12 at the thought of the reptilian demons.

"Get inside! Fucking get inside now!" he heard a panicked voice cry out followed by the ear-splitting chatter of an assault rifle.

A larger explosion suddenly rang out, drowning out all the other weapons and startling the other inhabitants out of their thoughts, making them focus on the double doors and wondering if the zombies, or whatever was out there, were closing in.

Another large boom resonated, like it must have been from a grenade launcher rather than a shotgun.

"Ben, get that door open now!" the same voice called out; "Mitch, Parker, lay down some fucking cover fire goddamn it!" the unseen officer ordered.

The doors practically exploded as a blood-drenched S.W.A.T. officer kicked them open, followed closely by another riot officer and a beat cop, both falling on their asses as they stumbled down the short flight of stairs before the entrance.

More desperate survivors would soon pile through, practically falling on top of each other as they sought shelter from their assailants outside, it would continue until the last officer backed his way inside, raising his grenade launcher and firing one final explosive canister into the zombies that sent his colleagues leaping backwards to avoid the whoosh of flames that followed.

The double doors leading to the station's west wing soon came flying open and Jake watched as Lt. Branagh, Lt. Monroe and Sgt. Foreman, along with another small group of officers, came rushing through to see what all the commotion was about. By then, two of the riot officers were already throwing themselves at the front doors and using all their strength to hold them shut.

"Get some fucking chains now! We have to shackle these doors!" one of the riot cops called out, whom Jake recognized as the voice of David McGraw, watching as the man was nearly knocked to the floor by the force of bodies piling up against him.

"Dallas, Cannon, how many of those things are out there?" Lt. Monroe asked approaching two wheezing riot officers crumpled over the fountain.

"Too goddamned many, LT," one of the men replied, "Those bastards overran us!"

The civilians all began to mutter worriedly amongst themselves at the revelation, many of them already giving up hope.

Even Jake found himself swallowing hard at the news.

He knew most of the officers didn't seem to know what they were doing when it came down to dealing with the living dead, and he even watched how quickly the rest of the city had fallen, yet it still overwhelmed him.

Everybody jumped as the double doors rattled again and the moans of the living dead filtered through. Hungry zombies pressed against the windows clawing away at the bulletproofed surface with furious vigor, sensing the living humans trapped inside.

"Get those shackles now! We don't have much time left!" David shouted again, his rifle clattering from his grasp as he was nearly knocked to the floor by the violent crash. Some of the others sensed his urgency and ran over to help him and the other officer reinforce the doors, which had shown a surprising resilience against the mass of zombies pushing against it from the other side.

Jake holstered his shotgun and searched his pockets for any remaining MP5 ammo, breathing a sigh of relief as he found a clip, his last one. Eagerly, he scooped it up and jammed it into the submachine gun, exhaling heavily as he pulled back on the gun's bolt.

He mentally pictured the zombies breaking in and tearing a path of devastation through the officers, wondering what he would do if such a situation arose. It proved little comfort when two officers came rushing in with several sets of chains and began wrapping them around the door's handles, applying one of many padlocks.

The doors continued to shake violently, but for now it appeared they wouldn't give in to the mob pounding away at them from the other side.

"I don't like the looks of those doors," Lt. Monroe shouted as the chains rattled under the force of advancing zombies, "We'd better make for higher ground!" he said motioning towards the emergency ladder.

With a collective nod of affirmation, all of the officers made their way over for the emergency ladder and began scaling it one by one, Mayor Warren revealed to be among them. When the last officer had hefted himself over the railing, it was then that David pushed the button to raise the mechanical ladder.

Having found temporary shelter on the higher level, only now did the officers allow themselves to collapse against the walls and railing, sullying the once pristine surfaces with the blood covering their uniforms.

"They're all dead sir…" reported one of the officers who had removed his ballistic helmet, a Caucasian man with his dark hair worn in a buzzcut, "…fucking tore through them…all of them…" he glumly trailed, staring down to the marble floor in shame.

"Relax Dallas, you did everything you could," Lt. Branagh spoke, walking over and placing an assuring hand on the man's shoulder as some of the others began to surround him and comfort him, David among them.

Jake again looked on in the background as the officers collected their bearings and mingled with the survivors, some of them accepting mixed herbs and pills gathered by Samantha and Cassie.

Aside from the two aforementioned women, he was also keeping a close eye on the other faces he was familiar with, including Jason and Nick, who socialized quietly amongst themselves, soon joined by Dillon and Denise. Elza was over chatting with an older officer, whom he assumed was the uncle she had mentioned earlier. Donald still held his wife closely, while Mayor Warren stood by looking nervously back and forth between two officers, inquiring about the safety of his daughter. Sherry was also present, and by now, had taken notice of Sebastian as one of her father's co-workers and was currently in the middle of conversing with him, all the while the woman in the red dress looked on from a distance.

"_Who the fuck is that woman?" _Jake asked himself again as he stared intently, noticing she carried a Browning HP in plain sight. It was something that kept him holding his gun nearby, ready to cut her down if she tried anything funny as he carefully looked over to some of the other civilians whose names he hadn't learned, wanting to see if she harbored interest in any of them.

The woman tried her best to act normal, but the hitman smelled something fishy and cautiously took a step towards her, careful not to alarm her as he walked towards the railing, acting interested in the zombies still pounding away outside.

"They better get us out of here soon. I don't know how much ammo we have to hold off all those freaks out there," Jake spoke to her, wanting to let her know she wasn't as hidden as she thought.

"I agree," she spoke in a sly purr, looking over to him and nodding quietly before, "It is too dangerous to stay here. I'm hoping they can get us airlifted somewhere if possible."

With a nod, she retreated to a corner, finally taking her gaze away from Sherry and Sebastian.

For now, he was interested in keeping Sebastian alive, knowing it could possibly boost his chances of finding Birkin.

Who knew if he was telling the truth about not knowing where the shady scientist was or not? Having an Umbrella ID card, he could probably get him access to all sorts of classified areas no civilian could, not even Birkin's own daughter.

As for Sherry, she was just a kid and didn't need anything to happen to her. Jake would do whatever he could to stop that woman if he felt she would threaten the preteen girl.

All of the remaining officers had huddled together in the mezzanine's opposite corner, where Sgt. Foreman pulled out a map and proceeded to explain their primary escape plan, along with their secondary options that were meant to coincide.

"Are you crazy?" David blurted out, "With all due respect Sarge, don't you remember what happened when those people tried escaping through the kennel and never came back? How can we be certain the sewers are even safe from all this bullshit?"

A few of his colleagues nodded in agreement, "And to drive through the streets trying to reach the barricades? Do you remember what I told you from Bridgette Aiken's encounter when she and a group of people tried leaving the city? The soldiers started shooting at them! How can we be certain they wouldn't shoot us where we stand?" the riot officer said, voicing a concern held by many of the civilians present.

"We really have no other choice, McGraw," Sgt. Foreman retorted, letting it be known he stood firmly by his decision and would not cave to pressure. The grizzled veteran stopped himself when he noticed the civilians staring at him and lowered his head, speaking to his subordinates in hushed tones.

One of the other survivors, an airport employee named Connor, inched along the railing, hoping to listen in on the conversation. He was inching closer and closer, until he was cut off by a sharp glare from Lt. Monroe.

"Hey, we have a right to know about this too!" the man protested, until Officer Ford brandished his Mossberg, a warning to back off.

Jake and the other bystanders watched as the officers quietly plotted their strategies, sharp movements indicating there was some dissension within the group, with Lt. Branagh and Sgt. Carlsen doing whatever they could to keep the peace.

As the hitman's gaze turned towards the lower levels, more gunfire rang out and everybody found themselves raising their weapons ready to fight. The repeated blasts were soon followed by the shatter of glass and human screams.

"That came from inside!" Aaron shouted, arousing worried stares from both his colleagues and the civilians.

Staring worriedly towards the single door leading to the east wing, Sgt. Foreman pulled out his radio, "Kerr, Hallsworth, Leopold, anybody, do you copy?" he shouted into the receiver, hoping somebody was still alive down in the cafeteria.

Dying screams and undead moans were the only reply, until a lone shotgun blast rang out.

The other officers stared towards one another as Sgt. Foreman continued shifting through the radio frequencies of the officers posted there, hoping someone was still alive. He continued until a female's shriek pierced the air.

"_Get away from me! Get away from me!" _a panicked woman's voice pleaded from the other end, followed by some more hollow groans from zombies infiltrating the makeshift infirmary.

"Somebody's still alive down there. We have to help her!" an auburn-haired riot officer shouted to his colleagues.

"_Sgt. Foreman, if you're there we need help down here in the basement!" _another voice called out over the radio, followed by the chatter of machinegun and shotgun fire, followed by more ragged hisses from Lickers, _"More of those red bastards are inside!"_

The grizzled sergeant exhaled deeply before replying, "Shepherd, I copy. Hang tight, I'm rounding up a team right now!"

"_Hurry it up! We don't have much time left; those bastards have already killed Antrim, Ramirez and Borden. It's down to just me, Nash and Haller, that's it, and Haller's hurt pretty bad!"_

"Okay, we're on it! Just hang in there!" Foreman replied.

"Damn it, those things are everywhere!" Fred groaned.

"Looks like we're going to have two rescue missions on our hands," Sgt. Foreman grunted, looking to Marvin and Lt. Monroe before turning to the others, "Alright, I'm organizing teams for each objective."

Focusing specifically on his S.W.A.T. officers he started running down the names, "Taggert, Wesley and Lee, I want both of you to check out the cafeteria," he ordered before looking to some of the uniformed officers, "Take Groening, Castor, Burchill and Sears with you."

"I will be tagging along as well," Lt. Monroe said stepping up and slinging his shotgun over his shoulder.

There were nods of affirmation before he then turned to David and a few others, "McGraw, Dallas, Cannon, Montoya and Cutsforth, you'll be coming along with me," the sergeant spoke before turning his attention to Officer Muntz and that Diane woman Jake recognized from earlier on, "Muntz and Witherspoon, I want both of you to come with us. We're going to back up Shepherd's team!"

"Wait, why me?" Harry suddenly blurted out in his whiny, on edge tone, "I'm not trained for this stuff!"

"And neither were the rest of us!" Foreman snapped, "We're going to need somebody to drive the escape van. Now quit your bitching and start moving!"

With their plans laid out before them, Rita ran over and pushed the button to lower the emergency ladder. Sgt. Foreman and Lt. Monroe were the first to approach and as the senior riot officer was about to pull on his ballistic helmet, he turned to address some other uniformed officers.

"We can't risk the possibility of those zombies breaking into the main hall and getting to the civilians, which is why we also need some people to get over and board up the doors.

"Both of our teams know of an alternate way to get back up here, through the emergency stairwell located outside the Homicide Division offices, which then leads up through a series of halls and then the chief's waiting room that will lead us back here," the sergeant explained as he started to climb the ladder.

"Right, I'll get some people on it," Marvin replied as he watched the other officers begin to descend and then make their way towards the east wing entrance.

As soon as the last officer disappeared through the door, the lieutenant sprung into action, pulling out his radio to reach any nearby air units.

"All available air units, do you copy?" he spoke into the shoulder-mounted radio, releasing the call button to listen for any available transmissions.

"_This is Falcon 2, I copy," _the pilot's tinny voicecalled out, _"I don't see any survivors on the ground, Lt. Branagh."_

"Strid, how far are you from the R.P.D.? We have civilians here needing to be airlifted over to the airport?" Marvin spoke.

"_Not too far, but I haven't been able to get in touch with Steiner over at the airport. Kingman, I don't know what the hell's up with him. I'm not liking the looks of it," _Officer Strid replied.

"Damn it," Marvin hissed before speaking into the receiver, "Alright, well just get over here as soon as you can."

"_Got it, I should be over in ten minutes! Over and out."_

Marvin turned to address his colleagues, "Alright, you heard the man. We need to get moving. Dixon and Scott, I want both of you to escort the first group of survivors to the helipad. We only have room for a maximum of eight passengers," he spoke turning his attention to Mayor Warren, "Mayor, we're seeing to it that you are to be on the first flight out of here."

"But what about my daughter?" the city official asked, "I can't leave without my poor Beverly!"

"Mayor Warren, your safety is our top priority and we need to get you out of here as soon as possible," Marvin continued.

"No, I can't just up and leave without her!" the mayor protested, "Where is she in the first place? I told Brian to look after her! I demand to speak to him immediately!"

"But what about the rest of us?" Connor asked, joined by a woman who wore a dark blue windbreaker with neon yellow reflective stripes upon it, similar to the one airport employee Wayne Compton wore.

"It is to our knowledge that both of you work with the city airport and you too will be on the first flight out of here," Marvin explained as he turned to the other uniformed officers, "We're also going to need at least one officer onboard for the first trip out."

"Count me in!" Officer Green said stepping forth, "I have a pilot's license and can get them out there if needed."

"How big are we talking?" Marvin asked, in reference to the kind of planes he was used to flying.

"Been a few years since the Air Force," the officer replied, "Never flown anything bigger than an F-16 or a crop duster, but I'm sure I could manage if given the opportunity. My instructors always aid I was a fast learner."

"And who the hell else is gonna be on the first flight outta here?" Jason demanded.

"Yeah, we've got a lot of people in here and even more of those freaks outside wanting in. You can't just leave us here all at once!" Dillon said stepping forth forcefully, only to be met by Officer Edward.

"Sir, you need to calm down. We know this is a difficult situation, but we can't-" Elliott started only to be met by a gun to the face.

"Fuck you asshole!" the young man shouted, which prompted the other officers to raise their guns.

"Sir, you need to stand down at once!" Marvin ordered, keeping his gun trained on the young man. It was evident in his body language that he was not comfortable with pointing a gun at a civilian.

"This isn't fair to any of us, so why the hell should we stand down?" another man shouted.

Once again, tensions were reaching their boiling point and the officers all stood with their guns drawn, twitching nervously as they fought back the urge to open fire on a group of people they knew were on the verge of attacking them.

"We're not going to warn you again, all of you please stand down at once!" Marvin repeated, the beads of sweat trailing down the sides of his head.

A loud crash sounded from above as bits of multicolored glass rained down from the exploding stained glass window.

"What the hell?" Sgt. Carlsen shouted as he shielded himself from the falling shards.

Another one of the Lickers had come crashing through the window and was currently clinging to the wall along the shattered window.

"Oh shit," Marvin blurted out, turning his gun towards the red monster, "Fred, George, get the mayor and the others out now!"

"C'mon Mayor," George Scott said, grabbing the older man by his blazer's sleeve and dragging him towards the door at the opposite side.

"No, I can't leave without my daughter!" the man again protested.

"We'll come back for her. I promise!" George said as he dragged the civil servant along, followed closely by Fred and the two airport employees.

The Licker perked its head up at the sound of the footsteps pounding away at the tile floor, but was halted by the cocking of numerous weapons before it could act.

Marvin and the other officers began firing away at the skinned creature, their bullets pelting away at the stone surface around it.

"Get down!" Jake shouted to some nearby refugees as he raised his MP5 and squeezed the trigger, firing a torrent of hot metal at the beast, managing to catch it with a few shots, angering the beast.

Despite its lack of eyes, the Licker also possessed enhanced sensitivity towards bodily heat signatures, which along with its ultra-sensitive hearing compensated for its blindness. This one in particular, had already encountered a few other humans and knew of the destructive capabilities presented by their firearms, showing it had some concept of strategy within its primitive thinking mind.

Screeching its murderous intent, the monster leapt downward towards the human with its arm drawn back.

Before he could open fire, Jake felt himself being pushed from his feet, followed by a wet slash.

Landing on his side, the hitman turned to find Sebastian standing over him, looking down with a strange blank expression, until the corner of his mouth cracked open and a stream of blood dribbled from the opening. Without a word, the man fell forward, prompting Jake to rise to his feet and catch him; it was then that he noticed the three deep gashes running diagonally across his back, gushing blood at an alarming rate.

"_He threw himself in harm's way for me…" _Jake thought as he lifted the wounded man to his feet and tried to drag him away.

The Licker perched itself on the railing and prepared to strike Cassie with its tongue, until it was warded off by a shotgun blast from Donald. It leapt into the air and clung to the wall beneath the shattered window, until it was dropped by another blast, this time from Officer Ford. With the beast falling crippled to the floor, it took another blast to obliterate its cranium.

"Help me damn it!" Jake called out as he dragged the wounded Umbrella researcher along the floor. Seeing the man's condition, Officer Edward ran over and threw Sebastian's other arm around his shoulders.

"Get him over to the waiting room, quick!" Marvin shouted as he and a pudgy, mustached officer cleared a path through the throng of frightened civilians, leading Jake and Officer Edward over to a door at the opposite corner of the spacious corridor, blood squirting all around them as they dragged the helpless Sebastian towards the door now held open by the pudgy officer. Samantha followed close behind with her medical kit, ready to treat the wounded man.

Jake and the officer led Sebastian over to a bench near the receptionist's desk carefully laying him onto his side as Samantha knelt down and fed the wounded researcher a few hemostat pills before applying some first-aid spray to the wounds on his back, which did little to alleviate his suffering.

"This looks bad," Samantha ruefully reported, "It looks as if that monster slashed through several vital arteries, no matter what we do for him, I don't think he has much time left."

"Shit," Marvin grunted as he turned to his colleagues, "I guess all we can do right now is make him as comfortable as possible."

"Don't…worry…about me…" the wounded researcher weakly rasped, grimacing as he felt the spray seeping into his burning wounds.

"Nonsense, we're going to do everything we can for you," Samantha replied as she wiped streaming globules of blood away from his clotting wounds, her latex gloves almost completely red from the crimson liquid. It was obvious she was fighting a lost cause, but wanted to do whatever she could to put the man at ease in his final moments of life.

The same boom of wood on wood resounded from the main hall as a set of doors were forced open, followed by the moans of the undead and the discharging of numerous firearms.

"There's more of those things, and they're coming from the west wing!" a voice called out to Marvin and his colleagues.

Marvin looked over to Officers Edward and Beck, and then over to Jake and Samantha, "Watch over him. We're going to help the others!" he said before drawing his sidearm and motioning for the other cops to follow him.

Sensing the cops had finally left the room, Sebastian summoned his strength and forced himself to roll over, almost falling off of the bench until he was caught by both Jake and Samantha.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, trying to force him back onto his side, but the researcher fought her off.

"Bullshit I'm going…to be alright…" Sebastian gasped before coughing up more blood. His sudden outburst was halted by his excruciating pain. He didn't cry out, but he did calm down long enough to stare at both people fearfully.

"Listen…" he whispered, motioning for his companions to lean in closer, "…that thing caught me…pretty bad. I know…I'm not going…to make it…out. Even…if I did…I still wouldn't live…much longer…" he spoke between labored wheezes.

"What do you mean?" Jake asked, staring into the researcher's watery blue eyes before looking down to the kneeling Samantha. If he wanted answers he would have to get them right now. "Is there something else we should know about?"

"Umbrella…" he muttered blinking rapidly, "…the company…I work for…"

"Yes, what about them?" the hitman inquired, hoping that he might be on the verge of getting some concrete answers.

"If they knew…I made it out…they…they'd…hunt me down…and…kill me…" he gagged before breaking off into a coughing fit. Samantha pushed down on his chest to steady his chest and made sure his head was rolled to the side so he would not choke to death on his own blood.

"Why?" Jake asked getting down to a knee so he could look the man directly in the eyes.

Maybe now he could get some more answers regarding the company's darker, grittier side, a possible greater insight into the company's true cutthroat nature they have managed to hide from the public.

"Tell me more," he continued.

Sebastian remained silent and slowly moved his head around, making sure nobody else was on hand, "I know too much…about what…really happens…behind closed doors…" He gulped heavily as he knew he was about to disclose classified information to some ordinary civilians. "They do illegal research…" he choked out, "…biological weapons. They experiment…on…living things!"

Samantha gasped in horror, "Living things? Just what do they experiment with?"

"Viruses…manmade viruses…" was all Sebastian could say.

"For what?" Jake added.

"Warfare…those greedy bastards…they only care…about making a damned big buck! They want…to sell them…to the highest…bidder! I found out…and wanted to go…to the…authorities…but they have…contacts all over…bribing politicians. None of them…could help me…not even the police. There could be a spy…in the building as I speak…looking for me. I can't trust the cops…only you…" he smirked painfully.

Weakly patting his side, Samantha pulled his coat open and found a small black book with Umbrella's logo hidden in his inside pocket; it was the same book Jake had seen him writing in earlier.

"My diary…take it!" he gasped, "It will tell you…everything…you need to know…about their dealings. Please, don't tell the others…it will endanger…them."

It was indeed a diary as he suspected, another possible break in his search for answers, something that could give him a look at the inner workings of the Umbrella facility. Security measures, figures of interest and more importantly, leads on Birkin. This was an item of great importance that he would have to guard with his own life at all costs. Samantha looked the book over before handing it to Jake, who shifted through the pages, finding the last entry was written just a few hours ago.

"Please…I know I'm not going to make it…either way. Just take it and get it…to whoever you can. This must get out…so those…bastards can pay…" Sebastian rasped, wanting to get out as much as he could before he passed on.

"What about Birkin?" Jake asked leaning closer to the dying man, "Tell me where I can find him."

The young researcher's face was white as snow and the sweat beaded across his forehead, joining together in one large puddle covering his face. He let out a shuddering sigh as he looked into the hitman's eyes.

"I don't know…if I can help you there," he sighed.

"What do you mean? Please tell me!" Jake half-shouted causing Samantha to jump back in fright.

"They probably…sent people…after him…" Sebastian groaned.

"Well where was he last? For his sake tell me so I can find him!" Jake demanded.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Sebastian asked, knowing the man wanted sensitive information only he could provide, stuff which could endanger his life as he knew it.

"Please," Jake asked, before Samantha placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Jake, I think he's told you all he knows," she pleaded, which fell on deaf ears.

"There is a chemical plant…near the city limits, but there is another way…through the sewers. I don't know where, but it's close. I was…never told…where it was," Sebastian explained before hacking loudly again, "The waste disposal plant…behind here…could be a possible lead…you would need."

"How do I get inside?"

"A medal…no…two medals…I don't know who carries them…" the researcher added before another crippling pain shot through his body and he began to thrash.

"We're losing him!" Samantha shouted, grabbing Jake by the shoulder and again trying to pull him back.

It was then that the dying researcher seized hold of the hired gun's wrist with a surprising strength, forcing Jake to look back into his eyes.

"I know my time is up…" Sebastian hissed, "…leave me here…quietly! I don't want to die…by the hands…of those bastards. Just…tell whoever you can…stop them…"

Sebastian Ramsey's head lowered one final time and with a weak sigh, he released his grip from Jake's wrist.

"Damn…" the assassin muttered, _"What the hell did he mean he couldn't help me with finding Birkin? Is there something I wasn't told about?" _he thought as he rose back to his feet and turned his attention to Samantha. _"Looks like all I have is this diary to tell me what I need to know," _he thought, carefully placing the small notebook into his pocket.

"Come on, let's leave him be," Jake said to the frightened woman, gently guiding her back into the lobby, _"Rest in peace, Sebastian Ramsey."_

"Right," she muttered, taking one final look at the deceased researcher before following after Jake.

Readying his MP5, the hitman made his way back into the main hall, where he looked over the railing to find several zombies sprawled out on the marble floor, lying in pools of their own congealed blood. Across from him, he watched as Sgt. Carlsen and Officers Ford and Schwartz, the latter being the lone beat cop who had made it back inside with David's team, firing away at a few zombies still wandering around below.

Marvin, Officer Edward and Officer Beck soon joined in and managed to drop the remaining zombies to the floor, last taking down a crawling zombie that had survived the initial barrage.

"Those bastards have made it this far," Sgt. Carlsen exhaled as he pulled out his radio and began speaking into it.

"We need to get those doors boarded up, pronto!" Marvin shouted.

"I'm on it!" Officer Beck replied, "C'mon, the Chief should have some extra boards lying around in that storage room of his," he said as Officers Edward and Schwartz followed close behind.

Jake stared down at the fresh kills dotting the lower floor, their inflected blood staining the once immaculate surface, even some of it had splattered onto the maiden statue at the center of the room. Everywhere he looked, there was blood, much more than he could ever have dreamed of seeing.

"_All the battles I've been in before were nothing compared to this," _he thought as he looked down upon the corpse of what had once been a teenaged girl, her pink t-shirt drenched from the crusted wound in her neck. Her glossed over eyes stared into his bluish-gray ones, haunting him with a soulless glare that saw nothing but violence.

The hitman then looked around at the other survivors present, civilian and police alike, wondering if the same fate would befall them.

"_No doubt I might end up having to put a bullet in one of their skulls at one point or another, hate to say it, but it's true," _he thought as he stared into their fearful faces and eyes displaying human, living hues of blue, green, brown and hazel, wondering how much time they had left, if any of them would make it out alive period?

Jake rubbed his tired eyes and looked down to the floor again, only to jump back in fright.

All of the dead bodies were still there, only this time, they looked human.

"What the fuck?" he whispered to himself, seeing the gray, rotted away skin tones suddenly reverted to their former colors.

Turning his attention to the survivors congregated on the balcony, he jumped again.

What had once appeared to be normal human beings now looked like the zombies, covered from head to toe in blood, their skin cracked and graying and their eyes now a sickly shade of grayish-white.

"_What the hell is going on here?" _his mind screamed as his pulse began to race.

"Jake?" Samantha's voice suddenly called out, "Jake, are you alright?"

Shaking his head violently, he turned to see the young woman standing next to him, grabbing a hold of his muscular arm, "Jake, are you alright? Please, say something!"

"Whoa, sorry about that," the hitman grunted, collapsing against the railing behind him, "I'm fine…I'm fine, it's just that I'm feeling under stress. I'm sorry if I scared you or something," he said, breathing heavily as he struggled to regain his breath. "I'll be alright, don't worry about me."

"Okay, just let me know if you need anything," the young lady replied as she moved out of the way for the returning officers, coming through the waiting room lugging around their boards and other equipment.

Jake forced himself to again look down towards the defeated zombies and then back towards the other survivors present.

"_What the hell was that?" _he asked himself, _"That had to have been a hallucination, but why? Is this stuff driving me insane already? That vision, I saw nothing but red, blood everywhere. Was it an omen of things to come? I need to get the fuck away from this place if I want to escape with my sanity intact, that's for damned sure."_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Author's Note: Alright, well that wraps up my latest installment of "Darkness Arises: Reborn."

In the scene where I have the officers make mention of the doors needing to be boarded up, that's my own little way of trying to explain why the doors leading to both wings are boarded up come the time of "Nemesis" and Jill's inability to reach through to the other sides.

Also, I don't think I've ever really taken the time to explain where I believe the station's cafeteria would be located, except to a select few. I would have had it located in the east wing hallway you first enter through the main hall from. I just figured I'd throw that out there seeing as how I find it unbelievable a station as large as the R.P.D. wouldn't have a cafeteria in it, nor would it be very believable to have it lacking bathrooms, locker rooms and a firing range either like I'd expect of a typical police station.

Alright, well I think that's pretty much all I have to say for the time being, aside from my usual closing…This is Metal Harbinger saying read and review and SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	25. Ch 24: On the Outside Looking In

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 24: On the Outside Looking In

Jake sighed heavily as he sat on the semi-circular front desk, letting his long legs dangle over the side and his feet kick against its mahogany surface, creating a rhythmic tapping that would have typically annoyed any other occupants present, yet was muted out by the pounding of hammers on wood.

Most of the remaining officers and a few civilians were gathered around the doors leading to both wings, using the planks they had managed to scrounge up from the storage room to bolt the doors shut. The zombies had now made their way inside and it was certain there were no survivors left to make it through.

_"At least nobody who knows of the route David and the boys were following," _he reminded himself as he looked upward towards the waiting room entrance.

Marvin had personally selected him to stand guard as he and the others worked. There had been no time to move any of the bodies and he could understand their tension. So far, none of the zombies littering the floor had risen to attack anybody.

Still, the hitman kept a vigilant eye over the shot up carcasses, remembering his encounters with those red-skinned zombies he had fought alongside the U.B.C.S. operatives.

Given the extra time, he decided to take an inventory of what ammo and supplies he had left.

At his side he held the MP5, carrying its final clip with nothing else in reserve, and had half of it already spent when the Licker that had killed Sebastian made its presence felt.

Aside from what was left in the fully loaded SPAS-12, he still had eight regular shells left along with a small box of "enhanced" Black Taurus rounds given to him by Joe Kendo that he had not yet had the chance to put to use, knowing he would need them for more powerful adversaries.

His S&W Model 629 revolver was fully loaded with two extra speed loaders remaining, another weapon that had saved him quite a few times in this ordeal and one he was determined to keep on his physical being until the end.

Both Berettas were still in the holsters of his utility belt, both loaded with at least three clips left behind. He had managed to find all sorts of ammo for both guns scattered around the city.

There was still one M-67 fragmentation grenade left from the line he had brought from the hideout, a decision that left him patting himself on the back, having made every explosive count.

Lastly, there were his combat knife and his katana, both weapons having served their purpose when needed. At this point, he would only use them as an absolute last resort, knowing he wouldn't last long with such weapons against an entire swarm of zombies or the more powerful adversaries like the Hunters or those giant spiders.

_"And I doubt I'm anywhere near finished with this place," _Jake told himself as he started to gather his weapons, _"Still gotta find my way through the sewers to get to that chemical plant Sebastian mentioned. Who knows what the hell is crawling around there."_

"Okay, I think we've got everything taken care of over here!" Officer Edward call over to the opposite side as one of the civilians nailed down the last board.

"Good, we're almost finished here," Marvin called back and then looked upward to the mezzanine, "Are things alright up there, Byrd?"

"So far, so good," Donald reported, "About as good as it can be…I guess," he said looking down to his wife and around to a few of the other civilians present, and then over near the waiting room entrance where that mysterious woman in red stood alone, looking down upon the workers. She suddenly jumped as the door opened behind her, whirling around with a Browning HP raised.

"Whoa, ma'am relax! It's just us!" the familiar voice of David McGraw called out, followed by him almost collapsing through the door. Levi Castor, Dustin Burchill and a baby-faced S.W.A.T. rookie of Asian descent named Parker Lee followed him, all of them visibly out of breath.

"David, what's going on? Did you get everything secured?" Donald asked, keeping a careful distance with his shotgun ready.

"Get everybody rounded up!" the riot officer choked out, "We have to get the people out of here right away. Those freaks are piling in and we're losing ground every second!"

By now Marvin was approaching the lowered emergency ladder, "What about the others you went with? Did they make it?"

David looked grimly towards his companions before turning to address the others, "We lost Montoya, Cutsforth and Cannon. Sgt. Foreman got hurt pretty bad by one of those tongue creatures too. If we don't get him some medical treatment soon enough…he might not make it."

"We lost Lt. Monroe too," Castor blurted out, attracting a few gasps from the other officers, "Him, Taggert, Wesley and Sears, all to those freaks."

"We managed to save the woman that we were after though," Officer Lee added, yet nobody seemed to take notice and he was left looking awkwardly to the others.

"How secure is the basement corridor?" Sgt. Carlsen demanded.

"For the most part, it's clear," David uneasily replied, "We got most of the main corridor cleared out. We don't know about the side rooms though, didn't have time to check."

"Fuck," the sergeant cursed as he turned to Donald and Marvin, the latter of whom had now made his way to the balcony. Sensing the urgency of the matter, Kyle, D.J. and the other officers began to surround the three men.

"He's right, we've gotta get everybody out of here now," Rita spoke.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Marvin turned to address those who were still on the lower level, "Alright people, gather whatever you need and let's get moving. We're getting the hell outta here!"

Just as the remaining lieutenant spoke his last word, the double doors leading to the library came flying open and an entire pack of zombies came pouring out, setting their eyes on the remaining survivors.

From down on the lower level, Jake watched helplessly as a few of the civilians gathered near the doors were quickly torn into by the ravenous horde. His blood chilled as he spotted a crimson-skinned sticking out like a sore thumb in the mass, moving faster than its counterparts as it made its way for Donald Byrd's wife Sylvia.

"Get away from her you bastard!" he heard the veteran officer call out, followed by a succession of shotgun blasts. A series of deafening bangs and bright flashes followed, muting out a lot of the commands shouted between the surviving officers and the screams of more civilians being torn apart. Gun smoke filled the air, making it difficult to discern who was who and more importantly, who was still among the living.

_"No time to sit back and ponder," _the hitman told himself as he quickly ascended the ladder, grabbing his MP5 and pointing it around before he dared to throw his right leg over the balcony's railing.

He nearly gagged as the smoke filtered through his nostrils and blinked away fresh tears as it burnt his eyes, but was able to make out a figure staggering towards him. Through the smoke, he was able to make out the stench of decay and fired upon the figure, knocking it backward.

The putrefaction soon overpowered the gunpowder and he looked to his left to see the line of zombies advancing upon him, some of them moving around the feast of a civilian that hadn't been fortunate enough to escape.

"Quick, get out of the way!" one of the officers called out.

He looked over to the right to see several of the officers along the railing with their weapons drawn, a few of them taking potshots at the zombies further away from the hitman. There were still a few other civilians standing around, frozen in place by fright and Jake was nearly knocked over as he bumped into Nick Luster and Cassie Ling.

"Get moving!" he shouted, forcefully pushing both of them towards the officers and thrashing his arms around to get whoever else he could moving towards the officers.

"Hey, get back here!" Jake heard one of the officers call out and turned to see a few of the civilians attempting to take off towards the waiting room.

"We have to help them!" he heard Sgt. Carlsen shouting over to Marvin.

"No, we still have people down there!" the lieutenant replied, motioning towards the officers who remained on the lower level, trying to fire upon the zombies so they could clear a path and get themselves safely to the higher level.

Jake ignored the bickering officers and pushed his way past, reaching the waiting room where Parker and D.J. stood guard at both sides of the entrance. Making his way inside, he saw that the fleeing civilians had been cornered by Officers Groening and Dixon.

"Hey, let us through! We've gotta get outta here!" Dillon hollered, attempting to tackle his way through the two uniformed men.

"We have to keep you together!" Officer Groening grunted as him and his colleague managed to keep the grungy man at bay, both cops then raising their guns to deter any other townspeople from trying to shove their way past them.

"Let them through!" a voice called out from the back.

Looking beyond the crowd of desperate survivors, both Aaron and Fred noticed David McGraw and Sgt. Carlsen both pushing their way towards them, flanked by the rookies D.J. Horner, Kyle Rawlings and Parker Lee. Others soon followed until the last surviving officer, Rodney Schwarz, slammed the door shut behind him. Knowing they were the last, Officers Beck and Elliott then ran over to the corner and shoved the ancient iron chest in front of the door.

The waiting room was now filled above its normal capacity, what was believed to be every single R.P.D. survivor crammed into the tiny room, people tripping over one another as they struggled to breathe in the confined space.

"People, if you wish to make it out of here alive, then you need to cooperate with us," Sgt. Carlsen harshly instructed, "We cannot have you running all over the place. You're only going to wind up zombie chow if you keep this up. You need to stick by us!"

"Then you need to move your fucking asses and get us outta here!" Jason Pierce angrily shouted, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from David McGraw.

"We still need to proceed out of here in a safe, orderly fashion," Sgt. Carlsen explained, "We are going to make our way out of here through the assigned route. Officer McGraw, please explain."

David took a position behind the receptionist's desk and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Alright, behind that door over there is a hallway and if you take the door to your right, you will be led into another hallway," the riot officer explained as he motioned towards the door to his right. He knew there were shorter people in the room who were nearly trampled under the sea of humanity and struggling to see around their taller companions, so he spoke as loudly as he could in case nobody could see his gestures.

"Once you've entered that hall, you will then see another door at the end, which leads to our outdoor emergency stairwell," he said, his tone darkening a little at the thought of innocents having to step outside, "You'll then haul ass down the stairs to the only available door. Once inside, you'll take another right and make your way through the door at the end of another short hall and then run like hell through the corridor to the stairs leading to the basement at the end. Once you've reached the basement, you'll await further instructions."

"That still sounds like quite a bit of ground to cover given our current 'situation,' don't you think, Officer?" Dillon laughed nervously.

David sighed, visibly annoyed by the sudden outburst, but maintaining his composure, "It's all we have at this point. I won't lie to any of you; I can't guarantee that the designated route will be free of any dangers. All we can do is cross our hearts and run as fast as we can."

"Well then that settles it," Marvin said cocking his sidearm, "Let's get moving."

Nodding to themselves, the officers put their plan into motion.

Hugging the wall near the hallway entrance, Officer Castor raised his submachine gun and listened for any sounds from the other side before pulling the door open. When no zombies were found waiting for him, he cautiously stepped into the narrow gray passage and waved his gun in both directions.

"It's clear!" he called out.

Officers Groening and Schwartz then nodded to one another, stepping into the hall and then approaching the next door. Repeating the same process as Officer Castor, the two men threw the door open and did a full sweep for any threats before calling out that the coast was clear.

"Alright folks, proceed along!" Marvin ordered the citizens and waited patiently for them to start entering the hall, all officers watching carefully as they moved along.

Jake waited until the people in front of him disappeared through the waiting room's back door and then made his way through with his MP5 raised. He was in a confined space that barely supported his muscular frame and he made his way into the adjoining hall as quickly as possible, one dominated by several flimsy-looking windows that made him uneasy.

The trip had been pretty quiet and uneventful so far, noting that the other civilians were doing whatever they could to minimize the amount of noise they made. Nobody knew how well either the zombies or any of the other monsters could hear them, but he could tell they weren't taking any chances, almost as if they were finally beginning to understand the innate survival instincts they often overlooked or took for granted.

Jake waved his weapon back and forth as he proceeded through the corridor, looking out the windows to make sure none of those Licker creatures were scaling the building's exterior. Large pillars of smoke obscured most of the surrounding outside areas, making it difficult for him to tell if they were any immediate danger or not.

Hollow moans still echoed from a distance and the occasional caw of a crow left him pointing his gun in whichever direction he believed it to be coming from. When he reached the door at the end of the hall, he noticed Officer Schwartz standing guard at the left as Officer Groening made his way outside.

The moans had grown louder and several of the occupants jumped as a trio of gunshots rang out.

"Quick, send them out now!" Officer Groening shouted.

Jake took a position alongside Officer Schwartz as the civilians bounded out the door, forgetting everything they had been told about proceeding in a "calm, orderly fashion," fighting for the chance to be the first through the door and one step further from their current predicament, even as the officers shouted orders for them to settle down.

"Alright, you're the last one out; I'm closing the door behind us!" Officer Schwartz spoke as the last refugee made his way outside, "Just keep up with-"

Multiple crashes came from behind and the scenery was soon swept over by a wave of black.

"Oh shit! Get going!" Officer Schwartz hollered as a murder of infected crows came crashing through the windows and set their sights on the officer and dark-clad hitman.

The ravenous birds moved at an alarming rate, dive bombing towards Jake and barely giving him any time to even reach the door. Instead, he was forced to raise his MP5 as he lay on the ground, firing a barrage in hopes of scaring off the flying menaces.

Only one of his rounds had managed to catch a crow, striking it in the dead center of its body and reducing its feathery form to a cloud of crimson mist. His other rounds had only managed to temporarily scare away a few of the attackers, scattering their feathers about as they flapped away swiftly.

Officer Schwartz wasn't faring too well as one of the crows had already embedded its talons into his shoulder and pecked away furiously at his collarbone.

"Get out of here!" he called out as he struggled to pull the malevolent beast away from him, while swatting away at other attackers with his free hand. "Quick!" he hollered as one of the crows dug its beat into his shoulder blade.

Nothing could be done for the man and all Jake could do was flee through the opened door and slam it shut behind him before any of the crows could escape and go after the other civilians.

Outside wasn't much safer. Zombies had closed in and were throwing themselves against the chain link fence erected around the emergency stairwell, trying to stick their hands through the small openings. Officer Groening stood alone near the first story entrance firing away at a few of the zombies that had managed to get their hands through.

"Hurry up! They're taking off!" the officer shouted as he stopped to reload his gun.

Jake wanted to stop and say something after witnessing what had happened to Officer Schwartz, but then figured maybe the man knew he wouldn't make it out alive after watching so many people perish around him, but wanted to do whatever he could to help those whom he believed possibly would survive. Come to think of it, he thought he had seen a small trail of blood traveling down the man's upper arm from beneath his sleeve just as he made his way inside.

_"No time to worry about that," _he told himself as he ran down a narrow hallway, which he now recognized as the one he had seen David McGraw run into after he had been forced to shoot Elijah Byrd. The blinds had been drawn on the windows of the adjacent office, but the hired gun could hear the sounds of wood splintering and large furniture being knocked over, suggesting the zombies were already inside.

At the end of the hall, Marvin waited for him, anxiously waving him forth with his gun in one hand, "C'mon, we're almost there!"

"Wait, what about Aaron and Rodney?" Rita asked, "We have to wait for them!"

"Officer Schwartz is dead," Jake reported, "Some of those crows got to him."

Rita immediately choked at the news and her cheeks turned a bright red, tears streaming from her eyes. Samantha was nearby and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, while Marvin just looked sullenly towards the floor.

"What about Aaron?" Officer Edward suddenly called out, standing near the night watchman's room.

"We have to go back for him!" Rita said.

Marvin exhaled deeply and turned to Jake and Samantha, "Alright, you two get downstairs with the others. We have to-"

The officer was halted as dirt and plaster fell from above, followed by the crumbling of ceiling tiles.

Before Jake could react, he was knocked backwards by a red blur and sent flying through the nearest window.

It all happened in a flash and before he knew it, the hired gun hit the pavement with a sickly thud.

Jake cried out as waves of pain thundered up and down his spinal column and much of the muscles in his back, so painful it hurt him to even wiggle his fingers and toes for the next few seconds. He was so distracted by the pain he barely made out the rattle of machinegun fire from above him, or the dying shriek of a menace he had come to loathe.

"Jake! Jake, talk to us! Are you alright!" a voice called out.

Grunting loudly, he forced his eyes open and rolled his head to the side, almost blinded by the light coming from the shattered window and was distracted by area below it. He realized he had only fallen a few feet, but the force at which he landed made it feel like he had just fallen twenty floors.

"Jake!" the voice shouted in a pleading tone.

Finally guiding his eyes towards the window from which he had fallen, he noticed David McGraw staring down upon him with his rifle in hand, flanked by Marvin, Samantha, Rita and Officer Edward.

"Are you alright? Can you move?" David demanded.

"I'll help him!" Marvin spoke and pulled himself through the window frame despite the others' protests. "C'mon, up you go!" the lieutenant grunted as he struggled to pull him back to his feet.

Jake cried out as the pain wracked through his body, but forced himself to move and shook away the glass shards from his clothing. As he looked down he finally took notice of the Licker that had tackled him through the window, its body riddled by automatic rounds and oily blood gushing from a single opening in its exposed brain.

"Oh god…they're coming! Hurry up!" Rita shouted.

Craning his neck to look over his shoulder, Jake witnessed another mob of zombies advancing upon them. He then heard more footsteps and looked ahead to see more closing in from around a corner. With the way Marvin was struggling with him there wouldn't be much time to get him inside and he raised his MP5, squeezing off four rounds before his gun clicked empty, his last clip.

"Don't worry about them, let's get out of here," Marvin grunted as he tried to force Jake towards the open window, where David and Samantha were both reaching down to help him.

With little time and little space, Jake remembered he had one grenade left and shoved Marvin off, reaching for it.

"What the hell are you doing? We have to get out of here!" Marvin angrily shouted and grabbed him by the arm, only to be shaken off.

"Get the others out of here!" Jake shouted as he unclipped the grenade from his harness.

"My authority as an officer-" Marvin started, but was cut off by the hitman.

"Fuck your authority!" Jake snapped, "Just get the others out of here! I'll be alright!"

Not wanting to continue an argument under such circumstances, the hired gun pulled the grenade's pin and chucked it towards the oncoming horde, prompting the others to hastily pull Marvin inside.

Whirling around on his heel, Jake bolted down the alley and withdrew his sword, just as the grenade went off behind him.

The group before him was smaller than the other, but there were still enough to be a threat, the lingering pain in his back and shoulders reminding him of that.

_"Should be enough space for me to move around them…I hope," _he told himself, gripping tighter onto the handle of his katana.

At the front of the group was a shirtless bald man who had most of his exposed skin ripped away and reached out one good arm towards the hitman, who easily weaved around him, followed by a few others he had been able to run past without much incident, until he encountered a bearded man in a soiled cardigan that lashed out towards him.

Bringing up his elbow, Jake caught the man in the throat and then forcefully threw him to the ground. The minor distraction had created an opening for another zombie to attack, forcing the hired gun to raise his sword just in time to lop off his attacker's forearm.

Lowering himself, Jake tackled his way past two more walking cadavers, causing a fresh wave of pain to course through his body and temporarily slowing him down. He then raised his sword to slash another zombie across the chest, an abrupt movement which left both of his shoulders throbbing afterward.

Forcing his way around the corner, he spotted a small, cabin-like structure connected to the station and rushed towards it, dodging his way around the few remaining zombies. Reaching the door, he twisted the knob only to find it locked.

"Son of a bitch," Jake hissed as he turned around to see the zombies shambling towards him.

It was another tight situation where he had to think fast, counting every millisecond in his head as the pendulum swung back and forth between life and death. His heartbeat again pounded with increased urgency as he again looked over his shoulder to see the zombies approaching while his mind pleaded with him to think.

Looking upward, he examined the cabin more closely and saw that it wasn't much taller than him. He could leap up and grab onto the rooftop's ledge and then use the nearby wall to assist him in his climb out of there.

"About all I can do," he whispered as he focused his strength into his good leg and propelled himself into the air, clutching onto the ledge and with a strained effort, began pulling himself upward, grunting loudly as the pain shot up and down his arms and shoulders. Shimmying further towards the wall, he kicked his good leg out and managed to gain a footing on the cement surface. He was starting to stabilize himself when he suddenly felt his right ankle being grabbed from below.

A large, balding man in a blood-drenched wife beater had latched onto the hitman's ankle with his meaty right hand and squeezed on it, pulling down hard on the bandaged limb. A warm sensation came from beneath the bandages, telling Jake the previously sealed wounds had reopened. Another tug made him cry in pain, but the gnashing of rotted teeth made him fight against it.

Using his good leg, Jake kicked backwards and caught the zombie in the middle of its forehead, but the excruciating pain weakened his attack and the monster was temporarily stunned, still keeping its iron grip on his ankle.

The other zombies were getting closer as he struggled, close enough he could already feel their rancid breath washing over him from several feet away. Summoning his remaining strength, the hired gun moved his foot until it was placed in the center of his attacker's forehead and used it to push himself to the structure's rooftop, kicking the undead man backwards into a crowd of his peers and listening to his bones crunch underneath.

_"I think I've just overstayed my welcome in this shithole," _Jake thought as he looked down into the parking lot on the cabin's opposite side, where several zombies that had once been members of the R.P.D. shambled about, their uniforms covered in the very blood that seemed to cover every living and once living individual in this accursed city.

Beyond the wall to his right was an alley where a few zombies loitered about, but then he spotted another opened iron gate in the distance. Seeing a closed dumpster positioned beneath him, the hitman leapt down, the loud clunk of his weight striking the metal surface attracting their attention.

_"Only problem now is, where the hell else is safe enough for me to catch a breather around here?" _Jake thought as he made his way towards the gate and onto another street populated by several packs of zombies, yet wide enough for him to easily run past them. He was about to take a left into a nearby alley, until another shambling pack of the ravenous cadavers took notice of him through their glossed over eyes and commenced a fresh pursuit.

Looking at everything around him, he had to ask himself _"Was there any safe place left in this city?" _

He had now just witnessed the R.P.D.'s attempts firsthand at trying to keep a supposedly well-fortified structure safe and they had failed miserably. Finding himself literally knocked out of the aforementioned building, he was now left to fend for himself. By now, they had probably assumed he was dead.

In some senses him being alone was both a good and bad thing.

It was good in a sense that they were now out of his way and he was free to carry out his mission uninterrupted, but it was also bad because they could have provided him with some much needed backup and a possible way out of town.

_"If there even is a mission left to complete," _he reminded himself, once again wondering if this Birkin guy was even still alive by this point. _"I wonder if it would still count if one of those zombies tore his throat out, not like Big Brother's watching me."_

Quitting wasn't something that he believed in and he was determined to find out regardless of what could have already happened to his target. There was too much riding at stake for him to just give up and put a bullet in his own brain.

_"If the bastard financing this little 'endeavor' of mine tries pulling out on his end of the bargain, don't think I won't track him down and rob him of every last cent of his and leave him with a nice little lead souvenir embedded in his forehead," _Jake smirked as he turned left onto another street that had been mostly blocked off by a jackknifed fire engine. At the far left of the street was a sedan that had been crushed like a soda can, but could offer enough room for him to climb up and get to the other side.

"Worth a try," he muttered before letting out a yawn, _"And it better be quick or else I'm going to pass out right here." _The hitman then rubbed his growling stomach, _"Truly sad when I can think about food at a time like this."_

Running over to the crushed car, Jake gripped the side of the fire truck and carefully pulled himself onto the crumpled hood and was about to step onto the rooftop when the engine's blood painted, spider webbed windshield shuddered from his right, prompting him to reach for his sword.

Nearly drawing the blade from its sheath, he stopped himself when he finally got a better look at the inhabitant from beneath the dried trails of blood.

Inside, a decaying former firefighter swiped madly at the air in front of him, guided by scent alone as blood from a deep head wound obscured the former rescue worker's vision. A seatbelt held the former human in place, but with the force of his thrashing, the hired gun didn't know how much longer it would hold him and he knew he would be screwed once the man broke through the glass.

Taking his attention away from the zombie fireman, Jake looked at the street beyond the totaled fire engine, which now looked like a junkyard thanks to all the smashed up cars that had been thrown into awkward angles and into each other, trapping its occupants in a tight space that left them tripping over each other.

Several more zombies staggered about beneath him, corralled within the jagged, metallic circle. They could smell the warm meat above them and began clawing for the sky with the vigor of a school of sharks that had just smelled blood in the water. He would have to somehow go above the former humans and carefully scanned the totaled cars for some form of improvised path he could take.

"_Well Jake, looks like it's time to do like you see in all those action movies, only you're not being paid to do your own stunts," _he thought as he looked over to the delivery truck that had plowed head on into the fire engine. It would provide a higher vantage point and determine a greater course for him to take.

Reaching over towards the engine, the hired gun reached his foot over and gained a foothold on part of the delivery truck and with a grunt, pulled himself over and then up onto the cab's rooftop.

Looking down he saw a crumpled green muscle car with a black hardtop whose door had been torn open, evidenced by horribly shredded severed arm that somehow maintained its death grip on the door's handle. Next to the muscle car was a steel blue pickup truck with a lawnmower anchored down in the cargo bed, and in front of that, a minivan that had been shoved into its front end by a red hatchback.

The vehicles weren't very high off the ground, meaning the zombies could easily reach over and yank him down, so he would have to watch his footing and stick close to the buildings they had been forced against.

Taking a deep, Jake carefully lowered himself onto the hood of the muscle car to avoid aggravating his injured leg. He winced as he listened to the metallic buckling beneath his feet, like he expected the hood to give way beneath him, but quickly shrugged off the feeling and made sure there were no zombies nearby to reach over for him.

With another deep breath, the hitman walked down for the hood and then reached over towards the pickup truck, stretching his leg over until it was inside the cab and then used his long arm to reach over for the lawnmower, hoping to use it as an anchor. Taking a small leap, he grabbed onto the mower, but felt himself pulled backwards by the centrifugal force and flailed his remaining arm to steady his wobbling body until he stood upright.

"That was close," Jake gasped as he tried climbing over the lawnmower. Loud scratches on metallic surface caught his attention and he looked down to see several zombies already pressing against the truck, reaching towards him with their misshapen yellow fingernails.

"Sorry, no dessert tonight," he spat, climbing onto the truck's roof and then leaping onto the minivan's hood, being careful to avoid the jagged glass from its shattered windshield. Taking another heave, he pushed himself onto its rooftop, yet stumbled as he felt the vehicle being shoved violently beneath him.

The zombies were growing desperate and threw themselves against the van, hoping to somehow knock him down to the ground. Jake had to brace himself against the brick wall behind him as the vehicle shuddered from below, careful not to slip and find himself sandwiched between both. He looked upward to see no bars above for him to grab on and no fire escapes he could climb up to escape his current predicament. Ahead of him, the red hatchback was within jumping distance, prompting him to take another deep breath.

"_Don't have much choice," _he thought to himself as he leapt from the minivan's hood and onto the red hatchback, the crunch of metal echoing beyond the enclosure and the fresh wave of pain shooting up his injured leg.

"Fuck!" Jake screamed as the crippling sensation paralyzed the rest of his body, crumpling as it fell to the ground.

The zombies sensed their wounded prey and shifted their attention away from the van, converging upon him in their shambling gait, their strides seeming longer and faster than what they may have really been.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Jake desperately reached for his Berettas, pushing backward with every swipe at his holsters as the zombies converged, until he felt his bottom brushing against a wooden plank that had fallen onto the street. Forgetting about his guns, he reached for the piece of lumber and pulled himself back to his feet, grimacing as he fought to shrug away the pain.

Back on his feet, right away he reared back and swung the plank as hard as he could into the face of an auburn-haired woman that had gotten further ahead of the pack, a trail of her blood following as he sent her tumbling to the side with a busted skull.

"_Just a little further," _he thought to himself as he saw the last wall of cars behind him. A moan came from his left and he turned to see a young man with a camera dangling around his neck stumbling towards him on one good leg. With another swing of his blood-drenched plank, Jake permanently ended the former human's misery.

Tossing the bloodied lumber to the ground, the hitman now focused on making his escape and ran towards the blockade of twisted metal barring him from freedom. Grabbing onto the rearview mirror of a tow truck, he pulled himself up onto its hood and then carefully climbed over to a nearby jeep before leaping out of the back and then touching down on the other side.

Having created some space between himself and the zombies, Jake allowed himself to collapse to one knee, letting out a long overdue sigh of relief.

"Goddamn…that's just fucking messed up," the hitman muttered, his voice barely audible beneath the moans and clangs of zombies beating against the cars holding them back.

Pain still lingered in his leg and he still felt the warm sensation of fresh blood beneath his bandages, signs telling him that he needed to find a safe place where he could relax for a few hours. Slowly pushing himself back to his feet he started walking down the street, withdrawing his Berettas as a precaution.

Coming to the end of the street, he hugged the exterior wall of an internet café and peeked around the corner. A lone zombie stood in the center of the street, wobbling in place with its head lowered.

The sight looked almost harmless, but Jake had learned the hard way from his time that when one zombie loitered in one area for too long, there would soon be more to follow. Not wanting to attract attention from those who could be nearby, the hitman withdrew his katana and made a mad dash towards the zombie.

Running as fast as he could, he raised the sword above his head and by the time the zombie could react, he brought his blade down and sliced off its head.

Flicking the congealed blood from his blade, Jake listened for any dragging footsteps or moans, quietly sheathing his blade and avoiding some nearby broken glass to avoid making noise. He kept his ears open for anything out of the ordinary and listened until he heard a noise he wouldn't have expected in such an environment: the squealing of tires.

"_That's coming from the west," _he told himself as he heard the vehicle approaching. Not knowing whether its inhabitants would be friendly or not, the hired gun hid behind a van with its driver's side tires deflated.

A tan, rusted pickup truck missing its right headlight pulled into view and came to a sudden halt outside of a red brick apartment building. Inside Jake could see two figures, the driver looking like he was struggling to hold his passenger inside until the door came open.

"I have to make sure she's alright!" a voice called out and an African-American man dressed in a gray outfit stepped out, brandishing what looked like a customized Colt handgun.

"Samuel wait!" the driver called out, identifying himself as a bald Caucasian man in an outfit similar to his passenger's, "We can't just stop here man! We have to get moving! Now for God's sakes, get your fucking ass back in the truck!"

"Fuck you Nathan! When you've got somebody you love trapped in God knows where, then you try getting your ass outta town!" Samuel retorted before making his way towards the building's front door.

"Well how the hell do you even know she's still in there? For all we know she either escaped or she could be fucking dead already!" Nathan protested walking toward his companion, carrying what looked like a police-issue Beretta in his right hand.

"I have to try!" Samuel declared, until he was grabbed by the shoulder.

"No, we have to get outta here!" Nathan ordered, trying to drag him back to the truck.

"Let me go you heartless prick!" Samuel growled, struggling to free himself from his friend's grasp.

Jake quietly observed the proceeding argument and carefully moved along the van, until a tattered portion of his trench coat became ensnared on a jagged bit of metal. With a grunt, he tore his coat away from the jagged bit, loud enough for the two men to hear him.

Halting their argument, the two men turned to see the dark-clad hitman standing near the van with his guns drawn. Panicking, the two men opened fire.

"Damn it!" Jake hissed as the bullets pinged off the van's surface, _"Should've been more careful," _he scolded himself.

He wasn't very worried though, noting how the men expended their ammunition liberally, suggesting they weren't used to actual combat and probably wouldn't have had much luck hitting him anyway. They would have been a piece of cake for him to take down, but right now he wasn't going to waste his time with them, knowing they were already sealing their fate.

Seeing a half opened door behind him, the hired gun kept his head low and dashed over towards it, carefully making his way in before slamming it shutting and locking it behind him. Again hugging the wall, he knelt down with his guns raised and listened for the shots to die off before he dared to move.

"_More unnecessary distractions," _Jake thought to himself, reminded of those old zombie movies he used to watch where in the end, humans ultimately ended up being a bigger threat to each other rather than their undead hunters. Even if those men had tried to kill him, he realized now wouldn't be the time for another human's blood to be spilled.

"_They probably won't last much longer anyway," _he thought as he found himself in what had been a hair salon, now a ransacked mess with its products littering the floor and their contents having leaked out to create a great hazard for any traveler, although he couldn't help but notice how their artificial fragrances had been a welcome change from the unvarying stench of decay.

Carefully navigating his way across the slippery floor, he made his way to the back of the shop and searched the office, finding nothing of use for his current situation and then made his way out the back door and into another alley.

Stepping back into the darkness, Jake pointed his guns in both directions and listened for any sinister sounds before continuing down the alley.

"_There's gotta be someplace I can relax for a bit and get some answers. Christ, I'm running around in circles and still have no idea where the hell I'm going. This damned city's twice the size I expected," _he thought moving further along, finding several corpses that had been dispatched with careful head shots. _"This isn't the first needle in a haystack I've had to find and it certainly won't be the last either," _comforting himself in knowing he would do whatever he could to survive.

Rounding another corner, Jake was almost surprised as he looked up and saw a building that still had its lights shining brightly from within, although he assumed they had probably been left on by inhabitants that hadn't had the time to turn them off or were left on as they were brutally slaughtered.

Still, it piqued the hitman's interest and he slowly approached the building, again listening in for anything out of the ordinary. Keeping a safe distance he peered into the windows to see if there were any inhabitants within, living or undead.

He could hear a few muffled voices from within and with them, what he assumed were moans. A second later, the rattle of automatic fire pierced the air, followed by a woman's shriek. Indeed there were people inside fighting for their lives.

Jake looked towards the upper floors and noticed a vibrant flashing, followed by a dark substance splashing against the nearest window.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way towards the building.

"_Looks like it's time to play hero all over again."_

Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment of DA-R where we find our favorite antihero on his own once again.

For those of you who haven't played the game, or aren't familiar with it at all, the two men in the pickup truck whom Jake encounters are Nathan and Samuel, both of whom are held in the cell adjacent to Ben's in "Outbreak: File 2," this was meant to be my way of explaining their absence come the time of RE2.

Other than that, I really don't have much else to think of in regards to my usual post-chapter rants.

Until then, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	26. Ch 25: I Like to Play Games Too

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: After a hiatus I return to the world of RE ficdom! Not really much to report on my end aside from hoping you all had yourselves a happy 4th of July, or as I call it "Legally Blow Shit Up Day."

But yeah, I'm back and this is my latest "offering" to the rabid masses so until then, on with the story!

Chapter 25: I Like to Play Games Too

What had started as another impromptu rescue mission had just turned into another struggle for survival.

Jake grunted as he lay against a wall, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his neck and shoulders, and struggling to summon more strength for his rubbery arms as he was pinned down by what had once been an ordinary Doberman, now a mangled abomination with eyes as crimson as blood. He nearly heaved at the beast's foul breath as it drew its blood-drenched fangs closer and closer to his waiting windpipe, dripping its slimy froth and unidentifiable meat from quivering jaws onto what had been the man's favorite shirt.

"You disgusting bastard!" the hitman spat at the ravenous demon dog in his struggle. His gloved hands clamped onto each side of the former canine's head, their hardened surface probably being the only thing saving him as they kept strong traction on the slippery surface.

Taking a deep breath, he worked his hands down around its brittle neck, hoping to strangle it into submission, but its sleek, exposed tendons made things more difficult.

The decaying Doberman barked in protest as fingers wrapped around its neck one by one. It still gnashed its teeth, hoping to take a bite out of the human beneath it. With all its strength it lowered its head towards its prey's exposed neck, but the man was just too strong and determined.

"Get…the…fuck…off!" Jake grunted and with a final heave, snapped the undead canine's neck with his bare hands.

"Good riddance!" he gasped, tossing the beast's carcass aside and swept both glass shards and splinters of wood away from his clothes.

Jake looked around the abandoned apartment he presently occupied, which had been ransacked by the assault of numerous demon dogs, searching through the debris littering the floor for his precious SPAS-12.

He rolled over onto his side and then began pulling himself along, rising to his hands and knees as he was careful to avoid any of the shot up corpses and the blood pooling around them.

"Come on, it's gotta be around here somewhere," he whispered as his hands sifted through splintered boards, piles of brick, and broken trinkets looking for his gun. He needed to find it before he could move on, knowing of its value after it had saved him from most of the aforementioned demon dogs, who now lay about in awkward positions after being shredded by its blasts.

"Come on damn it, where are you?" he quietly asked as he approached a pile of boards and managed to squeeze his hand beneath, feeling around before brushing along the cool handle of his beloved gun.

"Bingo," he hissed in excitement as he gripped the handle and yanked it out from beneath the pile, dusting it off and checking it over to make sure there was no serious damage done to it.

"Something goes right for once," he said, bracing the shotgun against the floor and using it to pull himself back to his feet, stretching out his limbs as he stood erect.

Altogether five shot up dogs lay in the decrepit apartment, each one of them having attempted to make the hired gun their next meal. His shotgun along with his deft movements had kept him alive, until the last demonic dog tackled him against the wall.

It was almost sadistic in nature, but Jake found himself smiling at his handiwork, knowing he had rid himself of five less nuisances during his stay in the city.

In the corner of the room lay a woman in a white blouse that had been turned mostly red by the dried river of blood stemming from ugly wounds in her collarbone and shoulder. Not too far away from her a young man in a green button up shirt lay in a mangled mess, most of his back and legs ripped apart by the vicious hounds. The shredded remnants of a rucksack were still strapped to his back, most of its contents destroyed by the attacking monsters.

They weren't the first corpses he had found inside the building, having found another man and woman being ripped into by some zombies, an elderly man with his arm gnawed off and intestines torn out, a burly man in a flannel shirt who had his face torn off, a teenaged girl who had been put down by a barrage of high-caliber bullets and last was a small boy torn to shreds by those beasts, a sight which made Jake's blood boil.

"Goddamned freaks," he grunted, taking one last look at his recent kills before returning to the hallway, where he happened across the corpse of another woman in a yellow jacket who had taken a round between the eyes. She showed no signs of decay, but one of her sleeves had been torn and beneath it, a chunk of flesh had been chomped from her forearm by an unseen attacker.

_"So this was just a waste of my time after all," _Jake thought to himself as he made his way down the crumbling hall, waving his shotgun back and forth in case there were any threats he hadn't dealt with yet.

_"What the hell am I doing playing 'Good Samaritan' at a time like this? I should still be hunting high and low for that Birkin bastard. Damn it Jake, you're going to get yourself killed if you keep this shit up. You should be looking out for 'number one' at a time like this," _a voice scolded him as he approached a stairwell, only to stop as he spotted a blood-drenched teddy bear, which he assumed had belonged to the murdered boy.

_"Then again, there are people here who are too weak to defend themselves, people who would need someone like you," _another voice spoke, this one more human and empathetic, _"They will continue dying unless somebody can save them."_

"_What the hell makes you think you could have saved any of these people Jake? They were dead long before you showed up!" _the first voice shouted, _"What the hell makes you think you could be a hero? Look at all the people you've killed! If you tried saving any of their relatives they'd probably try killing you for what you did to them!"_

"_No Jake, you did the right thing by trying to help," _the second voice retorted.

The hitman cried out as his head began to hurt and he clamped his hands to the sides in an effort to shut the dueling voices out.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" he screamed through clenched teeth, throwing himself against the nearest wall, doing whatever he could to shut out the voices.

He threw himself against the cracked surface, losing track after the third time, continuing until his entire body was wracked by pain. When the voices stopped, he slunk against the wall.

"Damn it Jake, get a grip," he whispered, allowing his head to rest against the wall behind him and shutting his eyes before allowing them to flutter open a few minutes later. It was tempting to pass out right then and there, but he knew he had to stay awake.

"_I've been awake far too long and now my mind is going to shit on me," _he thought as he tried to calm himself, trying to think of anything that could distract him for a few moments at the least. Whether it was a happy memory of camping with his uncle and cousins, playing music with his friends, or even his first kiss, the horrors of the present would come back to haunt him, and his distractions would transform into more painful reminders of his past.

"_C'mon damn it, there's gotta be something that can get me to stop thinking about all this shit," _his mind screamed, just as he looked down at his shotgun.

"No…I'm not going that route," Jake whispered, tossing the weapon aside, "I'm no coward."

"_I'm in control of my mind and my body," _he told himself and allowed his previous thoughts to enter his mind, doing whatever he could to keep them positive and uplifting. "I'm in charge," he said aloud, keeping his eyes closed in deep concentration.

"_I'm in charge of my own destiny. I'm not going to let some nightmarish hellhole tell me what to do," _he reminded himself, allowing his eyes to slowly open and take in his violated surroundings, vowing he wouldn't fall here, not in this necropolis.

"I will leave this place alive," Jake proclaimed as he forced himself back to his feet, shrugging off the waves of pain reverberating through his body as he felt the determination burning within.

"I'm going to find Birkin if it's the last thing I do."

Descending the stairs with his trusty shotgun raised, Jake breathed a brief sigh of relief seeing the area devoid of any threats and hugged the wall upon noticing the broken porthole in the door he was approaching.

The rancid stench of death assaulted his nostrils, telling him that something was nearby. He willed himself forward, listening for any moans, dragging footsteps, barks or masticating. There was little light shining from the room, raising the tension as he approached the door and slowly pushed it open, entering with his shotgun raised.

Jake found himself in the building's laundry room and looked over the rows of blood-covered washing machines for any signs of life. He couldn't hear or see anything and crept towards the left, where a dead body was sprawled in the corner. Picking up a brick, he chucked it at the dead man's head and felt relief when he didn't rise again.

Rounding the corner, he found more corpses splayed out on the floor, all of them shot up with pools of blood around them that had long since dried. Near the body of a woman that had fallen onto a pile of clothing, a bloodied knife lay and not too far from that, a SIG Pro SP2009 with its slide damaged beyond repair.

A loud boom sounded from behind as several laundry baskets tumbled to the floor at once.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" the hitman demanded and pumped his shotgun.

Jake moved around the last set of washers to find a dark-skinned man pulling himself along the machines, bloody smudges following his every movement. He wore the tattered remnants of a black tactical vest and the green fatigue shirt underneath had been shredded as well, but through all the dried blood he was able to make out a patch on the man's shoulder identifying him as Sudanese by origin.

Multiple bite wounds covered the man's arms and a tear in his pant leg exposed a nasty gash, which could have been caused by an accident or maybe one of those Lickers. An unhealthy pallor was overtaking the man's normal dark skin tone and by the looks of the way he trembled, didn't have much time left before he became one of the undead.

The soldier looked towards Jake with fearful brown eyes, the last emotion he would ever experience as a normal human being. He opened his mouth to speak, but a weak gurgle emerged before breaking into a violent coughing fit, prompting the hitman to raise his shotgun.

Sensing the SPAS-12 being pointed at him, the man looked up one last time and choked out the words, "Do it! Do…it…" he pleaded.

"I'm sorry," the hired gun replied with a solemn nod before squeezing the trigger, obliterating the soldier's face and ensuring he would never become a zombie.

Not wanting to risk exposure to the dead man's infected blood; Jake grabbed a nearby broom handle and poked at his pockets to see if he carried anything of use, but felt nothing and moved on.

Making his way through a door at the back of the room, the hitman found himself in another narrow corridor with a flight of stairs leading to another door at the end.

Lying in the middle of the hall was the corpse of another U.B.C.S. soldier, a blond-haired man with a radio kit strapped to his back. Approaching the dead man with caution, Jake noticed he had been shot in his left leg with some high-caliber rounds that had shredded through major arteries and caused him to bleed out, a probable 'friendly fire' incident.

Kneeling over the man's corpse, he searched his pockets for extra ammo and found two additional clips that would have been compatible with his Berettas, as well as two more filled with 5.56x40mm NATO rounds. As he expected, another M4A1 Carbine lay just inches away from the man. Tossing down his empty MP5, the hitman scooped up the assault rifle and tested its sights, satisfied with the results.

"_Definitely what I need," _Jake thought as he looked down to the man's vest, identified as "Wicklow" by his nametag and his flag patch identifying him as Australian.

Out of curiosity, the hitman reached over and switched on the man's radio, wondering if he would be able to hear anybody at all. As he anticipated, it was mostly static by this point, the creepy, unfeeling static of a desolate wasteland. He continued to shuffle through the channels until he heard garbled bits of a voice breaking through.

"…_No…come…head…Our platoon is…off…No survivors have been found…This is Carlos…se-…poi-…immediately…"_

Jake exhaled and switched the radio off, figuring that poor bastard didn't have much time left.

"You're on your own pal…everybody is by this point," he muttered, taking one last look at the deceased radioman before making his exit.

Opening the door, Jake slung the rifle around his shoulder and stepped into the back alley with his shotgun raised. There was an eerie quiet and all he could hear was the howling winds. Surrounded by plenty of darkened alcoves, he wished he had a flashlight or some flares on him right now.

"_I was at least hoping one of these soldier guys would have a pair of night vision goggles on them. Damn Hunters," _the hitman thought as he crept down the alley towards the nearest street, waving his shotgun back and forth as he approached the opening.

Another desolate street awaited him, cordoned off by a jackknifed semi truck; several boarded up doors and gated alleys that left him with no choice but to go right.

As he approached the next turn a gunshot suddenly rang out, forcing him against the nearest wall. Approaching the turn, he looked around to see if he could pinpoint the source of the shots.

A small group of zombies staggered towards a highway overpass and leaning against the rail, he could see a shadowy figure armed with some kind of rifle, firing down upon them.

He watched as the zombies crumbled to the blacktop one by one, all of them felled by shots to the cranium. The process continued until the last walking cadaver hit the ground after taking a bullet to the face, followed by a booming laughter.

"Ha ha! That's 98 of you freaks down!" the shooter cried out.

"_That idiot must think this is some kind of game," _Jake thought as he knelt down and crouch walked over to a dumpster, readying his rifle if needed.

He could hear the idling of diesel engines and the thuds of large crates being dropped to the ground, along with several more darkened figures walking behind the shooter.

"_More of Umbrella's boys?" _the hitman asked himself as he stared towards the overpass, unable to make out any distinguishing characteristics. _"Hmmm, either that or maybe the military decided to send the cavalry in after all."_

Before Jake could ponder the matter any further, he was distracted by footsteps coming from behind him and pointed his rifle towards the source.

A woman came hobbling into view, covered in filth and looking visibly disoriented. The hitman prepared to shoot, until he noticed a healthier tint to her dark skin and held his fire.

She was still alive and making her way towards the hotel entrance before her, oblivious to Jake's presence and the bullets pelting the surrounding pavement.

A third shot rang out and the woman collapsed as a bullet struck her right leg, just beneath her kneecap, and she cried out in pain.

"Now that's definitely not something a zombie would do," Jake remarked as he watched the wounded woman begin to crawl towards the entrance, whimpering in agony with every movement she made.

"_Perhaps there is a good deed for me today," _he told himself as he slung the rifle around his neck and bolted over to the fallen woman, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her inside the building.

Jake found himself in a lobby similar to that of the Apple Inn, a large room with several couches and chairs positioned in the center of the room before a big screen television, a rather comforting sight in such a frightening atmosphere.

The woman had fallen limp in his grasp, passing out from the shock of her wound.

"Hang in there lady," he whispered, leading her over to one of the couches and gently lying her down. He didn't know whether this would be the safest place to leave her, but didn't know if anywhere else in this building would be safe or not. Also, he had to take into consideration if she had people looking for her or not, not wanting to make it any harder for them.

Aside from the filth covering her, the woman was dressed in rather professional attire consisting of a yellow lab coat and black skirt, but when he noticed the nametag attached to her uniform he cocked an eyebrow.

The ID was that of an Umbrella employee, a high level researcher to be exact, "Linda Washington" she was now known as.

"_One of Umbrella's people still stuck here in the city? Mustn't be too important if they haven't had her ass evacuated just yet," _he thought to himself, _"Then again, I wonder if I should really be helping her or not with all the shit they've been causing around here."_

Even if she really was involved with the more 'seedier' aspects of the company, he still wouldn't allow her to stay out there and be torn apart by those 'things.'

Then again, part of him was giving her the benefit of the doubt, knowing some people who worked for Umbrella could not have been aware of their employer's true nature, conned into believing they were working on cures for major diseases.

Whatever the case was, there was a trigger happy madman out there who needed to be dealt with before he could harm anybody else.

"I'll help you later," Jake said as he took the time to pull out his can of first-aid spray and applied some of it to her bullet wound, believing he had already used the rest of his bandaging for his own damaged leg.

"_If he wants to make a game out of this, then so can I," _Jake thought as he readied his assault rifle, _"I like to play games too."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He watched through the scope of his PSG-1 as the yellow-clad woman he shot collapsed to the ground, only to begin crawling towards the front entrance of the hotel she had been approaching.

"This will be the 99th rodent I've killed…" Sgt. Arnold St. Peter remarked as the woman moved closer and closer to the front door, "…wait a second, I think that may be a live one," he said lowering his rifle, noticing the lively color to her skin, not the ashen hue that seemed universal amongst all zombies.

"Oh well, fuck it!" the U.B.C.S. squad leader spat as he rose back to his feet, _"Not the first civvie I've killed," _he thought to himself, _"She wouldn't have much time left before she bleeds to death anyway."_

"What are you doing?" a high nasal voice called out, one that made the burly man's skin crawl.

He didn't even bother to turn and address the short, wiry, spectacled man in the black business suit approaching him, "Get the hell out there and find them!" the man commanded, Arnold finding himself trying his hardest not to laugh whenever the man attempted to take charge and speak in a harsher tone.

The man was Tommy Neilson, a low-level Umbrella executive who had been sent to personally supervise Arnold's unit as they were given a clandestine retrieval assignment. He was also the single most annoying prick he had ever had the misfortune of meeting and if he knew he wouldn't be executed for it, he wouldn't have hesitated to put a bullet between the man's eyes a long time ago.

"How long do you plan to just sit here and do nothing?" the executive demanded, clapping his hands in impatience.

Arnold continued ignoring the man, returning his attention to the hotel, where he could have sworn he saw another figure bolting towards the entrance. His predatory instinct kicking into full gear, he took aim, doing whatever he could to shut out Tommy's voice.

"Can you get it through your thick skull? If the package gets out, it'll be your neck on the line, not mine!" the executive spat, pointing an accusatory finger towards him.

"_The bastard's nowhere in sight. I must've been seeing things," _the burly sergeant thought to himself as he lowered his rifle, just in time to hear the beeping of his radio, which had also caught Tommy's attention.

"_Of course it'll catch his attention, he's always doing whatever he can to overrule my command," _Arnold thought as he picked up the radio and placed it to his ear.

"_Sir, landmine placement complete!" _another operative reported.

"Okay, that seals off any ground exit," the sergeant replied, earning another frantic response from the director.

"What!" Tommy gasped, "Did you forget I'm the one who gives the orders here?" he continued, still finding himself ignored by Arnold, the sergeant continuing to stare off into the distance.

"_Why the hell should you be giving the orders, Weasel?" _Arnold asked himself, _"You're not the one wearing the uniform here. Your neck is no more on the line than mine is."_

"Wait! Think of the position I'm in…" Tommy continued, managing to gain his subordinate's attention.

Arnold turned and raised his PSG-1, squeezing the trigger.

Tommy cried out as the bullet sailed just mere inches past his head, squeezing his eyes shut until he heard the dying groan of a zombie, followed by a body hitting the concrete.

"100!" Arnold proclaimed in his gravelly tone.

The Umbrella executive opened his eyes just as the sergeant began strolling away in casual indifference, the ringing in his ears still strong and his mind struggling to register what had just occurred.

It didn't take long and when it finally did, he gasped and almost collapsed, realizing he had been just a centimeter away from dying, almost by the hand of someone under his jurisdiction.

"St. Peter you bastard," he muttered when he was sure the operative was out of earshot, a loose cannon who could have easily snapped him in half with his own bare hands had he wanted to.

Arnold continued down the highway overpass, searching for more kills.

The mission meant little to him, just another stupid retrieval operation because the company wanted to get its hands on another capsule containing God knows what. All he knew was that it meant that if it were somehow penetrated, whatever was inside would then break free and kill everything around it, a position he always hated being in.

He knew the company viewed him and his men as nothing more than a bunch of pawns, expendable down to the last man out, but yet he knew he didn't have much of another choice. All he could do was continue fighting and keep the paychecks coming in until he finally found himself on the business end of a B.O.W.'s claws, fangs, tentacles, or God knows what else they would possess.

Only the thought of knowing there were things that could be killed kept him going and he wanted to continue adding to his tally.

"_God only knows I'm a born killer, not a damned delivery man," _he thought to himself until a voice called out.

"Sir!"

Looking to his left he saw another man running towards him. He couldn't tell who it was right away due to the balaclava and combat goggles obscuring the man's true features, plus the fact that he was dressed like himself and everybody else, wearing a black combat harness with the U.B.C.S. logo on the back, a green t-shirt underneath and tan cargo pants.

"_They're all the same," _Arnold thought coming to a halt, _"They all eventually end up dead anyway. What's the point in getting attached to them?"_

"What's up?" the sergeant asked.

"We've just gotten a call from Charlie Platoon. They're reporting a heavy amount of hostiles headed our way. We're going to need to-"

Before the man could finish his sentence, a bullet pierced his forehead and sent him crumpling to the ground.

"Fuck!" Arnold gasped as a flurry of high-velocity rounds pelted away at the concrete guardrail he took cover behind.

The other U.B.C.S. soldiers heard the outburst and stopped everything else they were doing to scramble for their guns, taking cover behind the transport trucks, large crates and whatever else they could find as they went into full alert, unaware as to whether they were being attacked by an entire army, or possibly a lone assailant.

"Hold your positions!" Arnold ordered as he waited for the gunfire to die down before peeking his head over the railing.

"What the fuck?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake charged towards the highway overpass firing another barrage at the sniper as he peeked his head over the railing.

"That's right you bastard," he whispered as he fired off a few more rounds.

Trying to aim his rifle over the barrier, the gunman was forced down by the bullets chipping away at the cement around him. By then, some of the man's friends had shown up carrying assault rifles of their own.

The other men opened fire upon him, forcing him to roll behind a jeep that had swerved to a halt at an awkward angle.

"_Bastard has more friends than I thought," _the hired gun thought to himself as the bullets chipped away at the jeep's exterior and showering him with jagged bits of glass. Reacting on instinct, he stuck his rifle's barrel out and fired a few blind rounds in the direction of the bullets, doing whatever he could to create an opening for himself.

"_I've gotta do something fast," _Jake told himself as the bullets tore through the jeep's seats and a few came close to striking him. Moving along the limited cover he had, he popped out and fired a burst that dropped one of the soldiers and wounded another with a round through his left hand that made him drop his rifle.

The hitman continued to fire until his clip ran dry and he quickly ejected it, slapping in a fresh one. He took a few seconds to reply, but when he did he saw one of the men hefting what appeared to be an RPG-7 onto his shoulder.

"Oh shit!" Jake blurted out as he saw the man taking aim.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A manhole cover slid aside, its harsh grating muted by the staccato rhythm of gunfire in the distance.

"Shit, I don't think we should be going out there," a raspy voice called out from below.

The person shoving the metal cover aside ignored his companion and pulled himself onto the street, a dark-haired man with a tool belt and grubby beige jumpsuit now covered in dried blood and numerous other substances. He set a shotgun down next to him that had been repaired with vinyl tape and some junk parts.

"David! David!" the same man called from the sewer.

David King ignored his companion, scanning the area to make sure there were no shooters near them. He looked over to the nearby hotel and saw the front door ajar.

"David c'mon damn it! We gotta find some place safer than this! I don't like the sounds of all those shots in the air!" his unseen companion called out.

Again, the plumber ignored the other man and peeked his head around the corner, where a group of soldiers exchanged gunfire with a shadowy opponent.

"_Must be some of those U.B.C.S. chumps Rodriguez warned us about," _David thought to himself as a series of metallic clanks echoed from behind.

With a labored grunt, a bald, robust African-American wearing a dark blue SCUTUM security service jacket pulled himself onto the war-torn street, careful not to drop his H&K MP5.

"Goddamn it David, we have to get outta here! Now c'mon for God's sakes!" the security guard demanded, waving his submachine gun around as if he expected a zombie or armed human to step out at any second.

"It's coming from over there!" the plumber said pointing his thumb towards the corner.

Running over to where his companion stood, the guard poked his head around the corner to see the same battle taking place.

"Shit," the older man cursed, "the last thing this city needs."

"C'mon Mark, we've gotta get to someplace more secure," David said as he bolted towards the hotel.

"David wait!" Mark Wilkins called out as he chased after the plumber, already winded from having done a lot of running.

The duo made their way inside where they were greeted by a welcome sight.

Stretched out on one of the couches in the main lobby they found Linda Washington, an Umbrella researcher they had decided to team up with in the hopes of escaping from Raccoon City.

From what they knew, she possessed vital information on mass producing a possible antidote for the T-Virus that had been ravaging their community and therefore, it had been of the utmost importance that they get her out of the city alive.

"Oh god," Mark blurted out as he noticed the blood spilling all over the couch from a fresh wound in her leg. Having seen similar injuries during his time in Vietnam, he knew already she had been shot.

David was already tending to the researcher, who by now was slowly regaining consciousness.

"Wh…where…am I?" Linda moaned, fluttering her eyes open and trying to move her head around, but was stopped by the plumber.

"Relax, you're someplace safe…for now," David replied as he pulled out a bandage and some hemostat pills he had obtained from the laboratory. Mark was on hand with a can of first aid spray he still carried and they did whatever they could to treat the woman's wound.

"Oh god…Carter…where's Carter…" Linda gasped, "…is he…alright?"

David and Mark looked at each other, unsure if they should tell her about what happened to her colleague at the hands of that Tyrant back at the facility or not.

A static hiss distracted both men from their thoughts and Mark reached for a radio kept in his pocket.

"_Wilkins, are you there?" _a voice called out.

"Yeah, I'm here, what's up?" the guard replied.

It was Juan Rodriguez, the Umbrella pilot who was their only surefire ticket out of the city. He had been waiting quite a while for their return and the impatience in his tone indicated the situation was deteriorating further by the moment.

"_Where the hell are you? Those U.B.C.S. bastards are getting closer and if they find me, we're all as good as dead," _the U.S.S. operative barked.

"We're at the South Apple Inn and have just found Linda. She's been shot and we just got her treated. It might take some extra time for us to get over there," Mark reported, keeping a close eye on the researcher, who was beginning to register the pain in her leg.

"_Well you'd better hurry your fucking asses up. We don't have much time left and I doubt whatever's in this capsule will be asleep much longer!" _Rodriguez grunted.

Again, both men stared uneasily toward one another, aware of the hazardous cargo he would be shipping once the time came for them to take off.

"Alright, we'll be there as soon as possible," Mark replied before putting his radio away.

"C'mon, we've gotta move," David said to Linda as he hoisted her back to her feet, catching her as she nearly tumbled to the floor, crying out in agony the entire time.

A loud, sudden explosion rocked the foundation around them.

"I don't like the sounds of that. We'd better find ourselves a back door outta this place," Mark said moving towards the back of the lobby.

"Whatever you say," David replied as he began dragging Linda along.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake hit the ground hard after being flung airborne by the explosion's shockwave, barely dodging its blast radius.

In too much pain to move, he could only bring his arms up to shield his head as debris fell around him. A loud metallic groan came from above the blast zone and he looked up to see a fire escape loosening from the bolts that held it up and come falling to the ground with an ear-splitting crash that sent an entire cloud of dust and smoke swarming over him.

"Damn it…" the hitman gagged as he forced himself to crawl on his belly, spitting out mouthfuls of mucus along the way. The dust was blinding him and he rapidly blinked his eyes to get it out and coped with ringing in his ears from the sudden plethora of loud noises.

He rolled onto his side and looked back to see more rubble continuing to fall from the surrounding buildings and a wall of flames that would surely block off his exit, meaning he now had nowhere else to go but forward.

"Bastards…" Jake spat as he pulled himself back to his feet, shaking off a layer of dust that made him sneeze in rapid succession as tendrils assaulted his nostrils. He continued to move forward, not even bothering to wipe away the slime trickling from his nose.

Moving towards the back of the dimly-lit alley, he came to a vandalized steel door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

"_Guess I'll have to use my own little 'key' then," _he thought as he pulled out his combat knife, remembering how Jason had used his own switchblade to pick the lock of the door into that Raccoon Express station.

Sticking the blade's tip into the keyhole, he jostled the lock and grunted in frustration as he tried to force it around; moving the blade up and down and from left to right, trying lock picking methods Eddie O'Bannon had taught him in the past.

"_If this had been him, he could've been inside ten seconds flat with just a paper clip," _Jake thought as he struggled with a stubborn rusted locking mechanism, feeling his hand tighten up as he was forced to put all his strength into it. He continued until he felt a heavy weight, it was what he was looking for, what told him that he was just inches away from picking the lock.

"That's right, c'mon," he hissed, jostling the knife until he heard a small click and the door slowly swung open, "Thank you Eddie," he muttered.

Easing the door open, Jake noted the close quarters and decided to withdraw his shotgun. Sniffing the air above him, he was able to make out the familiar aroma of raw meat and several bloodied smocks hanging on hooks next to him told him he was now entering a slaughterhouse.

"_Just my luck, a literal buffet for those fucking freaks," _he told himself as he stepped through a door and found himself on the second floor catwalk.

The building's machinery had long ago ceased, now replaced by the sounds of flesh being torn away at an amplified rate.

Approaching the railing, Jake looked down into a holding pen where livestock had been kept to see an entire group of zombies had taken down a cow and were still tearing away at its defenseless carcass, what he counted to be at least seven zombies tearing away at different portions of the fallen bovine. In the corner of the pen was another mangled cadaver with two thirds of its flesh peeled away and some of its bones broken off, another truly disgusting sight.

"_As long as it's got meat on its bones, anything is fair game to them," _he thought as he spotted a few pig carcasses that had been torn into as well, their innards splayed about.

A tall, lanky zombie in a bloodied industrial jumper approached him and in the distance he could see three more stumbling about.

"Duty calls," Jake dryly whispered as he approached the former slaughterhouse worker with caution before performing a spinning roundhouse kick that caught him in the face and sent him tumbling over the railing, striking the concrete floor with a sickening crack.

Holstering his shotgun, the hitman pulled out his dual Berettas and waited for the three other zombies to get closer to him before letting off a barrage of rounds that found their marks in each of the walking cadavers' sagging faces.

Rounding the corner he approached a set of flimsy double doors at the center of the western wall and pushed his way through, only to stop as he was overcome by a cold breeze that almost froze every bead of sweat covering his exposed skin.

Jake found himself in a refrigeration unit where several slabs of beef hung suspended by hooks on an overhead conveyor belt that had come to a halt. More zombies chomped away at the frozen meat, too distracted to take notice of the fresh human that had entered.

In another tight space with no choice but to fight, the hitman withdrew his shotgun and took aim at a short man in a butcher's apron, firing a blast of buckshot into the back of his head as he attempted to tear a chunk from the closest slab.

Nearby, another zombie had his teeth deeply embedded in the raw cattle ribs and shook its head violently as it tried to tear a piece away, struggling to hold onto the slippery meat at the same time. Jake wasted no time and dispatched this zombie in similar fashion, blowing a large chunk away from the former cow as well.

By now the shotgun blasts had started to attract the other zombies' attention and they stepped away from their current meals, staggering towards the hired gun on a slippery surface that sent several of them tumbling to the floor and leaving them at his mercy.

With repeated blasts, Jake reduced the former humans to piles of bloody strips before he ran out of ammo and pulled out his katana to drive it through the back of a straggler's head.

Flicking the congealed blood from his blade, he sheathed it and made his way through another set of double doors, finding himself in another large room filled with machinery. Like it was before, all of the machines had been switched off and allowed him to listen in for any activity. He heard nothing and continued until he happened across two deceased workers.

Both men had large chunks blown out of their bodies and what remained of their clothing and flesh had been heavily charred. He saw no traces of napalm gel and assumed whatever caused this couldn't have been done by those flame rounds from the grenade launchers he had seen used.

Walking further along the catwalk, he spotted more zombies that had been dispatched in a similar manner and continued until he happened across a familiar enemy.

Slumped against the exterior wall of an office was another one of those Lickers, with its left arm blown off and most of its flesh singed away.

Jake harrumphed at the sight, scratching the forming stubble on his chin out of curiosity.

"_Whatever's doing this is one serious fucking weapon," _he thought as he rounded another corner, only to come face to face with another one of those U.B.C.S. operatives slumped against a control console, a patch on the man's vest indicating him as German.

Most of the exposed flesh on the brown-haired man's arms had been seared away, as had a majority of the material on his flak vest, leaving the hitman to wonder if he had been exposed to whatever burned those zombies and Licker.

At the man's feet lay a weird object he had never seen before. It was semi-rectangular and almost looked like it was a cross between a rifle and a grenade launcher with the front part of its body black and its stock area a metallic purplish color. Kneeling before it, Jake reached down to inspect it when a loud groan came from the supposed corpse.

Leaping backwards with his shotgun raised, the hired gun pointed at the man's chest, only to see he wasn't rising back to his feet and furthermore, seeing faint traces of life in the man's bluish-green eyes.

"What the hell?" Jake asked the man as he struggled into a sitting position and it was then that he finally saw the nasty gash across the man's stomach spilling out blood at an alarming rate, no doubt caused by that Licker's claws.

The man tried to reply, but could only manage a ragged gasp, similar to the kind emitted by his likely assailant. It was a miracle he could even sit up in his sorry state, but obvious he didn't have much time left. Jake said nothing as he stared at the man and again knelt down to examine the weapon lying before him, when all of a sudden the man suddenly shot his arm out, pointing to an unseen threat behind him.

Whirling around with his shotgun raised, the assassin wasn't fast enough and only managed to catch a glimpse of some snow white hair before he found the barrel of a gun pointed in his direction.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The air was knocked out of his lungs as six bullets struck him in the chest, with enough force to send him staggering backward and tumbling down a flight of stairs behind him.

Jake fell head over feet like a piece of clothing in a dryer until his head struck the pavement and knocked him out cold.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nicholai Ginovaef watched in cool indifference as the black-clad individual fell down the flight of stairs and listened for the following thud as he landed on the floor below. Walking over to the railing he looked down to see the man lying in a broken heap with blood already pooling around his head.

Satisfied with his most recent kill, the supervisor returned his attention to the wounded soldier who had tried in vain to warn the other man.

It was Gerhard Schmidt, a U.B.C.S. weapons specialist who had once carried out similar duties in the German army. An able soldier, he was an expert with all forms of firearms big and small, as well as being the first to test out any experimental weapons on the battlefield. Such was the case with the prototype mine thrower lying near his feet, which was out of ammo and kicked aside by the cold-hearted supervisor.

He was also known to be well-liked around the barracks and seemed to never have a problem gaining the trust of his fellow soldiers, and from what the sergeant heard around, was also a first name ballot for a future promotion.

It was also him who had happened across Nicholai just as he was in the middle of gunning down fellow supervisor Angus Riley. He had managed to escape and if he were to get in touch with the others, he would no doubt spill the beans and thus endanger his true mission.

Now here he was, powerless and near death, left at his mercy.

Looking down to his SIG Pro SP2009, the Russian smiled and took aim at the dying man's face.

"Now my secret dies with you," Nicholai remarked as he readied to pull the trigger.

Before anything could happen, Schmidt's head collapsed to the side and the supervisor held his fire, watching as the man's eyes shut one final time.

Nicholai just stood there with his gun trained on the body, waiting for several moments to see if the man would rise again. He watched closely for any of the signs he had been trained to recognize before a carrier would transform into their "zombified" state.

So far, Schmidt had exhibited none and the supervisor took a few steps forward, examining the gash across the man's stomach from a distance. It had to be the work of that Re3 he had just happened across, noting it was a small miracle the weapons specialist had managed to kill him with a mine thrower of all things, noting how its dart-shaped proximity mines possessed a three second delay between impact and detonation. The burns covering the man's body suggested the creature may have gotten close enough just as the explosive detonated.

Nudging the fallen operative with his boot, there was no reaction. This man was dead, but it remained unknown if he would transform into anything or not.

"Can't be too cautious," Nicholai remarked before squeezing his trigger, launching a round into the German's forehead.

With his latest target finished off, the supervisor pulled out his laptop and used its mounted webcam to take a picture of the fallen specialist's corpse before inputting the rest of his data and then slapping it shut.

Putting his laptop back into his side pack, Nicholai then approached the railing to see the man in black still lying lifeless at the foot of the stairs.

Something seemed familiar about the nameless man he had just shot, something that left him wanting to investigate the matter further.

Descending the stairs he made his way over to the prone figure and upon taking a closer look at his face, knew who he was dealing with.

"You," he whispered, recognizing the face as that of the same civilian who had been running around with Lt. Victor's group of survivors, the very man who seemed as if he could be a legitimate threat to his operation, the individual whom he had trapped within the sights of his rifle and been one trigger pull away from eliminating, only to have an Re3 ruin everything.

Now he lay before him, presented much in the same manner Gerhard Schmidt had been.

"This is too good to be true," the Russian spoke, a rare smirk crossing his icy features as he observed where the bullets had torn through the fabric of his target's t-shirt, ruining the beautiful red dragon design that had adorned the front. Just when he thought the mysterious man had escaped his grasp, fate had smiled upon him.

"A worthy target you were my friend, standing out from the rest of those pathetic worms. For some reason, you were allowed to cross my path," Nicholai said as he reached for his gun and trained it on the prone man's forehead. "Now it ends."

Before the supervisor could pull the trigger, an earth-shattering roar echoed throughout the building, one that was familiar to the former Spetsnaz operative.

"It's here already?" he asked aloud, disbelief evident towards the end of his question.

He heard the thundering footsteps that nearly shook the ground with every demonic stride, and they sounded like they were coming from within the slaughterhouse itself.

Nicholai knew full well what he was dealing with and that there was no way he could deal with it now.

"_Not with these weapons," _he thought to himself as he looked down to his SIG Pro and fragmentation grenades, as well as his PSG-1 sniper rifle and M-4 carbine assault rifle. He noticed the fallen man carried the same kind of rifle as well, possibly having picked it up from another U.B.C.S. operative. Scooping it up, he ejected the clip to find it full and then shoved it into one of his numerous pouches.

The supervisor took one last look at the fallen man and smiled.

"I don't know if you're alive or not, either way you don't have much time left,"he said as he listened to the booming footfalls getting closer and closer before making his escape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Unknown to his assailant, Jake Cavanaugh was neither as dead nor as doomed as thought to be.

The hitman's fingers began to slowly wiggle and his lower lip began to quiver.

It would take more than one vicious sneak attack to put him out of commission.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: What's this? An "unseen monster" rather than me stating flat out who it is? My I'm being an evil little bastard with this latest cliffhanger! Otherwise, this has been a chapter marked by a few returns and a few faces that are familiar to anybody who has played "Outbreak – File 2" (which I haven't) or familiar names to anybody who has read the original "Darkness Arises."

For anybody who plays "Outbreak – File 2," or at least has access to YouTube, you'll recognize the scene with Arnold shooting Linda that I've incorporated. According to the official RE canon, this event doesn't take place until around October 1, but for storyline sake I've bumped it up a few days in advance, which is September 28 as of this chapter. Then again, I doubt a lot of those games are really considered canonical in some aspects anyway, so I figured "What the hell? I doubt too many people will piss and moan about it anyway," especially seeing how Jake Cavanaugh isn't even considered a canonical character in the RE universe!

Well alright this has been my latest update so until then, please be kind and read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	27. Ch 26: The Angel from the STARS

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: In a much shorter span of time compared to my last update I bring you my next! Once you read the title though, you'll probably figure out right away who makes a guest appearance in this chapter.

Until then, read and review! Now on with the story!

Chapter 26: The Angel from the S.T.A.R.S.

**September 28, 1998 **

"Hey! Are you alright?" a woman's voice called out.

A pitch black abyss of nothingness was all he could see around him.

"Sir, are you alright? Please, speak to me!" the same voice pleaded.

The lack of feeling felt pleasant at first, but the more and more he heard the voice, everything began to shake like one huge earthquake.

"Oh no, please be alright!" the voice spoke.

Without warning, the shaking stopped and a bright light overtook his senses, and then he felt the sharp stabbing pains all over and he cried out in agony.

"No, you're hurt! Don't move!" the woman ordered.

As the air reentered his lungs, all Jake Cavanaugh could feel was a powerful pain shooting up and down his spinal cord, traveling throughout the rest of his body, crippling his throat and making it feel like it was going to collapse, making his skull feel like it wanted to explode, stabbing icy daggers into the six spots where he had been shot, his stomach feeling like it was being pulled in a bunch of different directions, and all of his muscles tensing up in simultaneous discord.

"No! Don't move!" the voice called out again.

He couldn't even feel his arm being held down by the unseen individual, all he could feel was the blood flowing through his head and the pain thundering throughout his skull. The hitman felt as if he were trapped in a small chest and needed to escape, he had to open his eyes. Doing so would produce dire consequences, but he had no other choice.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, his facial muscles contorted and he slowly opened his eyes.

"You're waking up, can you see me?" the woman asked.

Right now all he could see was a mass of colors of all different shades swimming around above him, light blue contrasting against several shades of light brown and peach. His senses assaulted, he shut his eyes and blinked them open and shut until things began piecing together and the colors began transforming into tangible shapes.

"Can you hear me?" the voice again called out.

Jake stared in the voice's direction and the faint outlines of a human figure began to materialize. At the same time, he began to feel the hand touching his arm, a warm human hand. The touch was that of a delicate, feminine essence, one that dulled the pain. His mind reminded him that the nameless person above was waiting for an answer. Unable to speak, all he could do was sigh, giving away the pain he felt.

"Hold still Mister, I'm going to do what I can," the woman said squeezing his hand. The sensation made him tighten his grip around her hand.

"Who…" he grunted as he felt his heart rate beginning to slow down and some of his muscles starting to relax. It was then he could make out some of the woman's distinctive facial features materializing before him, a pair of bright blue eyes staring down upon him and a set of luscious pink lips offering him an encouraging smile as the rest of her features appeared as a whole, "…are…you…" he finished.

"I'm sorry, but we'll have to save the introductions for later. Right now I have to treat your wounds," she explained as she reached for some unseen supplies.

She was an attractive young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties with short, stylishly cut chestnut colored hair that complimented her fair complexion. Her outfit consisted of a blue tube top and a black mini-skirt with a white sweater wrapped around her waist. He also noticed a pair of brown boots that came up to her knees and rolled his head to the side, seeing a Penn Arms L1 grenade launcher resting on the ground next to him.

"Ugh…just do whatever you have to lady!" the hitman grunted before spitting out globs of mucus gathered in his throat. He would cry out in pain as his head made contact with the concrete beneath him. It felt as if somebody had walloped him from behind with a baseball bat a million times over. A sticky feeling on his scalp affirmed he had been busted open and could see the edges of a small pool of blood.

In his twenty-four years of life, Jake had already endured his fair share of hangovers, but this was no hangover he was waking up from, this almost felt like an entire beating.

"Okay, but stay still. You've taken a nasty bump to the back of your head and you've been shot," the woman spoke as she reached for a can of Umbrella manufactured first-aid spray and some bandages.

"This isn't the first major spill I've taken in this shithole…wouldn't make much difference anyway," Jake grunted with a tone of sarcasm as he felt a jacket being placed beneath his neck as a pillow.

"This is going to sting a little so you'll have to bear with me. I don't want you to move too far either, so I might not get much on," the mysterious woman instructed as she shook the can and placed her hand underneath his bloodied head.

The assassin winced as he felt the substance being sprayed onto his scalp and vertex. It burned and stung as it sunk in, but he had to fight the urge to scratch or else his wounds wouldn't heal. He also had to brace himself as some cotton swabs were placed onto the back of his head and a sterile bandage was wrapped around it.

"There, you're not exactly as good as new, but it's the least I can do right now. I'm not trained in field medicine and the nearest hospital is halfway across town, although it's probably overrun like everything else I've come across so far. We're gonna have to make due with what I've got right now. We'll have to wait until we get out of here before you can get some better help," she spoke, kneeling beside him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Heh…thanks miss; you're a regular angel on the battlefield," he smirked, "but now if you'll excuse me…"

Summoning up all of his strength with a mighty roar, Jake tried to force himself into a sitting position, only to let out an agonizing scream and fall backwards.

"What do you think you're doing?" the woman half-shouted as she caught him, "Do you have some kind of death wish or something? You are in no position to be moving around right now," she scolded.

"Grr…lady I don't have much choice!" he shot back, "We have to get out of here before those rotting freaks sniff us out! I appreciate everything you've just done for me, but we're not going to get much farther if I have to lie here all night! Now help me up!" he ordered.

"But you've been shot!" she protested.

"Not quite," Jake chuckled as he pulled up his t-shirt to reveal the Kevlar bulletproof vest underneath. "Some fucker tried to shoot me before you found me…I had this baby here to save my ass. Now I know it was in my better judgment to take it," he said with an anguished smile, "Too bad the asshole had to ruin my favorite shirt."

"Wait a minute, who shot you?" the woman demanded, "Is he nearby?" she spoke raising the grenade launcher, ready to fire upon any unseen attackers.

"I'll tell you later, right now we have to get out of here. If you don't help me up, I'll just have to claw my way up," Jake ordered again and struggled to rise back into a sitting position.

"Okay, just take it nice and easy," she said as she positioned herself under his right arm and then moved him towards the nearby staircase so he could brace himself against the railing. With a mighty heave, Jake was able to bring himself up to a knee and with his remaining strength managed to rise back to his feet, but collapsed onto the stairs while being supported by the woman.

"Thanks," he groaned as he now realized his head was not the only part of his anatomy that felt like it had been broken in half. His neck, back, shoulders and right arm ached from his collision with the ground and his legs felt like jelly from his lightheadedness. He pressed against his chest where he had been shot and winced again.

The vest had done its job in preventing the bullets from penetrating his flesh, but he still felt as if he had been struck by several bricks and would no doubt have some pretty nasty looking bruises underneath.

"Can you move by yourself?" the woman asked as she kept his right arm wrapped around her shoulders while he sat on one of the steps.

"Relax, I'll manage," he said gently shrugging her off, "I may be in a lot of pain right now, but at least I'm still around to complain about it," he said shooting her a forced grin with one eye open and raising a shaky thumbs up.

The woman looked at him with great hesitation, but then nodded, "Fine…alright then, but first let me do something," she said raising the canister. She sprayed what remained of the first-aid substance all over Jake's body and kept a close eye on him as he managed to stand without support.

"Thanks, I owe you my bacon. Now do you mind telling me who you are and what you're doing in a place like this?" Jake asked as he withdrew his shotgun and checked to see how much ammo was left.

"Okay," she began as the two of them started out of the slaughterhouse, "my name is Jill Valentine and I used to be a member of the Raccoon Police Department's S.T.A.R.S. unit."

It was Jill Valentine, the very woman Brad was looking for!

"Jill Valentine? I've heard your name before," he spoke, causing her to look at him in surprise, "I encountered one of your teammates a few days ago, some guy named Brad Vickers…" he told her as they moved towards an exit.

"You saw Brad?" she asked in astonishment.

"Yeah, he told me he was looking for you. He said something about getting the hell out of dodge and then we got jumped by some eight foot tall freak show with a rocket launcher," the hitman continued.

Mentioning the monster caused the woman to pale and then look away in sorrow.

"I take it you met the bastard too?" he inquired.

"Yes…" she trailed off, "…and so did Brad."

"Is he…" Jake was about to ask, but then refrained from speaking the last word when he saw the look on the former S.T.A.R.S. member's face. Her look alone told him that the beast him and Brad encountered had managed to find him and that he did not make it out alive in the end.

_"It can't be! I dropped an entire building on that motherfucker!" _he thought, remembering the brutish demon and how both he and Brad had barely made it out alive, trying to hide his disbelief in front of the woman.

"I'm sorry to hear that. My name is Jake by the way, Jake Smith. I came to this place looking for a vacation, but instead I found myself in the middle of all this bullshit," the hired gun spoke, again using his alias. He looked the woman over, finding her to be very attractive, but thought it sucked that she had turned out to be a pig of all things.

"Ironic how the second I arrive in town things suddenly go to hell," he laughed to himself.

"Don't worry; it's not your fault…its Umbrella's!" Jill spoke, unleashing her pent up rage.

"Umbrella, Inc.? The international pharmaceutical company?" he asked, playing dumb with the officer. He knew he would have to be careful around her, knowing the intensive psychological training officers went through to uncover acts played by suspects who tried to lie their way out of the possible consequences.

"Yes, that Umbrella, a company that claims to be aimed at creating cures for all known diseases and bettering humanity. Trust me, it's all a charade. In reality, they are nothing more than a bunch of corrupt bastards running illegal bio-weapons experiments aimed at only increasing the amount of money in their own wallets," she spat, thinking about what had just happened to Brad at the hands of the large stalking creature.

"Damn, that's some deep shit…" Jake trailed on pretending the news dazed him. He had received the information about Umbrella's shady dealings and bizarre experimentation in the envelope left on his doorstep, so he already had an idea of what he was going up against.

The two survivors walked down the alley where Jill proceeded to tell him everything she knew about the Spencer Estate incident, only this time with more intimate details of what she and the others had encountered inside the mansion, and of the web of death and deception that had stumbled into, ending with Captain Wesker's betrayal and the eventual destruction of the mansion.

Her descriptions then fast forwarded to the present, where she had agreed to stay behind in the city to keep further tabs on Umbrella's activities and possible rumors of Chief Irons' involvement with the company when all of the madness began occurring.

Jake already knew some of the information he was being told, but continued to act as if he were hearing all of this for the very first time.

"Man, this is some seriously fucked up shit! Those bastards need to be stopped!" he spoke with conviction.

Even if William Birkin was wanted dead by someone for their own selfish reasons, he still felt he would be doing the whole world a favor by putting someone like him out of his misery.

XXXXXXX

BANG!

With a round to the face, the final zombie collapsed onto the pile of its massacred undead brethren.

"And another one bites the dust," Nicholai stated in his typical cool, humorless fashion as he observed his recent dirty work, having taken down eight infected denizens in one fell swoop, using the very sharp shooting skills he had perfected as a member of Spetsnaz.

He stared down upon the fresh kills, making sure he had dispatched all of them with clear head shots so they would not rise again to become those 'Crimson Heads.' Despite the heightened threat they posed, he did not fear the red-skinned zombies, he feared no zombie at all, knowing of every way possible to dispose of them. Still, he knew of the challenge and wasn't about to tempt his luck.

He still remembered that incident from six years ago, at that one facility in the northern Canadian wilderness. There had been a viral leak and the sergeant and his platoon were sent in to cleanse the area. It had seemed like a simple enough task at first, but then he remembered that one researcher he had shot up in the building's lobby, thinking he had done enough damage to neutralize its threat.

A few hours later he and his men had returned to the lobby, only for the 'dead' zombie to spring back to life in its red-skinned form, slashing him across the chest, but failing to penetrate the armor beneath. It had been a point blank shotgun blast from Mikhail Victor that had saved his life by mere inches.

It was an incident he used as a lesson to prevent him from becoming too careless further along the line, a reminder that the carriers were still dangerous even if they were stupid, a lesson many of the rookies who had perished upon touchdown had forgotten.

Thinking of his fellow operatives made him realize that it had been quite a while since he happened across any survivors since Schmidt and that man in black he ambushed, civilian or U.B.C.S. personnel.

Deep down he knew there were survivors present within the city's confines. There were _always_ stragglers he reminded himself as he made his way onto Gentry Drive, where he could hear the ear-piercing shrieks of a woman over the crackle of fire and moans of her attackers.

Helping them was nothing but a waste of time to him. All they ever did was slow him down and he noticed how many before him had lost their lives trying to save them from certain doom, sacrificing their lives only for the civilian to die seconds later. Unless it was specified by his superiors, it was never his job to save them; they were on their own as far as he was concerned.

The callous supervisor made his way down the war torn street, surrounded by smashed up, bullet riddled cars covered in dried blood, stores that had been ransacked, tenements that were either ablaze or in various states of near collapse, and as always, a multitude of corpses, either shot up, incinerated, dismembered or eaten alive.

_"Nothing new," _Nicholai thought to himself as he approached an abandoned school bus, where a blond-haired teenage boy in a filthy denim outfit shambled towards him, letting out a moan constricted by a jaw threatening to fall off his face at any second.

In clockwork fashion, he raised his sidearm and fired a round into the adolescent's face, watching as he fell backwards against the bus, a crimson streak following him as he collapsed at an awkward position.

The Russian mercenary continued down the street until he was halted by a blazing inferno, where an oil tanker had overturned and its payload looked to have been released and set ablaze. He could smell the stench of burning flesh and knew what its purpose had been for.

Undeterred by the obstruction, Nicholai made his way into a nearby alley and through an iron gate, where he stopped again upon hearing the pounding of numerous sets of footsteps, followed by the bark of an infected dog, or 'MA-39 Cerberus' as researchers called them, and then a shotgun blast.

"Hurry, there's more of those things coming!" a youthful voice called out, followed by the rattle of automatic fire.

The supervisor remained on alert with his Colt M4A1 as four men clambered around a corner, all of them clad in U.B.C.S. fatigues, the last man stopping to fire repeated blasts from his shotgun before turning to join the others. They came to a collective halt upon taking notice of him.

"Sgt. Ginovaef, thank God!" the soldier at the front of the pack gasped, a young man with short chestnut brown colored hair who carried an M4A1 with an M-203 grenade launcher attached beneath the barrel.

He recognized the man as Zane Destro, a former member of the French Foreign Legion who had been drafted into Umbrella's service after being saved from a pending execution for desertion. The young man knew much about vehicles and served as his unit's vehicle specialist, as well as being a decent shot and competent with explosives.

"What is your situation report?" Nicholai demanded, even though he could see they were battered, exhausted and had just escaped a narrow death.

"Not good, we've lost contact with the rest of our unit," another man spoke with a heavy French accent, wearing a forest green beanie atop his head with strands of sandy blond hair sticking out beneath and carrying a STI Eagle 6.0 handgun with an attached scope. He was Maurice Bedard, the marksman for Echo Team. Come to think of it, all of the men standing before him belonged to that unit.

"Not to mention we almost got our throats torn out by some damned flea-bitten mongrels," groaned a brawny dark-haired man reclining against a nearby wall, a Benelli M3 resting in his hands and 12-gauge shells lining his tactical vest. This man was Beau Hambert, a former U.S. Navy S.E.A.L. who was dishonorably discharged for crippling a rival from his former platoon.

At the very back of the group was another dark-haired man with a tanned complexion who clutched his H&K MP5A3 for dear life, communicating his anxiety through heavy, ragged breaths. A medical kit was slung around his shoulder and right away the sergeant recognized him as Ariel Slovak, a former member of the Israeli Defense Forces' Sayeret Matkal who now served as Echo's scout and backup medic.

The U.B.C.S. sergeant surveyed the men with a furtive glance before speaking, "Alright, first things first, we need to find a safe place where we can lay low for awhile and scrounge up any possible supplies. Next, we need to establish some form of communication with anybody possible, be it members of our unit, local law enforcement or any survivors."

"I hate to say it Sergeant, but I honestly don't think there are any left," Private Destro sighed in defeat, "We just lost a few civilians we had managed to round up…all butchered by those demon dogs…I don't think there's anybody else left."

Nicholai narrowed his eyes at the young soldier, "There are always survivors, you just need to know where to look," his tone almost casual.

Meanwhile, Slovak stood in position with his submachine gun held in shaky hands, on the verge of losing control of his bowel movements. His heart pounded like a jackhammer and his teeth chattered beneath his closed lips, causing involuntary facial twitches.

The nervous man's ears perked up as a series of clicks reverberated off the stone surfaces.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

He opened his mouth to speak, but only a strangled gasp escaped. His mind screamed at him to raise his weapon, but his arms would not cooperate, his muscles again twitching beyond control.

The repeated clicking magnified, sounding ten times louder than it should have. Again, the Israeli's mind screamed at him to raise his gun, but he found himself rooted to his spot.

"Alright men, let's move out!" Nicholai ordered, knowing he would have to be careful so the operatives wouldn't discover his true motives.

"_Besides, if they find anything out, they'll just end up like Schmidt," _he reminded himself, just as a piercing screech came from the darkness of the alley's opposite end.

"They're here!" Slovak finally shouted and depressed the trigger of his MP5A3.

The flash of his submachine gun illuminated the darkened space and through it, Nicholai and the others were able to make out the multi-limbed form of a bug-like creature charging towards them.

"The Drain Deimos?" he whispered to himself.

Torrents of green blood splashed all over the scout as he fired until his clip ran out. He had only succeeded in stunning the creature leading the pack when another suddenly appeared behind its 'brother' and wasted no time tearing into him with its scythe-like appendages.

"Run!" Nicholai hollered, whirling on his heel and running in the opposite direction as the others stayed behind to fire.

Hambert pumped his shotgun and fired two shells into the second Drain Deimos, the first blowing off one of its extra limbs and the second obliterating its face.

Before the second mutant insect could even hit the ground, the first one, whom Slovak had only succeeded in stunning, had already recovered and shot its clawed hand out before the brawny man could fire another shell, sending a clean vertical slash down the center of his left forearm and through his distinctive succubus tattoo.

A third mutated bug soon followed and together they savaged the big man's body while Destro and Bedard both fired everything they had at the nightmarish monsters, taking down the monster that had already been weakened by Slovak and wounding the other.

The bleeding insect screeched in rage as green bodily fluids cascaded down its segmented surface and charged forward as the two Frenchmen continued firing in frantic unison, leaping into the air and landing on top of Bedard.

"Maurice!" Destro called out as he took aim, but held back out of fear of hitting his friend.

"Run! Save yourself!" Bedard hollered as he shot his hand out for his customized handgun, but was unable to move and cried on in pain as gooey bile dripped onto his face.

"Come on," Nicholai shouted as he spotted another Drain Deimos scaling the walls overhead and grabbed Destro by his harness, trying to drag him back.

It took an ear-piercing shriek of agony to break Zane out of his trance and by the time he did it was too late; his friend was in the middle of having his intestines devoured. Taking notice of the other mutant above him, he fired away until his gun clicked empty and turned to chase after the sergeant.

By now Nicholai was fast approaching the end of the alley, when he was halted by another wooden barricade erected by the R.P.D., where several zombies pounded away from the other side. To his left was a heavy-looking steel door and he hefted it open, throwing himself inside and slamming it shut before fastening the lock.

"Hey, let me in!" Private Destro called out from the other side, "Please Sergeant, let me in!" he screamed repeatedly, breaking down into tears as the shrieks of the Drain Deimos got closer. Within seconds there was a final scream of misery, followed by repeated wet slashes.

Nicholai listened as another beast joined in and took turns ripping the flesh away from the young operative's body. Having seen many perish before him, he was desensitized to the brutal massacre and stood unmoving as he heard the distinctive noise of a head being ripped from a man's shoulders.

"_You wouldn't have made it anyway Destro," _the supervisor thought to himself, knowing of the young Frenchman's headstrong, temperamental nature that had nearly gotten him killed before.

He was about to pull out his laptop to record data for the recent kills when he heard a woman's voice.

"Oh my god look!"

"That came from outside," he whispered to himself as he made his way through the dark workshop and hugged the wall alongside one of the grimy windows, listening for the footsteps pounding the pavement. Inching further and further, he spotted two individuals, a man and a woman, hovering over the corpse of Jonas Ackerland, a member of Lt. Victor's detachment.

"He shot himself," he overheard the woman saying as she reached down for a small lavender book.

She appeared to be in her early twenties with short hair and wore a blue tube top, black miniskirt and had a white sweater wrapped around her waist. A grenade launcher was strapped to her back and she pulled out what looked like a customized Beretta 92F as she reached for a box of ammo found on the merc's corpse.

The man on the other hand Nicholai recognized and a look of shock crossed his features.

"_What? It cannot be…that monster spared him…" _the Russian thought to himself as he as he observed the dark-haired man in black. A bloody bandage was now wrapped around his head and from the side he could see the shredded fabric of his t-shirt. _"Guess he can't be any ordinary 'civvie' if he has a bulletproof vest on."_

The young woman turned to address him, "Come on, we should go through here and see what else we can find."

"_Got yourself a little girlfriend now?" _Nicholai asked himself as he pulled out his digital camera and managed to get a quick picture of her before they disappeared through a nearby gate. He would upload her photo onto the company's website and see if they could dig up any information on her.

Machinegun fire rang out from a distance, followed by a man's dying screams, dogs barking, and the booms of more than one shotgun.

XXXXXXXXX

"Another close call," Jake gasped, ejecting the last spent shell casing from his shotgun.

He studied the maimed corpses of the zombified Dobermans that had attacked him and Jill the second they set foot on their current street. There had been three of them in the middle of tearing apart another U.B.C.S. operative when they entered. A few seconds sooner and they probably could have saved the man, but now was not the time to think about that.

The two of them were standing outside a parking garage located on another street that had seen a great deal of carnage. Several wrecked cars littered the street in haphazard fashion like discarded children's toys, including a city bus crushing three cars beneath its considerable bulk. Jill recoiled in horror as she noticed a dead body dangling out of the front window, impaled on a large shard of glass.

Peering closer into the blood-splattered windows, Jake noticed a few silhouetted non-moving forms present in the wrecked vehicle and turned away just as a thud rang out behind him. Turning around, he noticed a ghoulish white hand rubbing against the glass surface, leaving bloody smears with every movement, followed by the rest of the zombie lunging towards him, unable to crack the reinforced glass.

With a shake of his head, he made his way towards Jill, who was just finishing up with the soldier's body.

"Find anything?" Jake asked as he looked down upon the carcass of a hell hound whose head was obliterated by a shotgun blast while it was airborne.

A small smile crossed the ex-cop's features as she raised a box of shotgun shells into the air, "I found this, it has twenty-four shells inside. How are you holding up?"

"I'm…" Jake started as he started digging through his pockets, realizing he was out of regular shells. "Shit," he muttered to himself as fumbled around for anything he could find, until his fingers brushed up against a small box and he pulled it out, smiling at his discovery.

It was the box of enhanced Black Taurus rounds Joe Kendo had mixed together for him at the bank a few days ago. He almost forgot he still had these.

"Never mind, I'm doing alright with this bad boy," the hitman replied as he began sliding rounds into the tube magazine.

"Any ideas where we might find somebody else?" Jake asked staring down at the man's corpse.

Jill stood up and turned to face him, "The Grill 13 restaurant is nearby. It's a popular hangout around town, maybe we could look there, that and there's the Raccoon Press on Park Street. We'll have to take a shortcut," she said looking over to the wooden barricades barring their escape and made a run for the garage entrance.

Jake followed close behind, but no sooner than he made it he dodged to the right as another zombie dog leapt in his direction, executed by a shotgun blast from Jill. Before he could thank her, another mangled pooch came charging.

"Look out!" he shouted and fired a shell into the creature's skull before it could go airborne.

"Wow, I owe you one now," Jill smiled, placing a hand on her hip while the other held her shotgun brushing against the ground.

"Heh, no problem, most I could do for the way you helped me back there. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be zombie chow by now," he nodded.

Never in his mind did he think he would owe his safety to a police officer of all people. Normally, they would be ganging up on him and trying to throw his ass into the nearest eight by six foot cell, but during his stay in the overrun city they had relied upon his help. He could only hope nobody around this place was aware of his reputation.

XXXXXXXXXXX

It lumbered through the streets in search of its prey. So far it had already claimed one of its intended targets, the cowardly man in the yellow vest who had eluded it several days earlier. Now only one target remained, the woman.

She was a crafty individual who had already eluded him on two separate occasions and had managed to knock him out with the pitiful weapons she carried. His target was a slick one, but she was only delaying the inevitable.

He would catch her and kill her like he had been programmed to do.

The eerie silence was shattered as the creature's thunderous footsteps boomed like miniature earthquakes, warning any souls nearby to seek shelter or risk being sucked into its destructive path.

Pure instinct drove the infernal beast as it hunted for its remaining target. It had to keep repeating its single word to itself to remind it to stay on track. It didn't have ears, but it could still sense movement from a mile away. Its drive to complete its task made it ten times more dangerous than any other terror combined.

The fact that it could even think of a task to complete other than mindlessly wandering around looking to satisfy an insatiable hunger truly made it a force to be reckoned with.

The beast grunted to itself as it strode down another darkened alleyway, backhanding and tossing aside any infected citizens standing in its way with great ease. It could sense the activity around it, the gunshots, crackling flames, sounds of the other creatures lurking about, and the cries of other pitiful survivors, but none were of the woman it was searching for.

Had the woman evaded him?

"Quick! Over there!" a voice called out.

It was her, she was nearby!

"Right behind you!" a masculine voice added, another the creature recognized.

It was that unknown human who had been with its previous target. Thinking of this nameless man made the behemoth's blood boil. Whoever this person was, he had already shot him several times with a high-powered firearm and had leveled an entire building on top of him.

He too would be fair game.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

XXXXXXXXXXX

With all the force she could muster up, Jill flung herself through the opened door and hit the cold concrete with a thud.

Jake was right on her heels, firing enhanced blasts into the darkness behind them before spotting the swinging door and slamming it shut with a resounding boom. Pressing his muscular frame against the door, he sunk to the ground huffing and puffing while listening for more screeching noises from those bug-like creatures, but heard nothing. Perhaps that last shot had done away with the last one who had pursued them through the construction site.

Taking a deep breath, the hired gun stepped away from the door and winced as he felt the pain in his shoulder from the shotgun's recoil, amplified by those Black Taurus rounds. It had been a while since he used them and forgot how they almost ripped his arm out of its socket when fired.

He looked over to find Jill scrambling back to her feet and fishing for shells for her Benelli.

"What the hell were those things?" she uttered. Despite having survived an entire mansion full of zombies and other genetically engineered monstrosities, she still found herself flabbergasted by those hairy bug-like creatures they had just blasted through, which almost reminded her of those hideous Chimeras.

"Nothing new to me," Jake replied after taking a heavy breath, "I encountered a bunch of those freaks back at the bank. I have no idea what the fuck those things are called and frankly, I don't think I wanna know either," he finished checking over his shotgun.

"They just get uglier and uglier," Jill said loading her last shell into place.

Gunshots rang out from a distance and they looked over to find another man clad in U.B.C.S. gear gunning down a zombie.

"Scumbag!" he shouted as the creature hit the ground and ran off.

"Quick! Over there!" the ex-cop shouted, pointing in the man's direction and chasing after him.

"Right behind you," Jake replied as he followed her past some bizarre war memorial and down the street towards the very building Jill had mentioned, the Grill 13 restaurant.

"Here it is!" she called back making her way inside.

Grill 13 was smaller than he expected for being one of the most popular hangouts in all of Raccoon City and for now it appeared to be clear of all possible threats, the nameless soldier nowhere to be found.

The bright red walls and booths seemed to mock the hitman as if they were painted by the blood of all the innocents who had perished, burning so brightly he was forced to shield his eyes.

"Everything alright," Jill asked with a look of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine…never better," Jake replied, noticing the partially consumed food and drinks littering the tables, yet no blood was present to indicate any signs of struggle. He did however spot a welcome sight on one of the nearby tables.

"Bullets," he whispered, walking over to the table and scooping up the two boxes, walking over and giving one to Jill.

"Thank you," she said making her way over to the kitchen entrance, "I'm going to see if there's anything we can use in here," she said before disappearing from sight.

Jake stood guard in the dining area and kept a close eye on the entrance, reclining against the front counter with his shotgun hanging at his side.

He again returned his attention to the abandoned booths, observing the belongings that had been left behind and wondering if he could really determine some of the personalities of their former owners.

To him, this looked like the kind of place where he could picture an entire family enjoying a night on the town, a couple enjoying their first date, children running about to release their pent up energy, cops gathering after their shifts are over to share stories of their recent busts…so many different possibilities.

As with everybody else, they were all probably lumbering about as part of the masses of living dead.

"_Why should I think otherwise? Everything around here is dead," _Jake told himself as he picked a brochure off one of the tables, a basic introduction to Raccoon City's history. When he saw how it glorified Umbrella as if they were the saviors of the free world and could do no wrong he crumpled it up and tossed it aside.

"Hey Jake, come here I think I found something!" Jill called out.

Rushing over to the kitchen area he found the S.T.A.R.S. operative standing over a hatch with a rusty fire hook in hand.

"Think we might find anything down there?" he asked motioning towards the hatch.

"We won't know unless we look," she said offering him the hook while she kept her shotgun drawn, focusing for threats on both the back door and the kitchen entrance.

"Here we go," Jake said as he slid the hook into the opening and with a grunt of exertion, pried the heavy lid open.

Hit by an instant breeze of cool air, both the hitman and his companion peered down into the basement and saw a man slumped in the corner with his chest torn open.

Before they could climb down, they were distracted by more footsteps coming from the dining area and leapt into position with their shotguns drawn.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Jill demanded.

A young man of Latin descent with neck-length dark brown hair and matching eyes ran into view, clad in U.B.C.S. gear and wielding an M4A1 carbine.

"Calm down people, I'm no zombie," he spoke lowering his weapon, "My name is Carlos and I'm a corporal in the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. What are your names?"

"I'm Jill and he's Jake," the ex-cop said introducing both of them before getting down to business, "Did you just say you belong to Umbrella's army?"

"Yeah, we came all the way out here to save any survivors, but the mission went bad the minute we landed," the operative explained.

"I know what he's talking about, I encountered a few of his men around here," Jake spoke up, catching both of them by surprise.

Carlos' eyes widened at the announcement, "You saw some of my guys? Where are they? Are they still alive?"

"They were the last time I saw them," Jake explained, only to be cut off by the back door slamming and the roar that followed.

Jill paled at the demonic howl, "No. How did he find me?"

Jake's eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized its distinct timbre.

"Over here!" Jill shouted and rushed back into the dining area. Both she and Carlos knelt beneath the counter while Jake hugged the wall with his shotgun gripped in white knuckle anticipation.

The hired gun peeked his head out to see the broad-shouldered monstrosity plodding around the corner, striking a gas tank with one of its tree trunk-like forearms and causing a leak. Its ashen skin was further blackened and its trench coat sported several tears, but other than that it seemed untouched and marched forth with murderous vigor.

Seeing the oil-based lamp on the counter before her Jill scooped it up and looked over to her companions, "Get ready boys," she said before tossing it towards the gas leak.

An explosion followed and an earth-shattering tremor knocked all three survivors to the floor, just as the undead giant was flung forward and slumped over the counter with its arms dangling beneath it.

"Holy shit!" Carlos blurted out as he was almost struck by one of the unconscious monster's massive fists and scuttled backwards against a partition before staggering back to his feet, "Are you crazy? You could've barbecued all of us!"

Jill said nothing in reply, backing away from the beast with her shotgun trained on its head.

Jake doubted the creature was dead. This blast had been miniscule compared to the one he engineered back at the hardware store and if it had been able to survive that, then a small explosion like this would only serve to knock it out.

"We should go now," he said backing towards the entrance and never taking his eyes away from their prone adversary.

"Come on," Jill said leading the way back towards the front entrance.

"S.T.A.R.S."

The trio turned to see the monster rising back to its feet, taking out a chunk of the wall above it as it threw its head back and unleashed a mighty roar, focusing its attention towards Jill.

"Oh no you don't!" the woman shouted in defiance, raising her grenade launcher and firing an acid round into the creature's chest. The monster grunted as the acid seared through the material into its broad chest, only to shrug it off as if it had been struck by a water balloon.

Grunting in disgust, Jill fired another round and struck it in the same spot as before, knocking it back a few steps as an angry hiss echoed through the room. The creature continued its advance, taking everything fired at it like it was nothing.

"C'mon goddamn it! I've knocked your ass down twice before and I can do it again!" she shouted as she fired another round into the creature's stomach before squeezing the trigger again, only to have nothing happen. Before she knew it, her pursuer towered over her with its right hand drawn back.

TATATATATATATATATATATATATAT!

BL-BLAM! BL-BLAM! BL-BLAM! BL-BLAM! BL-BLAM!

A mixture of assault rifle fire and shotgun blasts cut through the air and the monster was stopped by the series of rounds pounding away at its back. It would only growl in pain as it turned to face its assailants.

Carlos and Jake stood side by side firing everything they had at the creature in hopes of saving their newfound companion. They both grunted in desperation as the towering beast seemed to shrug off their rounds, much like it had with Jill's acidic rounds. However, they could see that Jill was beginning to regain her bearings and was loading an explosive canister into her grenade launcher.

"Jill don't!" Carlos cried out, "We're in a confined space, you could blow us all up!" he shouted while firing a barrage of rounds into the monster's chest and face, which only pissed it off and left it charging at both of them.

"Shit!" Jake cried out as he saw the creature sprint towards him with its arm extended outward. Before it could connect, he rolled out of the way.

Carlos wasn't as lucky as the beast clotheslined him backwards into the nearest wall, cracking it upon impact.

Jake reloaded his shotgun, "Hey freak! Over here!"

As the behemoth turned to him, he unloaded a round of enhanced buckshot into its face, knocking it back a few steps and sending its purple blood splattering all over the surrounding walls and appliances. He didn't stop there as he continued firing round after round into the creature, showing no mercy as he knew his attacker would show him none.

More powerful rounds slammed into the creature's chest and he spotted Jill running towards him, firing rounds from a magnum identical to his own.

"Come on!" she shouted at the creature as she ran alongside it, ducking under an attempted swing. Within seconds she was standing alongside Jake, firing what she had into her stalker.

Carlos meanwhile was regaining his senses and staggered back to his feet, using his assault rifle as a brace. Both the hitman and the ex-S.T.A.R.S. member formed a protective barrier in front of him as they continued taking potshots at their assailant. Letting out another demonic roar, the monster charged forth with its fist drawn backwards.

"Heads up," Jake shouted to Carlos, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him aside. A split second later, the monster's gigantic fist was driven through the wall.

"Too slow, fuckface!" the hired gun taunted as he fired another round of buckshot into the creature's shoulder.

He was getting low on ammo for his shotgun and would soon be relegated to using his magnum and dual Berettas on the monster. Even if he could only knock the beast out long enough to get a significant distance away from it, it would be worth fighting for.

The rattle of machinegun fire reverberated in the confined space as Carlos resumed his place in the fight against the creature and booms followed as Jill switched back to her shotgun. The monster could only roar in frustration as it took a multitude of rounds to its enhanced body and with a heave, brought its fist down, splintering one of the nearby tables.

The survivors fired away in relentless fashion, directing most of their bullets at the creature's head, but it would be a painful shot to the monster's shoulder that would divert its attention elsewhere.

A loud boom echoed from behind and purple mist sprayed from the mutant's shoulder. Roaring in pain as its blood gushed all over the surrounding furniture like a geyser, it turned around to see the same unknown human standing there with a shotgun in hand.

Jake managed to inflict a painful wound that left the behemoth wailing in pain and swinging its arms around, forcing him to duck a backhand that splintered one of the partitions and shattered its porthole.

He was down to four shells and had only a handful left in reserve, wondering if he would be able to reach for them with as quick as this brute was. He would have to make them count.

"Here goes," he whispered, firing two shots into the monster's chest followed by another shot to its wounded shoulder and then the last round grazing the side of its stitched together head as it picked up speed and snatched the weapon from his hands. With a simple squeeze, the weapon was reduced to pieces.

"Damn it!" he shouted and tried reaching for his magnum, but the brute was faster and delivered a running punch that caught him in the chest, sending the hired gun flying into the wall behind him with a sick thud.

Jake coughed and gagged as he slumped against the wall. Lucky for him, his vest had absorbed most of the impact, but the steel plating underneath was dented and the wind was knocked out of him. He prayed that he had no internal injuries, but didn't have time to think about that as he was backhanded and then felt a large hand wrap around his throat.

The hitman tried to cry out, but the monster's grip was like an iron vice, leaving him no room for even the tiniest gurgle. He could only stare into the monster's hideous face, met by a malicious smile that gave away the brute's murderous intentions as it dangled him in the air like he was nothing. A demonic twinkle shown in the brutish abomination's single white eye as it continued to clamp down on his throat.

Everything was going dark and he could feel the world shutting down around him. He couldn't feel the weightlessness of being suspended in midair, hear the popping of Carlos' rifle or see the acidic round impacting against the monster's back.

"Let him go!" Jill shouted, knowing she had to act fast as the brute was only seconds away from snapping Jake's neck. She had stood by and watched in horror as the monster toyed with Brad before impaling him with some kind of tentacle, unable to do anything about it. Now she had a chance to redeem herself and fired round after round into the black-clad demon's back.

The monster roared in frustration and tossed Jake through the air like a rag doll, sending him flying over a partition and crashing through another table.

Jill sighed in relief, knowing she had saved the man from a gruesome end, but now she had to worry about saving her own skin as the stalker made a beeline towards her.

The ex-S.T.A.R.S. member braced herself as the creature raised its fist and with lightning quick reflexes, rolled under a charging punch, the massive blow destroying the restaurant's cash register in a shower of sparks and metal. She continued her offense as she fired another round into the side of the brute's head, burning away some of the skin from the right side of its face just inches away from its lone eye.

"Fucking die," Carlos shouted, firing the rest of his clip into the giant's chest before taking cover behind a partition to reload.

"S.T.A.R.S." the creature roared again as it took another swing at its target, which Jill had managed to sidestep, but was knocked off balance and struggled to keep a hold of her grenade launcher. Taking another swing, the weapon was knocked from her hands, leaving her wide open for the brute to grab her by the throat and lift her into the air.

"No!" Carlos cried, running up to the creature to fire another barrage into its face, but found himself backhanded and sent flying against the front counter. With him out of the way, the brute was free to return its attention to its intended target and hoisted her back into the air.

Jill didn't want to believe it, but she was starting to think that the end was near as she stared down into the monstrosity's lone soulless eye and saw Death itself staring back at her, the same position Brad had found himself in before his murder. The sick ripping of flesh came from below and she could only watch as the monster raised its left hand and a tentacle sprouted from its wrist.

"S.T.A.R.S." the stalker repeated letting her know this was the end.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The booms of a magnum filled the air and the behemoth jolted as it was struck from behind by the powerful bullets, forcing it to forget about its target and turn around to face its attacker.

Jill fell to the floor clutching her sore throat when she looked up to see her savior before her.

Jake stood before her, looking as if he had just survived a major car wreck. The bandage around his head was now a bright shade of crimson and extra blood flowed out of from beneath, covering his ears and running down his neck. He also bled from the nose and his lower lip had been split open by the backhanded shot. His right cheek had swollen along with a blackened area around his right eye, almost swelling it shut. The mysterious man was also hunched over clutching his side with one hand, but didn't seem to care as he kept his gun raised.

All he cared about was inflicting a painful revenge upon the monster standing before him.

"I'm not dead yet!" Jake announced as he raised his reloaded magnum and fired another round into his attacker's sternum.

The creature growled in pain as purple blood decorated its broad chest. He then lowered his aim and fired a round into its left kneecap before focusing his last four rounds on the beast's upper body, causing it to stagger around as blood gushed from its fresh wounds.

"Quick, I think it's almost down for the count!" Jake called out to Jill as she pulled herself back to her feet and reached for her magnum. Taking aim, she fired her rounds into the monster's neck, sending her last two into the back of its skull before it began to wobble and fell forward to the tile floor, shaking the ground as it connected and splattered purple blood all over.

"Damn it all to hell," Carlos grunted as he struggled back to his feet and then looked down to the prone giant lying on the floor, "Is it dead yet?"

"I don't know and I'm not sticking around to find out," Jill added, backing away from the beast.

Jake felt tempted to unleash an entire speed loader's worth of ammo into the monster's noggin, but relented, knowing it would be a waste of ammo.

"Come on, let's go before 'Sleeping Beauty' decides he wants to go for round two," the hitman said, stumbling over to Jill, who caught him and proceeded to help him towards the back door, where the three of them exited together and found themselves in a back alley leading to a special arcade.

"I'd better go and see if I can find anybody else. Looks like you two are more than capable of handling yourselves," Carlos said as he was about to run off, only to be stopped by Jill.

"Wait, I have to ask you something!" she shouted running after him.

The mercenary turned and smirked towards her, "I know, you wanna ask me out. All the foxy ladies love my accent, it drives them crazy," he said straightening up his hair and winking at her.

Jake grunted in disgust towards him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Okay, if you two are together then I won't even bother going there. That's cool with me!" Carlos said raising his hands in surrender.

Jill looked on in annoyance between both men, "What? Keep dreaming. Tell me, why did Umbrella send your team here?"

"Because we're on a civilian rescue mission," Carlos replied, a little annoyed that he was forced to repeat himself.

"How kind of you," Jill spat, the venom dripping off every word, "considering that Umbrella caused all of this in the first place, those liars!" she shouted, motioning to their current surroundings, where a few shot up zombies could be seen in the background.

"Look, we're just mercenaries. Hired hands," the man spoke in his defense, "Do you really think the master would tell his dog why he would have to retrieve the stick he just threw?"

"He should be obliged to if it's going to mean sending his 'dogs' to the slaughter," Jake chipped in, earning a disgusted frown from Carlos.

"Listen, if you want answers about Umbrella, you're asking the wrong guy. Believe it or not, we're only here to rescue civilians," the corporal repeated as some glass could be heard breaking in the background. "No time for talking. If you can trust me, then help us! Think about it!" and with those words he disappeared from sight.

"What the hell?" Jill asked, sounding offended.

"Sounds like some of those guys must've survived after all," Jake spoke, prompting the ex-cop to face him.

"You said you've seen more of those guys around, do you honestly think that man was telling the truth?" Jill asked, distrust still evident in her tone.

"I don't know what to tell you really. From what I saw, there weren't many of them left and they seemed to be more concerned with saving themselves," the hitman replied, still preoccupied by the shattering glass they heard.

"Yeah, well we'd better get going," Jill said as she swore she could hear dragging footsteps in the distance.

"Wait," Jake said approaching her with his hand outstretched, presenting her with the remaining handful of his enhanced shells, "Take 'em, I won't need them anymore after what that bastard did to my SPAS-12."

"Thank you," Jill said slipping the shells into her side pack, "Are you sure you're good to go in terms of ammo?"

"Relax; I'll manage," Jake said as he slid his magnum back into his shoulder holster and withdrew one of his Berettas, "I've still got plenty left for all three of my guns."

"Alright, let's go," Jill said leading the way out.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Nicholai watched as the two survivors made their way out of the alley from the rooftop of a nearby barber shop, just in time to avoid a quintet of carriers.

"There's something special about you two," he said to himself, having regarded both of them in quiet interest.

An electronic beep came from his laptop and he opened it to find an important message from headquarters, the results of his identity searches.

"Now to find out who you two really are," he said opening the files sent to him, first opening the woman's dossier.

She was listed as Jillian Alice Valentine, born on February 14, 1975 and was raised in Cleveland, Ohio. A following report listed how she had been a member of the Raccoon Police Department's Special Tactics and Rescue Squad after serving time as an explosives specialist in the U.S. Army.

A following article explained her involvement in the Spencer Estate incident back in late July and how she and the other surviving agents had been suspended indefinitely under the pretense of 'operating under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs.'

What further caught the supervisor's attention was how she, along with the others, had hefty bounties placed on their heads.

"_Hmm, if I make it out of here alive with all the data and manage to claim the bitch's head, I could be set for life," _Nicholai thought cocking an eyebrow while scratching his chin, _"Your days of running will be over when I'm through with you."_

The next file displayed the man's pictures, a prison mug shot displaying his frontal and side profile views. He proceeded to read through the convict's vital statistics, listing him as Jacob Randolph Cavanaugh, born on January 12, 1974 in Somerset, California. What followed was a laundry list of convictions the man had racked up, as well as a list of well-known criminal figures he was alleged to have ties with.

"My you certainly are a piece of work Mr. Cavanaugh," the Russian chuckled, "A common hitman it says you are…could that be your business here? And if so, who are you working for? I'm sure the authorities would pay a pretty penny for your head on a platter as well…a 'win-win' scenario."

"_Silver Fox, come in!" _another Russian-accented voice called out over his earpiece, addressing the supervisor by his codename.

It was Sergei Vladimir, Commander of the Monitor branch which was spearheading "Operation: Watchdog," unknown to the lower-level operatives.

"This is Silver Fox, I copy," Nicholai replied.

"_I understand you are under quite an immense workload at the moment comrade, but we have received new orders from the main headquarters. Apparently one of our researchers stationed over at the university laboratory has gone rogue and they are demanding a sample of his work. I am sending you an e-mail detailing your new mission objectives. _

_You are the only one I trust to carry out this mission and I am counting on you," _the Monitor Commander explained.

"Very well, I will not fail you. Silver Fox out," Nicholai said to end the transmission.

Another electronic beep sounded out and he checked his e-mail to find his latest message given the title 'Operation: Emperor's Mushroom.'

"It'll have to wait," the supervisor said rising back to his feet and closing the laptop.

He needed to get back to the trolley car which he and Oliveira had adopted as their temporary headquarters before the youthful corporal could get back and notice he was gone.

To give off the appearance of normalcy, he had agreed to watch over Lt. Victor, who had been cut down in a 'friendly fire' incident trying to help out Murphy Seeker and Tyrell Patrick, the latter of whom Nicholai had been hunting to gain access to his data.

For now, he would have to allow this 'necessary' distraction while he plotted out how to continue his secret missions.

"_The time will come," _he thought to himself as he began making his way over to the next rooftop, letting the carriers wander below for a meal that would never come.

XXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Obviously for storyline sake, I had to alter some of the dialogue, events and items found, an example being the kind of ammo Jill finds on the U.B.C.S. operative's corpse outside the parking garage and the bullets found on the restaurant's table, which in the game were jars of gunpowder. Rather than give Jill the hassle of having to carry around her reloading tool and having to mix the gunpowder right then and there, I saved her the trouble and made them regular ammo, for once being a considerate author towards a character that I do not legally own!

Also in this chapter I gave Jill Valentine's Day as her birthday as an inside joke and Jake I made his birthday on January 12th, my birthday. If he were an actual living person he would be 36 years old today, but since he is a fictional character I can do whatever the hell I want with him, meaning I can modify his year of birth depending on whatever story of mine that he is in and also meaning that he can forever remain your favorite ageless antihero!

Well that's all I have to say so until then, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	28. Ch 27: Separation Anxiety

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 27: Separation Anxiety

Jill led the way as the duo made its way through another rusted steel door, while Jake covered their six with his dual Berettas drawn.

"Hold up," she whispered, motioning with her hand for him to stand guard as she stalked alongside the brick building next to them and pointed her gun around the corner, listening for any possible threats.

"It's clear," the ex-cop reported as she took notice of a dead man to their left in a police uniform near a set of double doors.

Stepping out into the open, Jake found himself drawn to the barred double doors and the sign overhead indicating they had now come to Raccoon City Hall. Knowing they couldn't go any further, he then turned his attention over to the ornate clock at the right.

"What the hell?" he whispered to himself. Granted it looked gorgeous, decorated with beautiful gems that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than on a street where they would be open to an easy theft. He counted eleven jewels altogether, all of them different hues, one of the slots left empty and standing out like a sore thumb to him.

"What the hell's up with this? This supposed to be some kind of fucked up puzzle or what?" the hitman asked as Jill pocketed a clip found on the dead cop's body.

"That's Mayor Warren for you, always a total weirdo," she scoffed, "I swear he's almost as bad as that guy who designed the Spencer Estate."

"Heh, don't need to tell me twice," Jake replied as he followed her down the street.

The Raccoon Press was within walking distance and much to their relief, there were no visible threats present. However, both of them looked up to see fires burning in the building's upper floors.

"Think it could be too risky?" Jill asked, looking over to the hired gun with her shotgun pointed towards the front entrance.

"Heh, you're supposed to be the S.T.A.R.S. member here. I thought you were supposed to be the kind that rushed into these kind of situations head on," Jake chuckled, "Besides, I've survived one burning building already, one that was crawling with skinless freaks who had tongues that were probably longer than you. If I can survive that, I can certainly survive another burning building."

"Alright, we'll see if there's anything useful or anyone who needs to be saved and then we get the hell out," Jill said as she crept towards the entrance and made her way inside.

"Is there any particular reason why we would be coming here of all places?" Jake asked looking around, "This is a newspaper building, can't really think of who would hide out around here."

Jill stopped in place and looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was there before speaking, "Right after the incident at the mansion, we were interviewed by a reporter who worked here, some Alyssa lady…yeah Alyssa Ashcroft her name was!"

Jake's eyes widened at the mention of the assertive reporter's name, remembering how she had fought tooth and nail alongside him and the others a few nights ago, showing herself to be the most competent among the ladies in the group.

At this point he didn't know whether or not she was still alive, thus he would refrain from mentioning her name and allowed the ex-cop to continue her story.

"We tried to tell her and a few others about Umbrella's involvement in the whole ordeal. Naturally, everybody else laughed us off, but she actually seemed to listen to us. I don't know what it was, but it felt almost as if we had reached through to her. She took the most notes, asked the most questions…she even agreed to meet up with Chris and go over some of the evidence we had gathered!

"I don't know exactly, but I feel like we should really check this place out. She might have left something behind that could be of use, or maybe left some indicator of her whereabouts. Knowing Umbrella, if they knew she were talking to us they would be doing whatever they could to shut her up. I feel for her sake we should try to find something," Jill explained before returning her attention to their surroundings.

The lobby was empty, but a steel shutter had been lowered in front of the main stairwell, keeping them from advancing further. Jill looked over to a switchboard positioned above a vending machine that was far out of her reach and then past her companion, where she noticed a stepladder.

"Hold on," she said to Jake as she walked over and began pushing the ladder over to the vending machine, leaving him to stand guard duty as she climbed the small ladder and activated the controls for the shutter. "Okay, it should be ready to go."

The loud whine of grinding steel came from behind, causing the hitman to wince. A whoosh of flames followed and he leapt backward to avoid being burnt, almost scalded by the intense heat alone.

Growling in frustration, he looked over to Jill, who could only blush in embarrassment and offer him a timid, "Sorry."

Shrugging the apology off, Jake watched as his companion dismounted the ladder and made her way towards the stairwell, where a few small fires burned on the steps in front of them.

"Lead the way," he spoke, holstering one of his Berettas and following close behind, a fresh sheen of sweat covering his forehead as he stepped into the enclosed boiling conditions. Feeling the stinging on his skin, he wiped away and brought his hand down, noticing the layer of blood and filth covering his fingertips.

_"That bad, huh?" _he thought to himself as he passed a door on the second floor landing that had been knocked from its hinges by a strong back draft, flicking the gathered filth away as he followed Jill to the third floor offices.

Both of them took sides at the door, able to hear more undead moans through the cracked porthole. From around a corner Jill could spot the dancing silhouette of a zombie stumbling towards then, but before she could open fire, Jake was already kicking the door off of its hinges, sending the undead occupant stumbling backwards beneath it and then stomping down hard on the splintered door, bringing all of his body weight down onto the monster and crushing several of its bones. With the zombie struggling underneath, the hitman finished him off with a round through the cracked window and into its forehead.

The ruckus had alerted another nearby zombie and Jill forced her way inside past her companion, catching a man in a bloodied white dress shirt stumbling through a doorway after her. Without hesitation, she fired a round into the walking cadaver's face and then forced her way into the office, where an untreated fire burned in the northwest corner of the small room.

"All clear?" Jake called out.

"It should be," Jill replied as she rounded a desk, only to cry out in surprise a second later.

Storming into the room, Jake found the ex-cop struggling with an unseen zombie that had been lying on the floor behind the desk. He was about to raise his gun when the woman managed to shake off her attacker.

"Get the…" she shouted in struggle, "…fuck…" she grunted as she freed her foot, "…off!" she finished, bringing her foot back and delivering a swift kick to the menace's head, the sick crack of a shattering spinal cord following.

"You alright," Jake asked, keeping his gun trained in the woman's direction, in case she had been scratched.

"It's okay…really I'm fine!" Jill said raising her hands in defense, "That bastard didn't bite me!"

The hired gun nodded and backed himself towards the room's other desk, where he found a suitcase resting on its swivel chair filled with the owner's personal effects, suggesting the man had attempted to flee in a hurry. He then looked towards the white-shirted zombie lying near the doorway, wondering if he had been the owner.

Resting on the desk were two more boxes of 9mm bullets, again probably belonging to the suitcase's owner. Scooping up one box for himself, Jake saved the other for Jill.

"Here, I found more of these," he said offering the box to the ex-cop, who had been leafing through a tan-colored notebook. A manila envelope lie on the ground next to her with its contents spilled out, photos of gruesome crime scenes from the recent murders. Taking her attention away from the macabre sights, she smiled and gave him a simple "Thank you."

"Think we've found everything there is for us here?" the hitman asked looking around the cramped office

"I sure hope so," the former S.T.A.R.S. member replied when she started ruffling through more papers covering a nearby desk for any more possible evidence, only to overturn another small stack of folders and find a dark green gem underneath.

"Wait a minute that belongs to the clock outside city hall," Jill said scooping it up and examining it with a careful eye, "Wonder how it got here?"

"Something we'll have to worry about later," Jake replied, swearing he could hear more moans in the distance.

With a collective nod, both survivors made their way down to the streets, only to find the threat was much greater than expected.

"Where did all these bastards come from?" the hired gun cried in astonishment, seeing an entire army of zombies gathered on the street outside the newspaper office, all of them springing to life upon spotting the two living humans.

"Fuck, I doubt we have enough ammo for all these freaks," Jill said holstering her Beretta and drawing her grenade launcher.

"Guess we're just gonna have to cut a path through them," Jake said looking towards nearby City Hall before cocking his guns.

An ear-splitting whistle filled the air, one that Jake recognized all too well.

A rocket struck the pavement before them, creating an explosion that obliterated most of the zombies and sent the two survivors flying backwards against the Raccoon Press building.

"Damn it…" the hitman grunted, feeling the wind knocked out of him and his ears ringing from another massive explosion, _"How much of this shit do I have to take before I get outta here?"_

"S.T.A.R.S."

The familiar booming voice snapped him out of this thoughts and he looked over to Jill, who sat quiet in shock, her facial features frozen.

"No…" she managed to choke out.

"How many times do we have to knock this fucker down before we kill him?" Jake hissed as he scrambled for his guns.

Like a demon emerging from the fires of Hell itself, the one-eyed behemoth stepped through the fire with a Stinger rocket launcher hoisted onto its shoulder, much like it had been carrying when he first encountered the monster four nights ago.

Taking an earth-shaking step forth, the giant swatted aside two zombies with its empty left hand and then used its rocket launcher to obliterate the skull of another, who had been ignorant of its presence and was instead focused on the fresh humans slumped against the building.

"S.T.A.R.S.," the demon repeated, grabbing another infected townsperson that had been stupid enough to cross its path and tossing them head on into a brick wall, snapping its neck upon impact.

With a grunt, the giant raised its rocket launcher and took aim at the battered survivors.

"No you don't," Jake whispered, raising both guns and firing a barrage into the monster's face, acting out of desperation to slow it down.

The black-clad brute shrugged off most of the rounds to its chest, but had taken a few bullets that had thrown off its aim, as well as a few more that threatened to knock the Stinger from its hand. Only when the mysterious human attacking it had run out of ammo could it regain its focus.

"Shit!" Jake grunted as both guns clicked empty, knowing he didn't have time to reload and would be dead in a few seconds if he didn't think fast.

"Get ready to run," he heard Jill whisper next to him.

Looking over, he watched as the ex-cop raised her grenade launcher and fired an explosive canister into the brute's chest, just beneath its chin, creating a small explosion that managed to knock it back a few steps.

"Now!" she shouted, rising to her feet and tackling a zombie that had gotten too close for comfort.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jake tackled another zombie that had gotten close and then jump kicked a woman to the ground. He followed close behind as Jill dodged and pushed her way past several more infected townspeople that had been reaching for her, speeding towards the front gates of City Hall.

The brute took notice of her planned escape and broke into a sprint after her, plowing its way through several more zombies like a bulldozer, dead set on eliminating its last known target.

Jake had already dropped a lanky man in a bloodied brown outfit with a powerful uppercut and was about to finish him off when he saw the giant catch up to its prey and grab her by the back of her top, flinging her down to the pavement like she was nothing. The mutant then brought its foot up and prepared to stomp Jill's head in, the ex-cop rolling to the side just as the wrecking ball-like foot came down and stomped a crater into the blacktop.

"Get away from her!" the hitman cried as he reached for his revolver and fired a round into the creature's neck.

With a roar of pain, the black-clad brute turned around and raised its rocket launcher, only to take another high caliber round to the face, spraying hideous purple blood from the opened wound.

Jake had succeeded in stunning the monster, buying enough time for Jill to climb back to her feet and stagger towards the gated entrance, reaching for the green gem and slipping it into its rightful place on the clock. With an electronic chime, the gates parted and they were free to advance.

"Jake, c'mon!" the woman called out, waving him towards the now opened doors, but the brute had recovered and set its sights on the mysterious man.

Hoisting its Stinger upward, the stalker squeezed the trigger and fired another rocket.

Jake saw the rocket zooming towards him and dove out of the way, the projectile instead striking a small group of zombies that had been gaining ground on him, sending the muscular man tumbling to the ground and covering him from head to toe in blood and entrails.

He didn't have time to cry out in disgust as the monster again raised its Stinger to take aim, shrugging off the napalm round fired into its back by Jill.

"Fucking hell," Jake grunted as he bolted for any place that would offer him adequate cover, hearing the squeeze of the trigger loud and clear, followed by the hiss of the rocket leaving its barrel.

"Oh god Jake!" Jill cried as she watched the rocket soar in his direction.

Pumping his feet as fast as he could move, Jake saw the fire engine before him and a narrow gap at the very end. With no other options he raced for the opening and leapt over the truck's rear bumper, just as the rocket struck from behind.

A deafening boom followed and the hired gun found himself launched forward, as the fire engine exploded and its burning shell was propelled into the air above a mushroom cloud of searing heat, landing hard on the ground as jagged debris beat the pavement around him.

Again, the assassin forced himself back to his feet, shrugging off the pain wracking his body as he felt more concern for the ex-cop who had been helping him out.

He brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the bright light of the inferno before him and gagged fiercely as the smoke from the burning heap assaulted him, but there was no seeing around the charred husk blocking his path.

"Jill!" he called out, "Jill! Jill are you alright?" he shouted.

A few small explosions sounded from the other end, followed by the monster's frustrated roars.

"Save yourself!" the woman called out and then nothing else was heard.

"Damn it!" he grunted, clutching his sore side. Once again he was left alone and already low on ammo, aching from head to toe, tired and hungry.

Hearing more moans behind him, Jake turned to see more infected townspeople staggering from the back alleys and from any buildings that had their front doors ripped off, not knowing whether he was attracting them with all the noise that had been made or if they were able to sniff him out. As always, there was no time to sit back and ponder, he had to move.

_"She'll be alright," _he assured himself, thinking of the woman, _"She was a S.T.A.R.S. member, they're not pushovers, that's for damn sure," _his mind added, remembering a news report he had heard where a six man squad had managed to take out an entire warehouse full of O'Bannon thugs "without breaking a sweat" as one of the members had put it in his post-mission interview.

_"But then again, they weren't fighting the living dead or some gigantic brute you can't even kill after dropping an entire building on," _he reminded himself as he dodged an overweight man in a bloodied purple polo shirt, the zombie tripping on another corpse and falling flat on its face.

Fighting against his own lungs and the nagging pain in his legs, Jake continued pushing himself forth, dodging his way around the endless stream of zombies approaching him from all angles.

The hired gun made his way around a corner, only to be met by a once beautiful woman leaping in front of him, baring a mouthful of jagged yellow teeth dripping with the blood of a fresh kill. With no time to waste, he raised his magnum and punched a hole through her face.

"Fuck…" he muttered to himself, hating the fact that he had just wasted a powerful magnum round on an ordinary zombie, preferring to save them for the more powerful adversaries he had encountered.

Making his way into a shadowy alcove, Jake allowed himself a long overdue breather and found the time needed to reload his empty Berettas. He could hear the zombies gaining ground from a distance.

"I've gotta fucking find some place…but where?" he asked himself, _"Normally I'd think of higher ground or somewhere underground, but I doubt either one of those would be a safe alternative…especially with the crows or those giant spiders…" _he thought, shuddering at the thought of the spiders he had encountered back at the library.

Taking a couple more deep breaths, Jake bolted across the street towards the first shop he saw, a fancy-looking ivory building called "The Distinguished Gentleman." Pulling the front door open, he was relieved to find it unlocked and then slammed it behind him, locking it.

"Finally…" the hitman gasped as he reclined against the front counter, bracing himself so he wouldn't collapse like his body wanted to. For once he found himself in an environment where there were no signs of bloodshed.

_"Guess nobody was in the mood for robbing an upscale clothing store, sounds awful funny with the ridiculous amounts of money they charge for these things, you'd think this would be one of the first spots they would hit," _he told himself as he looked around at the suits on display, left neat and devoid of any signs of dust, the smell of fresh garments being a welcome distraction. He still couldn't believe there was a shop that looked as if it had been untouched by the outbreak.

"Would be nice to have a change of clothes right now," Jake said aloud as he looked down to his own tattered, filthy clothing and then back to the brand new clothes, but knew it wouldn't be worth it as his new clothes would end up getting filthy in the end.

_"Besides, none of the sport coats around here would have enough pockets for carrying all of my extra ammo, and neither would the slacks. All of the nice loafers wouldn't be ideal for this kind of situation either with all the running I have to do, would be murder on my feet. Heh, I never liked suits to begin with, too uptight and too conservative for my liking anyway," _he thought with a sardonic chuckle.

Nothing of use appeared in the main room so he decided to check the back office, where again he didn't see anything that stood out right away.

"Gotta be something around here," he whispered, not wanting his trip to be in vain.

He approached the nearby cluttered desk and pushed the books, files and envelopes aside until he felt his fingers brush against the cool metal of a key. Picking it up, he found the number "1213" engraved into its surface and the note the key had been wrapped in. Picking it up he read it to himself:

_Duncan,_

_ If you find this letter, then it most likely means I am dead._

_ I hate to think like that, but with what I've been seeing going on around me, people being torn apart by those crazy sick-looking freaks and even animals being affected by whatever the hell's going on, I honestly don't know how much time I have left and I can't bear the thought of what could be happening to my friends and family as I write this._

_ Nevertheless, if I'm going to die, I want to go down having tried helping somebody before I pass on._

_ My uncle has an apartment on the top floor over at the Babel Tower apartment complex located on Euston Street, just two blocks north of here. It's a high security complex, meaning you'll need a four digit security code to get in through the front doors._

_ The code is '9946."_

_ I truly hope the Army will send somebody in to help us out, I doubt they'd just leave us to the mercy of those freaks. You should be able to hide out there until help arrives._

_ Anyway, please just do whatever you can to get Kay, Aaron, Lexie and the others to safety._

_ If I'm not there to greet you, then please just do whatever you can to survive. That is my last wish._

_ Your friend,_

_ Leif_

Jake folded up the letter and slid it into his pocket, doubtful this Duncan fellow or any of Leif's other friends would be around to read it. He also found a map on the desk where Babel Tower was circled in bright red ink.

"Just two blocks north of here," he whispered to himself as he pocketed the key, "better get moving then."

The hitman crept into the back alley, where in the distance to his left he could see a small group of zombies tearing into more than one corpse, the exact amount unknown to him. Careful to not alert their attention, he left the clothier's back door open and sidestepped his way down the alley to minimize the noise before reaching the street and out of their earshot.

Finding himself back on Warren Street, Jake was forced to walk at a slowed down pace due to his nagging injuries, fighting off impulses that had him wanting to run at full speed. So far things were quiet on this street, but if anything more threatening than a small pack of zombies appeared he knew he would be forced to run.

_"I'm surprised I haven't broken anything yet," _he thought to himself, remembering how that brute had tossed him around like a rag doll, inflicting injuries that would have incapacitated any ordinary man. _"Guess all that working out is paying off."_

He walked past a small auto dealership, where several once immaculate brand new cars had been smashed up, covered in blood and were riddled with bullets. On the hood of a snazzy red convertible was the body of another U.B.C.S. operative, capturing his attention.

Approaching the dead body, he noticed both of the man's eyes had been gouged out and most of the skin on the left side of his face had been torn away. A broken M4A1 lay on the ground beneath him surrounded by spent bullet casings and clutched in his left hand was an empty Sig Pro handgun. However, there were three live fragmentation grenades still strapped to his vest.

Smiling at his luck, Jake reached over to unhook the explosives from the dead man's vest and clipped them onto his harness.

Suspecting crows may have been behind the man's demise he looked towards the skies, but heard nothing to indicate their presence. He backed away from the corpse with his guns drawn; listening for any zombies, but still there was nothing.

_"I still don't like it around here," _he thought as he broke into a jog with his Berettas in hand, passing an outdoor restaurant where another mass of undead bodies had been piled atop one another, looking as if they had been mowed down by some kind of heavy artillery.

Looking over to his left he passed an overturned sedan, where the driver's side window had been smashed and its lone occupant lay face down on the pavement in a pool of blood, causing more concern for the hitman.

_"Damn, around here when you kill somebody you never know if they'll stay dead forever," _Jake told himself as he stared at more bodies lying around him, his trigger fingers itching in their presence, never knowing if they will rise up to attack him or not.

He had killed plenty of people in the past, but back in those days he knew they would never come back to haunt him. _"At least not their physical bodies," _he was reminded. _"Their spirits haven't come back either…at least not to my knowledge."_

There were often times where he had to wonder if somebody's vengeful ghost would ever come back to target him for snuffing out their life. Aside from his assigned targets, there were also those whom he had killed while engaged in full-scale gang battles, employees that had stumbled across his dirty work and needed to be dealt with before they could alert anybody else nearby or even innocent civilians who had wandered into the crossfire.

_"I haven't heard anything go bump in the night around my apartment, nor have I seen any shadows or transparent apparitions following me around, and I haven't felt any weird sensations around my body like somebody trying to strike me…so I guess I'm not that far along yet," _Jake thought with morbid humor, _"Wonder how many people I'm gonna have to kill before I end up locked away in a padded cell with a straightjacket rambling on and on about a bunch of dead people trying to kill me."_

More so, he thought about all of the zombies he had killed.

He had to ask himself if their ghosts would come back to haunt him or if the people they once were would understand that he did what needed to be done. In a sense it wasn't just for his survival, but also to liberate them from the soulless shells their bodies had become.

Putting himself in the shoes of an infected denizen, he would rather someone come along and end his suffering for him rather than being left to shamble about on the physical plane condemned to an eternal hunger.

Feeling his sore muscles flare up again, Jake was forced to slow his pace to a regular walk and continued down the center of the street, where he darted his head back and forth for the unknown threats he always expected to encounter.

_"Man I fucking hate this feeling," _he told himself as he walked past a darkened alley and raised the gun in his right hand expecting to receive a visit from another swarm of undead.

_"I have encountered worse," _he had to be reminded, knowing zombies were too stupid to just sit there and hide in the shadows with a high-powered sniper rifle in hand, _"Get a grip man, this whole ordeal is making you fucking paranoid."_

Paranoid, it was a word he hated being associated with him of all people.

Jake Cavanaugh prided himself on being a badass hitman who was known and feared by rival criminal syndicates, a man who was always trusted by his employers to get the job done, the tough guy who was targeted by lesser scumbags who wanted to make a name for themselves at his expense while he was incarcerated, the guy who had gained semi-legendary status amongst fellow inmates for having survived a skirmish with an entire death squad sent by a Colombian cartel and then lived to escape the S.W.A.T. team that followed!

He was the guy nobody messed with, or else they paid dearly for their indiscretion. When he was called to deal with somebody, that unfortunate sap knew their days were numbered. Aside from that traitorous bastard Viper, nobody was stupid enough to try backstabbing him.

The Red Dragon was known and struck terror into the hearts of men who were feared by the general public.

Now here he was growing paranoid of threats that probably weren't even there to begin with.

Was this supposed to be some kind of sick test for him? Was this meant to be a reminder that he was more human than he had given himself credit for?

Perhaps he had grown too overconfident for his own good and it had taken such a terrible ordeal for him to realize such foolishness he could have been capable of.

_"Now is not the time to be a big hardcore badass Jake. Now is the time to be a survivor," _he reminded himself as he came to a four way intersection, but found no signs to indicate the name of the street he had happened across after it had been knocked down by an overturned utility truck that had come to a halt against a white tow truck, sandwiching the driver in a gory spectacle of crimson splatter.

It was the first intersection he reminded himself, so he had to be about a block away from Euston Street and the fortress of solitude that was Babel Tower.

A loud crash came from his left and Jake whirled around with his gun drawn to find a bearded man in a bloodied teal button up shirt stumbling from the back of a mangled squad car with his wrists bound behind him by handcuffs, not letting that stop him from pursuing the fresh human left before him.

Watching his lone threat stumble towards him, the hired gun withdrew his bloodied sword and thrust the blade forward into the former human's chest. The zombie neither registered the pain a normal human would have felt nor the blood cascading from its chest and instead focused on clawing away at the fresh meal before it.

With another grunt of exertion, Jake kicked the zombie backward to release the blade from its chest and then spun his body, taking a swipe that hacked the walking cadaver's head clean from its shoulders.

_"Should've gone for the throat right away," _he thought, scolding himself for the combative error, _"At least I still killed the son of a bitch."_

Flicking the congealed blood away from his blade Jake was about to holster the blade when he heard more moans wafting towards his location.

"Great," he muttered in sarcasm as he noticed more shadowy figures descending upon him from the eastern direction. Wherever there was one it could be safely assumed there was always an entire army behind it.

The hitman tried his best to ignore the stings of pain in his legs from his abrupt movement against the lone zombie and began running down the street.

Whatever he had done caused a sudden chain reaction as more zombified citizens stumbled into view from all angles; one of them actually falling from above as an obese man in a plaid shirt came crashing through a window to get at the living human.

Jake did whatever he could to avoid engaging the monsters and wasting his remaining ammo, dodging around those that had taken swipes at him, sidestepping those who had dove for him, leaping over those already on the ground, feeling as if he were a football player with the ball in hand making his way towards the end zone.

"Damn it," he grunted as he felt a chunk of fabric being torn away from his trench coat by a spectacled man in a blue windbreaker, using his weight to pull the zombie forward and send it falling face first to the tarmac, stomping hard on the back of its neck before continuing forth.

_"Another close call," _he told himself, looking down to his now exposed right forearm, relieved to find no scratch marks on his skin. _"Getting sloppy Jake," _a voice called out to him.

Ignoring the voice, Jake continued moving forward until a bone-jarring shriek sounded from above at the most inopportune of times.

"Fuck no," he blurted out as he looked up to see another one of those Hunters perched atop a children's clothing store, smiling towards him with its razor sharp teeth, a look of sheer sadism in its reptilian eyes. A couple thuds resounded and two more beasts appeared, their claws glimmering in anticipation.

With a collective ear-splitting shriek, the three beasts leapt airborne like frogs on steroids with their claws raised above their heads.

"Desperate times…" Jake said just as he reached for his magnum before ducking an attempted swipe, "…call for desperate measures," he uttered just as he raised the gun and fired a blast into the face of the Hunter that had landed closest to him.

The two other beasts must have been able to comprehend the loss of one of their own, shrieking in rage and coming at the hitman from opposing angles, forcing him to duck another swipe directed at his throat and then another which sliced a portion from the lower tails of his trench coat.

Attempting to raise his magnum, Jake was cut off by a backhanded shot that sent the powerful revolver flying from his grasp and before he could reach for anything else, he saw another set of scythe-like claws coming towards him and leapt backward.

The tearing of fabric sounded again and he fell to the ground, but felt no pain in his chest at all.

Looking down he saw three large claw marks that had obliterated his once beautiful shirt and torn open the Kevlar vest beneath, some of its stuff spilling down his chest.

Before he could utter another curse word, Jake saw one of the hellacious beasts looking to drive its claws straight into his face and he rolled off to the side in time to dodge the death blow.

Scrambling for one of his guns as he rolled away, the hitman raised it and fired a volley into the scaly creature's side, slowing it down but not killing it. Only when he returned to his feet did he manage to line up his sights on the monster's face and fire three rounds into its left eye socket.

Two were down, but there was one left to go and the Hunter was hell bent on avenging its fallen 'brothers.' With another loud shriek that threatened to burst Jake's eardrums open, it drew its arm back and attempted a high angle swipe.

Knowing his battered body would hate him for it but left with no other choice, he rolled underneath the swipe and leapt anxiously towards his beloved magnum, landing just inches away from it and crawled on his belly towards it, smiling when he felt its cool steel against his fingertips. Hearing the mutant's talons clicking on the concrete behind him, he instinctively rolled to the side and managed to dodge another swipe that would have likely ripped his back open and severed his spinal column had it connected.

The beast relentless in its pursuit, Jake rolled again just in time to avoid another claw swipe, which almost sounded like a spade as they struck the ground, and finally managed to roll onto his back before raising his gun and firing a round into the monster's shoulder.

Screaming in agony, the Hunter's arm was nearly severed by the powerful round and it tried to make another lunge for its human adversary, only to be halted by another high-caliber bullet that would destroy its right kneecap.

"Looks like your hunt is about to come to an end," Jake smirked as the crippled monster tried to attack, but was hampered by its injuries and fell to the ground as its leg gave out beneath it, splintering open in a sick display of oily blood, mangled scaly flesh and innards no normal animal would possess.

The emerging pack of zombies were converging upon the wounded Hunter, moving with the same ferocity as they would with a human being lying there before them. The mutated reptile though remained ignorant of the danger it was in and continued to focus on the black-clad human before it.

Jake stood and watched in amazement as the living dead surrounded the mutant and attempted to make a meal out of the crippled beast. Now able to sense the trouble it was in, the Hunter began to fight back and thrashed its good arm about wildly, slicing its way through the oncoming denizens and managing to either decapitate or dismember a whole bunch of them before their numbers finally proved to be too much.

With a final scream of anguish, the monster was swallowed up whole by the swarm of living dead, forever unyielding in their mission to satiate an endless hunger, not caring whether you were human or mutant.

"Rest in pieces," Jake whispered as he slid the magnum back into his holster and pivoted on his heel wanting to get out of there before the zombies could return their attention to him.

The assassin continued moving northbound until a tan-colored building came into view, one that almost looked gold thanks to the spotlights shining upon it, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the other taller buildings.

_"That's gotta be the place," _he told himself and ran along a concrete fence until he reached a gate that had been plowed through by a delivery truck.

Hundreds of zombies he assumed had to be wandering around the building's vast parking lot. Fortunately, they appeared to be distracted by other things, as evidenced by the disjointed combination of ripping and masticating.

His bluish-gray eyes focused on the building itself and towards its front entrance, where he noticed a group of zombies had congregated around and were trying to smash their way inside, but the windows looked to be reinforced and held them back.

_"I hope they are if this is where I'm going to be spending the night," _Jake told himself as he stared at the front doors, knowing he would have to find another way inside.

_"Let's see, I don't have the ammo to shoot my way inside," _he thought looking down to his guns, _"Trying to cut my way through those bastards would be fucking suicide," _he reminded himself as he thought of his blood drenched katana, _"and if I try blowing them up I might risk taking out the reinforced glass and open the floodgates for those rotting bastards. C'mon, think Jake, think damn it."_

He noticed a nearby scaffold that rose all the way up to the fourth floor and the window it was positioned beneath, not knowing whether it was locked and he would have to smash it open or what. It was unknown if any of those crows were nearby and he didn't want to risk attracting their attention either, or create an easy opening for them to get at whoever else might be inside.

A manhole was close by too, but he had no means of opening it and also didn't know what else would be lurking down there. Plus, the lack of lighting would make him a sitting duck if any of those things could see in the dark.

_"What I wouldn't do for a helicopter right now," _he thought as he stared up towards the building's rooftop, thinking that would be the safest point of entry under these circumstances. _"Gotta make a decision fast before these things find out I'm here."_

He watched as the zombies continued to pound away at the building's front doors and wondered if there were other people inside. To him it almost seemed like the ideal kind of place a group of human survivors would flock to after the fall of the R.P.D.

_"Any place that is built like a fortress, has plenty of room to move around in, has electronic locks and reinforced glass, probably a place I'd want to lay low in for a few hours if I had no other options," _he thought as he crept along a parked S.U.V. and peered around the corner to see some zombies feasting on a driver who had been yanked out of their sedan.

Planning on the go, Jake was inching himself towards the scaffolding at the right of the entrance, taking cover behind what had once been a sleek Badge Cobra, now a blood spattered mess thanks to the body slumped against its driver's side door and another that was sprawled out on its front hood with its dried entrails hanging from its legless torso.

An amplified stench made the hitman want to gag as he inched closer towards the front entrance and took cover behind a van that was almost untouched aside from the bloody palm print left on its passenger door.

_"Guess that's supposed to be a good thing," _he thought with a crinkle of his nose, thinking it to be a tiny miracle he hadn't become desensitized to the smell of death, _"That's gotta be the umpteenth time I've realized this…hope it doesn't change anytime soon."_

Jake continued his forward march, forcing himself to move further to the right as he happened across a muscle car where a zombie was reaching inside, the wet sloshing noises telling him what was going on. He soon reached the end of the rows and was taking cover behind a jeep, watching the mob gathered around the front door.

He still had to wonder what was drawing them towards the doors and couldn't make out any figures beyond the mass of decaying flesh, also thanks to the bloody smears they left behind as they pounded away.

Having gotten as close as he could, the assassin decided he would take the scaffold route and ran over to a ladder that had been anchored to the side of the wooden and metal structure, taking one last look before he began climbing the rungs.

_"Man, I'm so getting a good nap in once I'm safe and secure, a big freaking meal too and probably a change of clothes," _he thought as he looked down to the tattered remnants of his current outfit.

Reaching the top of the scaffold he found himself looking into an apartment under construction and tried the window, finding to his luck that it had been left open and he slid inside, locking it behind him.

"Gotta make sure this place is 'cleaned out' first," he whispered and readied his Berettas.

Author's Note: And so another installment comes to an end of our favorite antihero's adventure in a nightmare!

Again for anybody who followed RE3 closely, I was forced to make a few "modifications" for the sake of furthering the story with an O.C. involved and did what I could so that it would seem natural with the way he's forced to distance himself from Jill.

I remember how in the original D.A. I had it where Jake and Jill just split up voluntarily and that was it, which doesn't seem to logical by this point, given the tension and constant danger I would assume that he would want all the help he could get for his survival, meaning he would want to have somebody nearby who could watch his back.

At the same time though, this is supposed to be a story about Jake and therefore I wouldn't want Jill to stick around for far too long, so I needed what would seem like a better excuse for him to distance himself from our favorite S.T.A.R.S. leading lady (not trying to piss off any Rebecca fan boys or anything) without him having to blatantly run off and look like an ass in the process.

In that case, I needed everybody's favorite one-eyed, rocket launcher-wielding, Brad-murdering, endlessly stalking behemoth to make a "special guest appearance" with his ever so trusty rocket launcher so that he would cause some kind of violent act that would force Jake to HAVE to "naturally" distance himself from Jill.

Well alright that's it on my end so until then, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	29. Ch 28: Diary of a Renegade

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 28: Diary of a Renegade

To the relief of Jake Cavanaugh, the eight stories he had traversed inside Babel Tower contained very little in the way of any dangers.

A majority of the zombies he encountered were alone, enabling him to withdraw his katana and drop them with quick decapitations. For the small groups, he was forced to withdraw his Berettas and by now, had almost depleted all of his ammo for the side arms.

Moans were still heard coming from below, but they would be the least of his worries for now as he was in desperate need of repose.

To his luck, the top floor was devoid of any threats and he wasted no time making his way for Apartment 1213.

It had been a little over two hours since Jake had arrived and despite the constant feeling of exhaustion he had coming in, he had found himself unable to fall asleep, much to his surprise.

Instead he sat in a comfy recliner clad in nothing but his tattered cargo pants after having taken a shower that lasted for well over an hour.

At first he was leery of the thought as he wondered if the T-Virus had been leaked into the city's water supply, but the desire to be clean had been overpowering for him.

Up until then, he had never fully realized how much a hot shower had been a simple luxury that wasn't to be taken for granted and wished he could have stayed in there until the madness passed by.

It also made him feel vulnerable too as he fought against the urge to fall asleep right then and there, wondering if any of those monsters would be able to get past the barricade he had erected. The warm water also made him realize how much pain he truly was in and he found himself struggling to stand as the water washed over his inflamed joints.

He also realized how filthy he was as he looked down to the bathtub's once pristine surface, finding every inch of it covered in a mixture of dirt, blood, oil and other miscellaneous substances. One hour didn't seem like enough for him to cleanse his battered form, but he had to get out knowing he was putting himself at risk by staying there.

And now here he sat, staring towards a front door that was now obscured by two large couches, an armchair and a bookcase, all of the latter's contents spilled onto the living room carpet.

_"I doubt the owner's in much of a position to care anymore," _Jake thought with a smirk as he looked down to the emptied milk carton, soda cans, candy wrappers and plastic Tupperware containers that had once held some leftover spaghetti and a salad.

He had once again allowed himself to pig out on anything he could find, something that wasn't normal for the hitman. After all the running for his life it had felt good to sit down and enjoy a meal without haste, but had questioned himself as to whether or not that much food would hold him over for the time being.

_"Shit, I hope me thinking that much about food doesn't mean I'm going to end up like those freaks outside," _he told himself as he listened to the hollow moans outside.

Willing himself to stand, Jake looked out the nearby window where he was granted a spectacular view the place had to offer, spanning almost all of Raccoon City, albeit obscured by the endless pillars of smoke surrounding the grand edifice.

Disaster was all around him.

Everywhere he looked there were nothing but car wrecks, buildings ablaze and zombies clogging the streets at every angle.

The feral shriek of a Hunter pierced the air from a distance, causing the hitman to look down to the powerful revolver laying at the foot of the recliner, from there his eyes made their way over to his bloodied sneakers and the grimy socks lying on top of them before reaching his Kevlar vest.

In addition to the bullet holes left by his mystery assailant at the slaughterhouse, the lifesaving armor was further mangled by the diagonal claw marks left behind by that one scaly freak. The metal plating beneath was exposed and Jake bristled at the sight of claw indentations, degrading it to paper thin brittleness that would fail to protect him upon taking another blow.

_"Fucking freaks, don't know where else I'd be able to find a bulletproof vest, only place I could think of would be the police station…and I'm not going back there after what happened…" _the hired gun told himself as he looked over to the small trashcan near the refrigerator, where the tattered remnants of his favorite shirt hung over the side, far beyond repair. He then looked down to his bare chest, picturing the gashes that would have been there had he not been quicker, unless he was dismembered.

It was a sobering train of thought for the young man, broken by rattles of gunfire and another explosion that sent him flying over to the window clambering for his beloved revolver. Hiding along the wall, Jake took a deep breath and peeked out the window.

Expecting to find the bazooka-toting giant, instead he found the smoldering remnants of a rooftop generator on a tenement across the street.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jake watched as several blazing figures stumbled about before falling over the ledge, unable to tell if they were zombies or other survivors who hadn't been fortunate enough to escape the blast radius.

The hired gun exhaled as some of the smoke began to part and he was offered an unobstructed view of the city's uptown district, where he spotted a building he had heard much about that looked to be untouched by the ravages of the virus.

In all its glory stood the St. Michael's Clock Tower, looking just as eloquent as it had on the postcard he saw back in J's Bar. He had to wonder if any of those U.B.C.S. guys had made it there or not, them or any surviving civilians, noting the fortress-like structure it possessed similar to that of Babel Tower.

Behind the brick structure was a pure white building with red emergency lights surrounding a helipad, which he assumed had to be the city's hospital and to the western direction stood the tallest building in all of Raccoon City, a massive structure of glass and steel with a familiar red and white logo that called out to him, mocking him.

"Umbrella…" he rasped while staring at the main headquarters of Umbrella, Inc., making his blood boil at how they could be so out in the open and not attract any suspicion. The physical sight of the insidious organization made him think again about William Birkin, who was likely holed up in his office somewhere at the chemical plant his daughter had mentioned. It was wishful thinking at the most on his behalf.

Sighing aloud Jake looked over to the coffee table in front of the living room TV set, where Sebastian Ramsey's diary lay.

He remembered what the young researcher had told him about its pages containing insights into the 'actual' goings on of the Umbrella Corporation. With some free time left on his hands he figured now would probably be a good time to sit down and read it.

Opening the leather bound book he studied the pages and flipped through the earliest entries, which began in January 1997. The articulate, well-crafted penmanship of Dr. Ramsey's youthful genius showed as he carefully browsed through each entry, most of which discussed bothersome habits of his co-workers, times out on the town with friends, and even a scathing critique of an ex-girlfriend, nothing of sheer importance to the inner workings of Umbrella.

"Come on, you've gotta have something in here about what a lovely bloodbath this city has become," Jake chuckled as he skimmed the pages, feeling like he was reading through the diary of a typical angst-ridden teenager, until he happened across something from February of last year.

"Well what do we have here?" he asked as he mentally read the first words of the entry to himself.

_February 17, 1997_

_ Something major happened today and I don't know whether or not I should look at it as a promotion or a demotion._

_ The second I arrived at work I was told to report to Dr. Weatherby's office. I had no clue what to expect and walked in with this huge lump in my stomach. Let's just say when somebody walks into his office, they usually exit without a job. I could only pray to God I wasn't in trouble._

_ When I go there I found my buddy Sully and a bunch of other researchers there who had been sent in from different branches all around the Midwest, some of the locals I recognized from Bacteriological Research and a few from Pharmaceutical Development. At the front I saw William and Annette Birkin along with a few others. Whatever brought them here had to be big._

"Birkin…" Jake whispered as he clamped onto the book in a near death grip, eagerly continuing through the entry.

_Getting down to business, Weatherby informed us that Dr. Birkin would be starting an entirely new project and that owing to its nature it would be necessary to transfer several staff members to our viral research department. Most of us would be working as laboratory assistants to the existing members of the project's research team._

_ Damn, I don't know if this is supposed to be me being knocked down the chain of command or not? Not only do I have to be somebody's lapdog now, I also gotta put up with those cynical pricks Cicero and Chisholm, as well as that egotistical son of a bitch Northwall. You'd think such a position would be a blow to his ego, but the asshole seems to be taking it pretty well. I don't know whether I should feel honored or humiliated to be here._

_ All Birkin would say was that he had plans for 'something big,' but whatever it was he would not say. I've known William for a few years now and have already worked with him on other things and I'm surprised I made it through those last projects without being institutionalized. That guy is a nightmare to work for, not only is he arrogant, but he's also really overconfident and gets too damned impatient whenever you don't get something the first time and he has to re-explain everything to you._

_ This is going to be fucking fun!_

"Heh, maybe I'll be doing Sebastian a favor if I take this fucker out after all," Jake remarked as he continued paging further through the journal, where the researcher continued his rants about Dr. Birkin being difficult to work under and how he was ready to blown his own brains out, and how he feared for the safety of a co-worker named Lentz after the man left some chemicals he wasn't supposed to in the wrong storage room.

He continued forth until he happened across another entry that captured his attention and left him reading it over more than once, one mentioning the goings on at the Spencer Estate facility Brad and Jill had mentioned.

_May 27, 1998_

_ Man, I'm seriously worried about my colleagues that got shipped up to the Spencer Estate. Nobody has seen or heard anything from them since the beginning of the month, absolutely nothing, not even the tiniest peep!_

_ I've never been to the Spencer Estate, but I've heard rumors that that's where the company conducts some of its most top secret experimentation. I don't understand why they should be so secretive about developing a cure for all known cancers, which is what we're doing, is it not? I would love to hear something from them pretty soon, but by this point that's probably asking for too much. I have a buddy up there working as an animal keeper and I'm hoping to hear back from him soon so we can go down to Bar Jack for drinks sometime._

_ I'm hoping they didn't have another incident like they did last year when those bank robbers escaped from the Douglas Prison and tried breaking into the place thinking they could find all sorts of priceless valuables, only to be met by some of the guard dogs. I knew they kept those hounds there for dealing with 'undesirables' and always thought it seemed like overkill, but glad I was proven wrong that time._

_ The only other things I know about that place is that it was built back in the '60's by some brilliant architect named George Trevor and was going to be a home for him and his family, but then they all just mysteriously disappeared. Shortly thereafter, Ozwell E. Spencer, one of our company's original founders, purchased the place and it has been under his name ever since. That was around thirty years ago so I don't know if the guy is still alive or not. I've only seen exterior shots of the place from pictures in Dr. Track's office and man does it look beautiful. If by some unseen chance I were to win the lottery I would so buy that place._

_ May 28, 1998_

_ The Spencer Estate has practically been the talk of the office today, I swear not a single minute passed where I didn't overhear Norton and Rohmer ignoring their work in the cubicle next to me and chit-chatting about what happened. It was almost enough to drive me up the wall._

_ Yesterday, the mutilated remains of a twenty year old woman were fished out of the Marble River, which coincidentally runs its course not too far away from the estate. So far the police suspect the attack was executed by either a wolf or grizzly judging by the depth of teeth marks, but my co-workers as usual were quick to spread their rumors. Hell, I almost couldn't eat my lunch today I was so grossed out to my stomach as the gossip took a new turn and started getting just downright gruesome._

_ Calhoun, Spool and Oldrey were spreading all these disgusting rumors about our company conducting experiments on human beings, plants and animals…I was almost appalled to the point of going over there and overturning the table and telling them all to shut the fuck up. Christ I swear some people have no common decency!_

_ Apparently the rumors must have made their way to the front offices because after I got back from break the guards were moving up and down the aisles and the second anybody said anything including the words 'Spencer Estate,' they grabbed onto your shoulder and told you to keep it down or else you'd be sent to the director's office. I had no problem keeping my mouth shut, but some O'Donnell guy wouldn't and he was led away, showing they weren't bluffing._

_ How the bigwigs found out so quickly I honestly have no idea._

"Talk about company policy," Jake remarked moving onto the next entry.

_May 30, 1998_

_ Today must have been an important day because some of the top members of the executive board showed up._

_ I don't know what their business here was, but damn every time one of them walked by we couldn't make a peep and the looks they gave us were enough to kill, hell they would've all been on death row otherwise._

_ There was this one guy in particular who gave me the creeps, some blond-haired guy in a fancy black suit. What was weird about him was that he had on these shades he never took off, even when I encountered him in the restroom. I heard about the others bumping into him all over the facility, popping up from out of nowhere almost as if he were the Grim Reaper in human form._

_ I had to thank God they spent most of the day away from my division, or else I probably would've keeled over from a heart attack right then and there._

"So the Umbrella higher ups were recently in town? I'm surprised I wasn't sent after any of those clowns," Jake mused as he reached some entries dated from late July and then things really started picking up.

Reports of bizarre murders occurring in the woods, strange animal sightings, citizens demanding action, the R.P.D.'s chosen course of action, the disappearance of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team and the ever heightening paranoia amongst Sebastian and his co-workers all described in numerous entries that left the hired gun glued to the pages and mumbling sentences aloud to himself until he reached one climactic entry.

_July 26, 1998_

_ Words cannot describe what has just happened up at the Spencer Estate._

_ Yesterday, the R.P.D. sent in its elite S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team in search of their missing colleagues and any surviving hikers only to result in a catastrophe ending with the destruction of the mansion itself and the deaths of the entire scientific staff and two-thirds of the S.T.A.R.S._

_ The incident has been all over local headlines and is even starting to pick up on the national news outlets as well. It was the hot topic at the office and I knew it would be inescapable._

_ From what I've heard, only five members survived altogether and they recited numerous claims of bizarre monsters they supposedly encountered, ranging from mutated ape-like lizards to giant spiders to the living dead! I have no idea what is going on here and none of the higher-ups want to talk about it. I have friends who were stationed at that facility and I need to know what is going on here!_

_ Sully and Ash are trying to be there for me, but I won't have closure until I know what exactly happened in that building. Ugh, this is too damn gut wrenching for me!_

_ Until then I'm going to try and take this matter one day at a time. We're talking about going to Grill 13 after this is over and maybe for a few drinks at Bar Jack. Thanks to dumbass Ash, we can't go to J's Bar anymore after he sexually harassed that one popular waitress, Cindy I think her name was. Yep, it got pretty messy and it resulted in him nearly getting into a brawl with some antisocial plumber guy and some off-duty cop. Thankfully there was another cop and these two security guards there who stepped in and broke the thing up, saved me the money of having to bail his ass out._

_ July 27, 1998_

_ Once again I have no idea what is going on, but for some reason there were all these military-looking types walking around the office and labs today. I tried listening in on their conversations and I managed to pick up some tidbits about how they would 'probably have to plan a reconnaissance mission into the Arklay Mountains area to root out any remaining threats' and 'retrieve samples for the Viral Research Department.'_

_ Apparently they came after more reports of bizarre monster sightings and murders came in, including one resulting in the deaths of two police officers. The pressure has really been turning up on the company and maybe there's a part of me that's starting to believe maybe there was more going on at the Spencer Estate than what we were told. Just the presence of these military types has to speak volumes unto itself and if I say anything, I'll probably end up with a bullet in my head._

_ Much like it was when the company executives came to visit, there was this one guy in particular to give not just me, but everybody who came into contact with him the creeps._

_ He was a gigantic brute with silvery hair and a heavily damaged right eye and I swear his face must've been made of ice because he hardly moved a muscle while he was there and never said a word aloud, just looking us over like he was inspecting livestock about to be sold on the market._

_ God I need to get my mind off of this! I really need a walk and bad. It's been forever since I've been to Raccoon Park, maybe I should stop there and visit Grandma Gertie's grave while I'm at it, been awhile since I've done that._

The first entry listed in August was another to catch the hitman's attention and keep him anchored down minutes after he had finished reading it over, where he sensed the deceased researcher began to foreshadow his own demise.

_August 1, 1998_

_ Oh my god…it is three in the morning and I can't sleep a wink after what happened today. I have been transferred to a different division, one involving the very kind of experimentation they talked about supposedly occurring at the Spencer Estate, proving that those gossips weren't pulling shit out of their asses after all._

_ As soon as I arrived at work, I was met by Drs. Weatherby and Brea and then given a hazmat suit and told to suit up right away because 'I was being promoted.' Some promotion I was about to receive and I'm nearly wanting to jump out the window writing this, but I have to because it will do me no good to hold it in forever._

_ I was taken to this elevator leading to the sub-basement levels and shown to this area that reminded me of Fort Knox, but with enough security to make that place look like a cellar. What I saw beyond those doors will haunt me for the rest of my living days; something that looked like it was out of a science fiction movie gone terribly wrong._

_ There were all these large tubes with creatures that looked like they were straight out of those trashy comics Uncle Johnny passed down to me when he died: those ape-like amphibians mentioned by the S.T.A.R.S. survivors, these hideous creatures that looked like a human being, spider and monkey all spliced into one, skinless, sinewy creatures with their brains exposed and tongues about as long as their bodies, white apes with sores all over their hides, and a giant scorpion! You name it I probably saw it down there! But that wasn't the worst part that scared me._

_ Strapped to tables, locked in cells, being fed to those creatures were people! Living, breathing people taken off the streets to be experimented upon by my own employers! My own fucking employers!_

_ Christ, I watched as they brought in some kid who had to be barely into high school, strapped down to a gurney and being taken to another location because he 'knew too much after stumbling across one of our secret labs.' Damn it, I can still hear him screaming for his mother as I write this…_

_ Now I know those S.T.A.R.S. members weren't crazy, they were telling the truth all along. My company sure played its cards right in knowing that nobody would believe them because such beasts are believed to only exist in the deepest, darkest imaginations of film directors looking to score the next great horror classic, plus that nobody would believe them because this company employs so many people in my town._

_ I wanted to leave, but before I could they showed me another sight I will never forget._

_ Pointing to a table strapped down was one of my closest friends, or who had been my closest friend Sully, lying with a bullet in the side of his head. Apparently he had been brought down and threatened to tell the public and then tried to play hero, only to pay for his efforts. They told me that the same would happen to me if I tried telling anybody and that they wouldn't stop with me, but my entire family as well!_

_ What the hell kind of company am I working for that would do such things to its own employees?_

_ I went to school and studied virology because I wanted to help develop a cure for cancer after watching my beloved grandfather suffer from its ravages, not help contribute to the end of the human race._

_ What am I going to do?_

"Damn…" Jake muttered aloud, gravely disturbed by what he was reading, _"Now I know why the poor guy wanted me to leave him behind at the station. Umbrella wouldn't hesitate to shoot one of its own dead at the drop of a hat."_

The concept was nothing new to the hired gun as he too worked for similar employers with bloodthirsty reputations that Umbrella probably paled in comparison to, but then again Umbrella appeared to be a legitimate organization on the surface that kept so many people entranced with their products that nobody would suspect a thing.

_August 5, 1998_

_ I don't even know how I can sleep at night, let alone get out of bed in the morning. Every day I go into that chamber or horrors dreading what my company will do next and whose lives will be ruined all for the sake of their precious bio-weapons program. Right now I feel sick to be alive and want to put a bullet in my brain and end it all, but then there's that voice asking me what good will it do? Frankly there isn't much else I can do._

_ Umbrella is a worldwide company employing thousands of people all over the globe. To the public they are the world's leading manufacturer in pharmaceuticals and have branched out into all sorts of health and beauty products and tons of other stuff that would be too numerous for me to mention. They put on a pretty face donating to charities all over the planet and starting all kinds of programs to help the needy when in fact those 'needy people' are most likely to end up as their test subjects so they won't draw any unwanted attention upon themselves._

_ There isn't a day that goes by where I don't mentally kick myself for joining Umbrella. The money and benefits were too damn enticing for a young nobody like me working for a Nobel Prize, but now I wish I could just tell them to take those benefits and shove them where the sun don't shine. If I did that though, I'd probably end up ran over in the parking lot like that one Britton guy did yesterday. They had been watching that poor bastard for quite some time suspecting that he was about to go public with his findings and then they do that to him. I've been overhearing that this company has contacts over in Raccoon General too; who would knowingly lie to the man's family and say that he was 'accidentally' ran over._

_ My co-worker Frost seems to share my concern and I'm forever grateful or else I probably would've taken my own life by now. He's more scared of that Monica Stevens bitch he has to work under. I've seen her in action and she's the ice queen of all ice queens, I can't believe how she can be so unfazed by some of the stuff she helps create. All in the name of the almighty dollar this is for, biological warfare that could easily turn today's third world country into tomorrow's toxic wasteland._

_ I should've followed Mom's advice and become a photographer because she always loved the landscape pictures I took around Victory Lake and up around the mountains. Hell, right now I'd be happy being some homeless beggar on the street corner waiting for my next drink!_

_ August 15, 1998_

_ I am thankful to be alive after what happened today, I can't believe I'm actually saying that given whom I work for._

_ That bastard Birkin showed up today having to test out some new chemical he's been working on for the past few weeks and had a big test set up down in the B-4 testing facilities._

_ The whole deal started out 'innocently' enough on some homeless drifter they pulled in off the streets and then moved onto other human subjects, who all displayed symptoms of the so-called 'cannibal disease' in T-Virus carriers and soon broke through their cages and began attacking members of the team. One of them managed to get loose and destroy the panel of a cage holding several MA-121's or 'Hunters' as they have been dubbed by the staff, that had just arrived from the Paris facility, who then proceeded to wreak havoc and kill several more members of the research team and security force. It got bad enough they had to call in security to clean up the mess._

_ For the millionth time I curse myself for ever joining Umbrella and right now I'm so hoping karma comes back to bite those money grubbing fuckers in the ass._

"It certainly will my friend," Jake said aloud as he pictured William Birkin's broken body lying at his feet.

_August 17, 1998_

_ As I feared, the incidents within these walls are beginning to leak out into the public._

_ I read the newspaper yesterday morning and was shocked to find the headline read 'COUPLE EATEN ALIVE.' Apparently some dog walker found two horribly mutilated bodies in Raccoon Park hidden under some undergrowth; no doubt this has to be the doing of our experiments._

_ I wanted to jump out the window reading that headline, now innocents on the outside have perished because of this company's greed and foolishness. It's only a matter of time before more unknowing bystanders fall before these monstrosities unless something happens and I doubt that ever will._

_ The company higher-ups are closely monitoring this situation and on alert for possible future attacks with cleanup crews on standby. This is just what we need, cleanup crews to cover the tracks of those who deserve punishment._

_ I've overheard Birkin chatting with Drs. Barkalow and Aulander about Chief Irons being on the company payroll, yes the chief of our fucking police department who is supposed to serve and protect the citizens of this community is on our goddamned payroll! Now I know I can't go to my old friend Jean because I would just be putting him in danger too._

"So fat boy Irons is in on this bullshit too?" Jake spoke without surprise, "I knew there was something up with that guy from the beginning, I could smell it in his drawers from here to Hong Kong," he chuckled and continued on.

_August 20, 1998_

_ I saw that bastard Birkin at work again today, doing his usual inspection of how his precious new project is coming along, his 'life's work' as I've heard him call it. What he calls it yet I have no clue, except that it's supposed to make the Tyrant Virus look pitiful in comparison. _

_He almost acts as if he's on some kind of quest to achieve immortality and is willing to bend back the will of Mother Nature in order to do so. That arrogant prick is only asking for trouble in doing what he does, he's going to get us all killed. How he can knowingly experiment upon living people with a straight face I have no clue, but he is insane!_

_I've worked alongside the man's wife, Annette her name is. I swear that ice cold and emotionless bitch is almost as driven by her work as that asshole husband of hers is, maybe that's what she saw in him when they first met. That's a Birkin for you; work takes precedence over everything else in their lives._

_Probably the only person I feel any pity for in that family is their daughter Sherry. I have met her before, a sweet girl and all around seems like the perfect daughter for anybody to have, it's sad those two have their heads so far up their own asses they don't even realize what they're doing to that poor girl by neglecting her like that._

_Then again maybe it could be a good thing because she seems to have no idea what her parents really do and for that she is very fortunate._

_I wish I had no clue what I was doing and if I could go back in time I would've left long ago. It's quite terrifying to watch all the young men and women who work here becoming part of something evil without even realizing it and I wish I could tell them what was really going on, but it would mean my own death and probably theirs as well._

_August 23, 1998_

_I never thought I would say this, but for the first time since I've been assigned to this accursed division I think I might have finally found a breakthrough in all of this madness, a sympathetic face who can assist me in getting back at these fools for all the mayhem they have caused._

_Michaela Redmond confided in me that she may have some connections outside of the company who have been watching Umbrella for quite some time and might be able to help us out. She told me how she's frightened for both herself and her family, but knows she has to carry on working no matter what. She also tells me this contact of hers has been giving her secret equipment to use in taping discussions all over the labs wherever she can get it and then turns it over to her contact._

_It's gonna be nice to finally have some hard evidence against these unholy sanctimonious bastards that will hopefully put them away forever and allow them to never harm another innocent being ever again._

_For once I'm beginning to feel like I have a purpose for sticking around._

_August 26, 1998_

_Today Michaela came over and gave me a special ring provided by her contact. It isn't really a ring, but rather a secret micro spy camera hidden inside of one designed to look like a regular sapphire ring. She told me it would be necessary at gathering evidence for where I would be working today._

_I was assigned to the T-002 laboratory today, where researchers are working on building another 'Tyrant' similar to what they supposedly kept up at the Spencer Estate. I laid eyes on the thing and nearly fainted, it was hideous!_

_It stood about eight feet tall and was completely bald with a pale grayish colored skin and these soulless white eyes that could strike fear into even the bravest man's heart. A mountain of muscle it was with one massive hand capable of breaking down a brick wall in a matter of seconds and where its other hand should be, there was this gigantic claw that could cut through an entire platoon in one fell swoop. Most notably it had a regular human looking heart on the outside of its chest, showing that whatever this thing was it had once been an ordinary human._

_I could only imagine what would happen if this thing were to ever get out onto an actual battlefield or worse, a city full of innocent civilians like Raccoon…_

_Duchesne was next to me babbling on about how 'only one in ten thousand people exposed to the T-Virus would be able to transform into a Tyrant, while the rest would transform into weak, mindless zombies.' The moron was also rambling on and on about creating a super army out of these things, super soldiers who were impervious to bullets, explosives and even death itself. The thought made me sick to my stomach. One of these mockeries of human nature was enough, but ten more of these things? Enough to send shivers up and down my spine._

_I managed to get some good shots of the abomination and of the researchers involved in this project hoping that I would have enough evidence to forward to Michaela. It felt good and bad at the same time, horrible knowing that I had contributed to creating something so vile and disgusting that it could destroy all of humanity if leaked out into the open, but I will feel some relief in knowing that I have helped in bringing about its demise._

"_I was right, not everybody in Umbrella is as evil as I thought them to be,"_ Jake repeated to himself what he had thought all along, _"Just poor folks with their own lives and families trying to survive, if they're not threatened into staying, then they are there for the purpose of putting food on the tables. It's their employers who want to play god, not them."_

Flipping through a few more entries he learned more about Sebastian's anxiety before coming across the one concerning his first meeting with the mysterious contact of Michaela's.

_September 3, 1998_

_Today was finally the day we were going to meet Michaela's contact. We had to wonder if Umbrella closely monitors the behavior of its employees outside the workplace too, meaning we had to be on the lookout at all times. To anybody else, we would've looked like just another typical couple out on a date._

_Our destination was some hotel near the outskirts of the city and we ended up taking the subway there, which largely went by uneventfully aside from this annoying attendant with his hair dyed this really hideous shade of bright blond that kept rambling on about how his 'life was shit.' If the biggest problems I had were trying to figure out the most difficult crossword puzzles and wondering on whether or not I could score with a cute brunette, I'd happily trade places with him._

"Heh, good old Jim Chapman," Jake chuckled, knowing right away the description fit the young transit worker, who believed his luck rode entirely on some supposed 'lucky coin.' Reclining back in the chair he continued the entry.

"_At around midnight we finally reached our destination and walked in to meet some guy named 'Fortune.' It was just like a spy movie, the room we entered was nearly devoid of all light and Michaela ended up having to say some kind of weird code to which the man 'revealed' himself. Neither one of us ever got a look at his face as he stood in the shadows, cocking a pistol to tell us we had better not come any closer or else he wouldn't hesitate to shoot us. I can't really blame the man for being paranoid as I'm already that way on a daily basis._

_Michaela turned over some documents she had managed to collect from the office and labs and then I turned over the microfilm from the T-002 lab._

_All he told us was that he was part of some secret underground 'resistance' that knows of Umbrella's true nature and has been looking to take them down for quite some time. Unfortunately, they lack the manpower and resources to go at them head on, hence all the espionage._

_The man thanked us and right away I thought there would probably be other operatives who would come barging in and taking us hostage or worse, but I breathed a sigh of relief when he simply told us to continue gathering whatever evidence we could against Umbrella and as a token of appreciation, gave us each a Beretta M92F for in case we ever encountered a 'sticky situation.'_

_I've never pointed a gun at another person, let alone ever having fired one to begin with, so I honestly have no idea how I would fair in a 'sticky situation.'_

'_That was a good time' Michaela jokingly told me, but in a strange way I almost considered it a real date. I've been quite fond of that woman for sometime now and I'd definitely like to do more with her in the future, I just hope our next 'date' can be the usual dinner and a movie rather than 'meeting with the mysterious informant.'_

"_I wonder if this 'Fortune' character is still around?"_ Jake asked himself. Whoever this guy was, he probably wanted to get at Umbrella just as badly as he did.

_September 8, 1998_

_Ever since our meeting with Fortune, both Michaela and I have continued gathering evidence for him and his people. As I speak, the guy's contacts must be carrying out operations against top-ranking Umbrella staff members._

_On the very night of our meeting, Dr. Duchesne's house was destroyed in an explosion with the man and his family still inside. From what the police claimed, a faulty boiler caused the blast, but I have my doubts because the guy claimed to be such a self-styled handyman and everything in his house 'was always in fine working order.'_

_Two days later, police found the flaming wreck of Dr. Barkalow's car along I-96 and on the same night across town, some burglar broke into Dr. Aulander's house and shot the man dead in his sleep._

_Whatever is going on, these incidents have made the company higher-ups nervous and they are on a witch hunt for anybody who might know anything, suspecting corporate sabotage within the ranks. If they discover Michaela and I are in on it, both of our lives will be in serious jeopardy._

"_Could this 'Fortune' person be my mysterious benefactor?" _Jake now thought as he tried to analyze what must have been going through Dr. Ramsey's head.

He stopped everything he was doing to look over to the window and towards the nighttime sky, staring at the wafting pillars and the flashing orange glows below.

If one man would send him to murder a researcher, it left him to wonder if other agents had been dispatched to the city to murder other high-ranking scientists and researchers involved with Umbrella.

"_If this Fortune guy is going to employ such means to deal with those other guys Sebastian mentioned, then that could explain why I'm here. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if there were other hitmen running around," _he told himself as he returned his attention to the diary.

_September 14, 1998_

_Michaela called me in the middle of the night in a panicked frenzy. She thinks they might be on to her. She doesn't know how they could have found out about her subterfuge because she's been so careful, but now she's feeling like the shit has hit the fan and she's going to get the hell out of this town as fast as she can._

_She can't go to her parents in Springvale fearing that it would endanger them, but she is trying to get a hold of Fortune hoping that he and his people can provide her with shelter until this mess blows over._

_I offered to come along with her, but she told me to stay behind claiming it would create too much suspicion if two researchers were to vanish at once and she's right, but I hate to let her go like that. She's all alone with nobody to watch her back now, as am I._

_Damn it, I'm too worried to sleep now. I think I'm going to pay a visit to Grill 13 and have some early breakfast, hopefully that will calm me down a little._

_September 16, 1998_

_As I expected, Michaela has not been seen or heard from over the past two days and strangely, nobody appears to suspect anything, not even asshole Birkin._

_Speaking of the devil, that guy has become increasingly paranoid lately. He's starting to suspect that the head honchos at White Umbrella might be onto him now and he's becoming hostile towards everybody around him, his wife probably being the only person who can go near him without nearly getting their head bitten off._

_I too have been getting really paranoid and I take my gun almost everywhere with me now. I'm trying to stay as calm as I possibly can to not arouse any suspicion, but I have a feeling it will only be a matter of time before things start up again._

_September 19, 1998_

_There have been cases of the T-Virus reported in the city now and nobody knows what to do. I swear not a single day goes by where we haven't been hearing reports of dead bodies turning up all over the city or another new patient being admitted to Raccoon General displaying symptoms of the 'cannibal disease' as the press calls it. My mother called up yesterday pleading with me to get out of town before it's too late, but I can't just up and leave or else the company will send out some of its U.S.S. goons to track me down and kill me without hesitation and then cover up my death and make it look like an accident._

_Mom, Dad, Lucinda, Amos…oh God I don't know what I'd do with myself if something were to happen to any of them. I've already lost several friends to this madness, but my own family…I wouldn't be able to bear the thought of that._

_I already worry enough about Michaela and if she ever made it out alright. If she did make it out, she's probably too paranoid to call me fearing that the lines might be tapped._

_Please be safe Michaela._

_September 22, 1998_

_A fresh wave of paranoia has been washing over me and only continues rising with every passing minute. Everywhere I go I have my gun with me and I jump the second something comes out of the shadows, thinking it's a zombie, one of those U.S.S. goons or worse._

_Just tonight I received a phone call from Fortune, my first time hearing from him since that meeting back on the 3__rd__. He tells me to have my gun ready in the coming days because something big will be going down tonight and it might involve a high-ranking scientist._

_Could it be Birkin? For all I know he's spent the last 48 hours locked up in his private P-4 laboratory working feverishly on that damned virus of his. If not then it could be somebody else like Weatherby? Something is going on and a lot of people haven't been showing up for work lately, hell I'm surprised nothing has happened to me yet…Christ I shouldn't be tempting fate like this._

_I wonder if I should even bother going into work tomorrow, but for sure I'm going to the Kendo Gun Shop afterward and buying myself a shotgun, that way if any of those freaks decide to come knocking on my door, I'll have a surprise for them alright._

The next entry caused Jake's eyes to nearly leap from his skull. He traced a careful finger across the entire paragraph and read it to himself aloud to make sure he was not hallucinating.

_September 23, 1998_

_All hell is breaking loose._

_Last night, Dr. Birkin was assassinated by members of the U.S.S. sent by White Umbrella to retrieve his 'project.' In doing so, those idiots have caused a panic that released more of those MA-125R 'Hunter' units out into the open. It could only be a matter of time before those things make their way into the city. God I should have left with Michaela when I had the chance._

"Birkin is already dead?" Jake muttered aloud, dropping the journal. _"If Birkin is already dead then why the hell am I here?" _he asked himself as he began pacing back and forth, until it finally hit him.

"I've been sent on a fucking wild goose chase!" he roared and in a rage, overturned the coffee table and sent it flying over into the nearby entertainment center, rocking it hard enough to knock the TV out of place and send it crashing to the floor.

"Motherfucker…" he hissed, standing over his recent destruction and breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself down.

He still couldn't believe it. He had really been sent to Raccoon City for nothing. His target was dead and he was left in a literal necropolis with no guaranteed possibility of escape.

"_Why the fuck did I ever even bother accepting this mission?" _he asked himself, only to stop in mid step when he realized what he was doing.

Never before had he questioned why he was accepting a mission. In the past, he just thought he was doing it for his own survival. He needed money for all the basic amenities in life and there had also been times where he felt as if he were doing the world a favor by ridding it of some lowlife who was worse than him.

Again, the hitman found his attention drawn towards the window he had been sitting near and he looked down to the streets where a parade of zombies congested much of the available space. Throughout the mass of decaying denizens, he took notice of one figure that moved much quicker than the others, one whom the others lunged for with a purpose as it evaded their grasps with deft movements. When the flash of automatic fire came from the figure's hands he knew he was looking at another survivor, unable to make out any distinguishing physical characteristics other than a full head of bright red hair.

Jake watched in interest as the figure darted past his attackers and somehow cleared the pack, soon disappearing into a nearby alley.

The small sight restored hope for survival within the hitman.

"_Now I know somebody will be dying for sure when I make it out of this mess. Birkin is dead, now I have to worry about keeping myself alive so I can track down whoever sent me here and personally 'thank them' for my all expenses paid trip with a bullet to the skull…no, that would be too merciful for them," _he thought with a sinister smile until a calmer, more logical part of his psyche kicked in.

"_Then again, could this fellow who sent me have even known that Birkin was already dead? Would he have had the means to contact anybody here and find out?" _Jake asked himself, knowing by now the phone lines would likely be down and there probably would have been no cellular reception due to all the damage done.

Looking down to the floor he could see the diary entry wasn't finished. Picking it up he walked over to the recliner and sat down again, feeling calm enough to continue.

_Things have descended into pure madness and nearly everybody around me has turned into one of those 'things,' how they could have become exposed I have no idea. I'm seriously hoping it wasn't introduced through the air, or else I could be seriously fucked._

_As I write these words I am cooped up in Dr. Garland's office armed with only the Beretta that Fortune had provided for me and am feasting on a bunch of treats I managed to scrounge up from the nearby vending machines, as well as fighting off the oncoming chills. Spool figured if he could lower the temperatures to below freezing levels that it could possibly freeze those blasted Hunters, but he's only gone and created greater problems for anybody else who might be wandering around here._

_Not many of us are left, from what I've seen around twenty-something, and that was hours ago meaning half of them are probably dead by now. Just goes to show how careless those meatheads were._

_I know Weatherby is among the survivors I saw last, clutching a shotgun he had found for dear life. His last order was to terminate all test subjects and then dispose of their remains in the incinerator, but there are just too many of those damned things running around and not enough people (or ammo) to stop them. Him being another high-ranking project manager, I know he'll probably try to escape with all the data and take credit to earn himself a fatter paycheck._

_I've seen Carter and Linda running around too, overhearing both of them trying to do something about finding a supposed 'antidote' for the T-Virus, but are they too late? Has this virus spread too far for them to contain? Time will only tell, but how much time do they have left? Other than those three, I've seen Kirchner, Braddock, Malden, Vega, Hagen and Spreckles running around in various areas all fighting for their lives. I know it's probably asking for too much, but I hope they're alright._

_Damn, I'm able to hear some more of those freaks banging on the door as I write with shaky hands, those who used to be my co-workers. There has to be at least five of them out there, waiting to rip me apart and bite into me like I'm some midnight snack. I'm not even safe in here with temperatures dropping by the second, but I'm not about to fret._

_I managed to get my hands on a layout of the ventilation system and from what I've found; I might be able to crawl out through this vent and into a nearby sewer and might not have much time before I reach the surface. Beats the hell out of sitting around and waiting for those freaks to rip me apart, that or the U.S.S. spooks coming and turning me into Swiss Cheese on sight. I really have no other options._

_For those who are stuck here fighting for their lives, I can only wish them the best of luck. I feel terrible though knowing I won't be able to save them all, but somebody needs to get out of here and get in touch with somebody who can help._

_September 24, 1998_

_It took me much longer than I expected, but I managed to reach the surface. However, it is a bittersweet victory._

_To my horror, the virus has reached the streets and the carnage gets worse with every passing moment. Everywhere I looked, I saw nothing but people running from the viral carriers or fighting amongst themselves or with the police. Not only that, there are those taking advantage of the sudden anarchy, engaging in looting and vandalism when they should be running as far as possible from here._

_I tried getting on a bus and getting back to my apartment building, but there was an infected citizen on there and he was tearing into a passenger, a young woman. Not too far away, I saw some more of those freaks attacking more people outside a club and it was there I knew I wouldn't be safe back at the apartment. I would have to get over to the station, even if it meant I had to be near that corrupt bastard Irons._

_I ran around where I could, dodging rioters and zombies until I came across a police barricade, where I saw more of those carriers tearing through heavily-armed, highly-trained police officers like they were nothing! For once I had to ask myself if even the R.P.D. would be a safe place to go, but I wouldn't be able to question for long as one of their vans showed up and brought me to where I am now._

_After seeing what I saw down in the research facility I'm hating the thought of sitting in one spot for too long, but for now I really have no other choice._

"_This definitely knew more than he was letting on," _Jake told himself, affirming the suspicions he had all along, _"but in the end he was just as much a victim as those they experimented upon," _he mentally added as he turned another page.

_September 25, 1998_

_By now the T-Virus is becoming too widespread to contain and martial law has been declared. Nobody can get in and nobody can get out. We are now trapped in this infernal hellhole and left to fend for ourselves._

_The townspeople are frightened and becoming increasingly hostile towards the officers who have sworn to protect them, especially after some dipshit reporter named Ben was going around telling everybody that he knew a way out of here and the officers had to fight tooth and nail to prevent people from leaving and I couldn't blame them._

_They would only be walking straight into Umbrella-controlled territory and furthermore, straight to their doom._

_I have taken some solace in socializing with several of the survivors gathered as I've spent most of my time here in the station's library surrounded by them, but it is sad that we had to become acquainted under these circumstances. Come to think of it, I think I saw Birkin's daughter wandering around here somewhere._

_It's partially my fault these people are here because I worked for the corporation that caused this mess, but sitting around and crying about it will do me no good._

_September 26, 1998_

_Things are only going from bad to worse as more officers have fallen to the attacking hordes and even more have been wounded. They have most of the wounded in the cafeteria and evidence room right now, but none of these people can be saved. They should just be put out of their misery before they can transform and harm any more innocents._

_I would tell them you need to put a bullet in their rotting heads, decapitate them or incinerate them to put them down for good, but then again I doubt any of them would listen to me because 'zombies don't exist.'_

_Nobody knows what is causing this outbreak, but I do and I sure as hell wish I didn't. I'm sure Chief Irons might know something too since his fat ass was on Umbrella's payroll. I haven't seen him yet, but I've heard that he's been keeping himself locked up in his creepy little office. No doubt he's probably plotting to save his own bacon._

_So far I've spent most of my time keeping to myself, only engaging in small conversations every now and then just so I don't draw too much suspicion upon myself, but I can't say too much because doing so would put them all in even more danger than what they already are. I don't know if Irons is the only R.P.D. mole in Umbrella's pocket or not, and I sure as hell don't want to find out._

_As I write this I imagine there are probably company executives being airlifted out somewhere, just shows how deep loyalty runs in this company._

_If for some reason I did make it out of here I would probably just be carted away to some secluded location and have my brains blown out to silence me so I can't tell the public. They can afford to lose me because I'm just some lowly researcher who contributed little to their cause._

At last Jake had come to the final entry, dated from yesterday.

_September 27, 1998_

_Earlier today I could overhear the surviving R.P.D. higher-ups talking about devising escape plans for getting the civilians to safety, but quite frankly I don't know if there really is any surefire safe way for getting anybody out of here. By this point in time, the entire city has been overrun and most of the force has been wiped out, especially now that those ugly Re3's have made their presence felt and they failed to kill one of those with all of their combined firepower!_

_Out of the ideas I've heard, I know one involves wanting to airlift survivors over to the airport and seeing if they have any available aircrafts, or leading them through the sewers and seeing if they can get into some nearby town while bypassing the military checkpoints, or gathering up a select group of survivors and loading them into a van. Anything that involves transporting a large group of unarmed, untrained and undisciplined civilians is bound to spell disaster, especially when it involves them possibly stumbling across Umbrella's sewage disposal plant, where there are bound to be viral carriers lurking about._

_Fortunately, I doubt they will be able to reach the underground research facility because the only known entrance is behind this waterfall and they would need the Golden Eagle and Silver Wolf medallions to clear the falls and get inside. The sewage disposal plant manager, Jeff Salinger, holds the Golden Eagle and the Silver Wolf medal, I have no clue who holds that, let alone where it went to._

_I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I have to help these people any way I can, even if I have to die trying. It will ease my conscience knowing that I am trying to undo a great wrong and even if I die, I will have passed on trying to redeem myself for what has been done._

_I never have been a religious man, but I sincerely hope God can find it in his heart to forgive me knowing that I was unjustly forced into serving the Devil at the expense of my loved ones. I will have redemption one way or another, Sebastian Ramsey will not die a monster!_

_This may very well be my last entry and I want to get as much as I can off my chest before I go. Up until a few days ago I had always feared Death and its cold, unforgiving embrace, but from what I have seen I now realize there are worse things out there in this cruel world. I am no longer afraid to die and I will go down fighting for the sake of all the innocents who have perished in this great tragedy._

_Sebastian Clarke Ramsey_

With the last entry read Jake closed the diary and let it fall to the floor. It had been a mind-blowing look into the inner workings of the Umbrella Corporation and he had a feeling it wouldn't be his last.

At the same time a great anger had welled up inside of him knowing William Birkin had been dead all along and he had been risking his life over the past few days for nothing.

The only thing that mattered now was escaping Raccoon City alive.

CRASH!

The shatter of glass had just come from the bedroom and the hitman snapped to attention. Something was inside the apartment with him.

Scooping up his S&W Model 629, Jake bounded over to the small hallway leading to the bedroom and hugged his back to the wall, inching closer and closer. He listened for any additional noises, but could hear nothing and continued until he reached the door.

"_Here goes," _he thought before raising his foot and kicking the door open.

The hired gun entered the darkened room with his revolver drawn to find the room's only window had been opened and a glass vase had been knocked over from the desk beneath.

"How the hell?" he whispered and reached over for the nearby light switch, only for nothing to happen. A chill shot through his entire body and he raised the magnum on instinct, staying close to the entrance where light poured in from the living room, but not much. The moonlight provided little illumination and he listened intently for any noises.

A Licker or Hunter had to be in the room with him right now; no way would an ordinary human being have been able to reach him from outside when he was on the top floor.

"Alright, show yourself you ugly bastard!" Jake cried out, his patience at its end as he waited for the intruder to make its presence known. "Come on out, I haven't got all night. Only one of us is walking away from this!"

DONG!

The sound of a tolling bell shattered the young man's concentration and his gaze again darted towards the opened window. He wanted to run over and see where the clangor was coming from, which no doubt had to be from the St. Michael's Clock Tower, but didn't want to run over and risk exposing himself to whatever was now in the room with him.

DONG!

At the same time, the loud din was becoming too irresistible for him to ignore, especially when he could hear the familiar flutter of helicopter blades overhead that were getting closer to his location.

"Fuck it," Jake grunted, hugging along the nearest wall and inching himself over towards the window with his gun raised, careful not to step on any of the broken glass. He carefully moved himself along the desk and over to the opposite side of the window, where he was able to get an unobstructed view of St. Michael's Clock Tower.

An unmarked helicopter was circling the ancient structure looking for an area to touchdown, which must have belonged to the U.B.C.S. as he recalled their planned rendezvous point being the aforementioned structure.

"_Shit, I'd never make it in time. I'm too far away," _the hired gun reminded himself, knowing he had no other option aside from traveling on foot and knowing there were all sorts of dangers that would slow him down. _"Those flyboys aren't gonna hang around for very long in such a hazardous environment."_

Jake cursed bitterly and returned his attention to the room, where there were still no signs of another individual being present. It was a small setback, but he would still find another way out he reminded himself, remembering the philosophy his uncle had always instilled within him.

His head perked up as a sudden whoosh came from outside and he looked back towards the clock tower.

A bright object sped towards the descending chopper and struck it head on, exploding the metallic bird in a ball of flame.

"What the fuck?" Jake shouted as the burning wreckage plowed into the once beautiful structure and created a second explosion before it fell to the earth followed by tons of masonry.

Before he could think anything else, a gaggle of heavy, rapid paced footsteps cut through the darkness, the same ones he had heard before he picked up the manila envelope left behind when he first accepted this mission.

And they were coming from right behind him!

"Shit!"

Jake whirled around on his heel as fast as he could, but before he could utter a single word, a black gloved fist drove its way into his face and then everything went dark.

Author's Note: And so concludes another chapter where we learn that not everybody associated with Umbrella is a true blue scumbag.

The silver-haired man mentioned in that one diary entry is supposed to be Sergei Vladimir, the main antagonist of "The Umbrella Chronicles."

To throw some more beans out there, the scene towards the end where Jake witnesses the rescue chopper being shot down is partially inspired by an occurrence in Hyperactive Hamster of Doom's "Project Lucifer" fic where the survivors witness the rescue chopper being shot down.

In reference to a map of Raccoon City:

.com/Raccoon_City

Jake wouldn't be too far away from St. Michael's Clock Tower, meaning he would be within perfect range to hear the bell tolling and watching the chopper fly into view, only to be shot down seconds later, hey if the pilot can hear the bell tolling from the suburbs, then there's no reason our beloved hitman can't hear it when he's only a few blocks away!

Well I hope you all enjoyed and until then, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	30. Ch 29: The Rookie and the Lady

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: When we last left off, somebody had somehow managed to get the jump on our beloved antihero, but before any of you might scream "Harbinger, how could you kill off your prized creation?" Just keep on reading and drop a nice review at the end! Now on with the story!

Chapter 29: The Rookie and the Lady

**September 29, 1998**

Jake bolted up in a cold sweat panting heavily and looking around the small bedroom as he awakened from his sleep.

"What the fuck just happened here?" he gasped, stopping himself when he realized there was nobody there to answer him.

He soon realized he was still in the bedroom of the apartment he had been hiding out in and listened for any sign of intruders, but heard nothing and began calming down. As his breathing slowed, stings of pain tore away at his right cheek and he gasped in pain. Needing to find a mirror, he noted the moonlight's reflection to his left and swung his legs over to the carpeted floor and bolted towards it.

Squinting in the darkness he noticed a cluster of discolored bumps along the right side of his face. Thankfully there were no other signs of injury.

He slowly pieced together what he recalled and it was then things began making sense.

Looking towards the bedroom window he noticed it was still open and the broken vase lay in pieces beneath it, also left untouched by whoever had made their way inside.

_"But how?" _he asked himself as he was drawn towards the desk, his eyes widening as he found something that had been left behind.

Lying on the wooden desk was a Colt M4A1 assault rifle with a flashlight accessory, as well as an attached M-203 grenade launcher, along with four additional clips for the gun itself and two canisters carrying both napalm and explosive rounds for the grenade launcher.

"What the hell?" he asked, not knowing whether he should feel thankful or freaked out.

Near the assault rifle were his other guns with six fresh clips left for his Berettas and six new speed loaders for his S&W M629. Besides his firearms, both his katana and combat knife had been laid out on the desk and from the looks of things, had been cleaned and polished while he was out cold. All that was left were the three fragmentation grenades he had picked up from that dead mercenary outside the car dealership.

Whoever had broken into the apartment sure must have been interested in his personal safety if they were going to leave him with all of that weaponry.

In addition to all of the weapons, there was his side pack, some of the files he had acquired during his travels, the diamond-shaped key given to him by Sherry and the Umbrella ID card left in the manila envelope. Along with those items was a brand new set of clothes.

"Okay, now this is too weird…" Jake trailed off as he stared down at the clothing provided for him, which included a brand new pair of black cargo pants similar to the ones he wore into the city, a black button up BDU type of shirt with multiple pockets for storing extra ammo and supplies, a black muscle shirt for underneath, black steel-toed combat boots and a brand new Kevlar vest to replace the one damaged by the Hunter. All of the holsters and the utility belt he had brought in remained.

"Well what do we have here?" he asked as he found a note amongst the items and began reading it:

_Hello and happy Sept. 29__th__ Mr. Cavanaugh,_

_ My name is of no importance, but I'm sure you already know who I am._

_ I have been watching you very closely during your stay and I must say I am truly impressed by your abilities, now I know I was right in choosing you for this job. You should be proud of yourself my friend, and if you complete your job well enough, I might consider doubling your reward._

_ I understand you read Dr. Ramsey's journal and came across a rather distressing entry talking about the good Dr. Birkin being assassinated by Umbrella Special Services, but I'm afraid he is dead wrong._

_ Dr. Birkin isn't as dead as you might think he is. I assure you, he is very much alive and lurking somewhere in the city as we speak. Your mission is not complete and you will not be rewarded until he is snuffed out for good._

_ You were on the right trail by visiting the R.P.D. and I would suggest you not stray far from that location. Your destiny lies beneath the structure and it will be a difficult task, which is why I have left you some presents. Don't waste too much of that on the zombies, soon they will become the very least of your worries._

_ Now get yourself something to eat and be prepared to move as soon as you find this note. You don't have much time left to complete this task. You'll get there much faster if you play the board right, checkmate._

_ I wish you the best of luck and good hunting!_

Jake growled in anger and crumpled the note, "Arrogant fucker! As soon as I collect this bounty I'm taking you out too!" he shouted, tossing the crumpled ball across the room.

A wall-mounted clock was nearby, giving the time as 8:39 p.m. He had literally been knocked out all day long and wondered if anything important had transpired while he was unconscious.

_"What the hell did he mean I didn't have much time left?" _the hitman asked himself as he stared out the window, where a pyre still smoldered in the courtyard of the St. Michael's Clock Tower. More questions soon filtered into his head.

_"More importantly, what the hell did this guy mean that Birkin 'wasn't as dead as I thought he could be?' Does he know something I don't? Could he have come into contact with the guy, and if so, why didn't he just take him out himself? What I'd also like to know is how did he know where to find me?" _he asked as he squinted into the darkness for anything suspicious, but was unable to see clearly due to all the smoke. _"How could he have been watching me all this time? Where could he have safely observed me from in a shithole crawling with zombies? Could he be nearby?"_

Pushing the endless litany of questions from his head, Jake took off his tattered cargo pants and tossed them aside as he proceeded to put on the new clothes, which fit him comfortably.

_"I'd like to know how this guy knows my exact measurements too," _he thought as he began to strap on his holsters and then reach for his weapons, slinging the new assault rifle over his shoulder last before making his way into the kitchen area and walked over to the refrigerator.

Opening the door he looked inside to find a half full jug of orange juice and then in the freezer compartment to find some miniature pancakes, sausage links, egg patties and bacon.

"Probably won't hold me over for long, but it's better than nothing," he said to himself, pulling out the food he intended to eat and then grabbed a few plates. He then waited patiently as the food cooked and then pulled up a nearby stool and sat at the kitchen counter to eat his breakfast.

_"I also have to wonder what that guy meant when he said that I was on the 'right trail' by checking out the R.P.D. Technically I was just trying to survive, not search for clues to my destiny," _he thought as he took in a mouthful of bacon and then washed it down with some orange juice.

As he ate his eyes were diverted towards the diary sticking out of his side pack and he began to wonder about another part of the note.

_"He said my destiny was beneath the R.P.D. could he have been talking about that sewage treatment plant Sebastian mentioned?" _Jake thought as he ate the last of the sausage links, _"Wonder if this guy knew Sebastian?"_

Within seconds the hired gun finished his meal and left the plate and utensils on the counter, knowing he wouldn't be coming back and neither would the owner. Making his way over to the bathroom he took the time to relieve himself and then grabbed some mouthwash to freshen his breath, knowing it would be a while before he could brush his teeth again. Once that was done, he made one final check of his supplies and then proceeded to dismantle the barricade he had erected, hearing no signs of zombies in the hall as he removed the last couch.

"Back into the fire," Jake whispered as he opened the door just a crack and listened for any threats before easing it open and stepping back into the hallway. Carefully pulling the door shut behind him he then went into a crouched position with his rifle raised, continuing to listen for any threats before moving in a crouch walk. He continued until he reached the end of the corridor where the elevators waited.

An overpowering stench stopped the hitman dead in his tracks and left him clamping his gloved hand over his mouth and nostrils while holding the assault rifle in his free hand.

To his right was the stairwell entrance with a small lake of blood surrounding an opened door that was almost torn from its hinges and coated in a dried layer of blood. Tearing his hand away from his face he approached with both hands gripped tight to his rifle and looked down, his eyes widening in surprise.

"What the fuck?" he asked as he stared at a space filled with corpses that had either been shot up, hacked apart with some kind of large blade or even beaten to death, even one zombie whose head had been twisted around and left hanging at an awkward angle, held together only by strips of decaying flesh.

_"These freaks must've tried making their way up here while I was knocked out. Wonder how many of them are still walking around, if any. It's like an entire army came through and took them all down like they were nothing. I have to wonder if that weasel who knocked me out had backup. Christ, doubt I could've even done that much damage alone," _Jake thought as he turned his attention towards the nearby elevator.

It was a tempting (and faster) alternative compared to waltzing down a stairwell covered from head to toe in death, but still he had to wonder if it would be any safer. For all he knew, there could be a small group of zombies already clustered inside, or there could be one of those Lickers or Hunters lurking about in the elevator shaft, able to slice through the cables with their sharp claws. He would be a sitting duck in the confined space, especially if he reached his intended destination and found a whole bunch of them waiting outside.

_"Looks like watching all those late night zombie movies paid off," _he thought with a smirk, which quickly disappeared when he recalled a time where his father had lashed him with his belt for being up past his bedtime.

Taking a deep breath, Jake stepped into the stairwell and made his way down the gore-spattered stairs, careful not to touch any of the bodies or grip the railings, which were covered in bloody handprints.

He continued his descent until he reached the fourth floor, the very story he had entered the building through. Despite the butchery all around him he still had his doubts if the main entrance had been secured or not and decided to scope things out from above.

Stepping back onto a floor under heavy construction Jake only found the bodies of his previous kills, just as he had left them, yet he kept his guard up knowing they could still transform into those crimson-faced nightmares if they weren't properly disposed of.

The trail of bodies led him back to the apartment he had entered through and it was there he found one of those crimson-skinned zombies, its face caved in by what looked like a single punch. He had to stop and wonder if that one-eyed brute had been through here.

_"Can't stop and wonder or he'll find you," _Jake told himself as he made his way towards the opened window and climbed out onto the scaffolding.

More corpses littered the ground beneath him, all of them dispatched in similar fashion to those inside. A few more zombies had converged and were hunched over feasting away on their former undead brethren, but fortunately they were too far spread out to be a serious threat, meaning he would be able to just make his way down the ladder and then out through the front gates.

Over to his left he made out a well-lit rooftop from a couple blocks over surrounded by the red emergency lights, knowing right away it was the R.P.D.

He still couldn't believe he would have to travel all the way back there, especially after he had seen firsthand how the fortress-like structure had been overrun and remembered how he barely escaped the zombies that had come slithering in from the outside. No doubt the station was probably still teeming with those freaks and even the new ammo he carried left him questioning his chances again.

The hitman was snapped from his thought as he could hear another mechanical flutter from a distance and squinted until he was able to make out a dart-like object flying in his direction.

Right away he knew it was another helicopter and watched as the blue and white bird came into view with its emergency lights flashing.

_"Fuck, I'm too far away again!" _he thought to himself as he watched the chopper hover over the police station's well-lit roof and could hear the tinny drone of the pilot's voice calling out over the loudspeaker.

_"I can't set her down. I'll drop you a rope ladder. Grab onto it!" _the pilot called out to the unseen survivor and from his distance, Jake was able to make out the swaying ladder whipping violently in the wind generated by the rotors.

The chatter of machinegun fire cut through the air and within seconds the copter was spiraling out of control, a telltale sign the pilot had been hit. Jake could only watch helplessly as the aircraft was sent flying head on into the side of the building's rooftop.

"Shit," the hired gun muttered to himself, _"Guess there's no cheating my 'destiny' after all."_

He then descended the ladder and resumed his journey.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The streets had been far quieter than the night before, but moans from the walking dead still echoed from the distance.

Jake traveled at a brisk pace with his rifle drawn, knowing anything could pop out from the darkness at any given time.

As it had been around the grounds of Babel Tower, slaughtered zombies littered the pavement butchered in a multitude of horrendous ways. Some small army had been through the area and in a way it was a small blessing as it had saved him much trouble. So far, he hadn't even needed to fire his gun yet.

_"Whoever knocked me out was definitely through here," _he told himself, still unsure whether or not he should feel grateful or suspicious, _"Why else would anybody knock me out and leave me all that ammo rather than just killing me when he had me right where he wanted me? If he's good enough to jump me like it's nothing, then he could have taken Birkin out by himself and been saved from having to fork out ten million dollars."_

Could it have been orchestrated by that 'Fortune' guy mentioned in Sebastian's diary? He seemed to have it out against important figures within Umbrella according to the good doctor. Right now he seemed like the most logical choice for being his 'mysterious benefactor' and if not him, then who could it be?

_"Bottom line, there's somebody out there who really hates Umbrella. Whoever they are, they must know me and hate me too to ever think of throwing me into such a situation," _Jake thought to himself.

He had traveled quite far and now turned onto the street housing the R.P.D., where he could hear moans much louder and the dragging of feet telling him the zombies were nearly on top of him, but were enclosed by a circle of smashed up vehicles. With them out of the way he made a beeline for the iron gate, only to stop when he heard gunshots coming from within the pileup.

_"Another poor soul enters the fray?" _Jake thought to himself as he approached the point where a S.W.A.T. van and fire engine had collided and peeked through a crack. A few zombified police officers stumbled around, only to spring to life at the last second as another survivor made a mad dash around them, stopping to fire when anything stood in her way.

This survivor was an attractive young woman probably no older than twenty who had her long hair auburn hair worn in a ponytail. She wore a dark red vest with what appeared to be an angel design on the back over a black t-shirt and denim shorts, both worn over a black, short-legged skin suit. He also made out a Western-style side pack hanging around her waist and a knife holster positioned near her opened collar, like she was some kind of survivalist or something.

Jake watched in interest as the woman shot her way through the walking cadavers and then disappeared through a side gate that would take her into the courtyard. He had no idea what her intentions were for entering a zombie-infested station, but he would follow close behind and again peeked through the iron gate as she made her way through the front doors.

More moans sounded from behind and he turned to find more zombies approaching. Entering through the gates he found an iron pipe lying nearby and used it to wedge them shut.

"No dessert for you rotting bastards tonight," Jake chuckled as his pursuers threw themselves against the gate and moaned in frustration as they tried reaching through to him.

With that distraction out of the way, he turned around to survey the aftermath of the carnage from two nights ago that now surrounded him.

Dead bodies littered the cobbled courtyard, a varied mix of figures in police uniforms and civilian clothing, all of them shot up, torn apart, missing heads and limbs, or blown to bits. It was unknown if all the bodies had been here for the past two nights, but it looked like none of them would be transforming into those red-skinned zombies, or 'Crimson Head' as he heard one of the Umbrella mercs call them.

_"I've heard this city had more than one-hundred thousand residents, but with all these bodies I'm finding I'm surprised there are any left around to be zombies," _Jake thought as he stepped around the bodies, able to move more freely as the pooled blood had since dried.

A low moan called out from nearby and the hitman whirled around with his rifle raised.

From beneath the corpse of an overweight man in a soiled tank top another figure stirred. Furrowing his brow, he was prepared to fire until he noticed the familiar yellow vest and camouflage pants the reanimated figure wore.

"Brad," the hired gun muttered to himself as he took in the man's appearance, standing face to face with the now deceased S.T.A.R.S. operative, who would waste no time in charging toward him.

Not wanting to waste any more ammo, Jake rushed towards the undead pilot and performed a snap kick that caught him in the chest, sending the former human staggering backwards and tumbling over the railing behind him. A sick crack resounded from below and with the man dealt with he was free to enter through the front doors.

Making his way inside, he found more corpses littering the marble floor. No doubt some of the deceased were familiar faces, but he had no time to sift through them and mourn their losses. He had to find that woman.

She couldn't have been too far ahead of him and he listened for any signs of movement. A few moans were heard coming from the east wing, which he figured she would probably be smart enough to avoid. The double doors leading to the west wing were covered in blood in front of them he saw a few footprints that looked like they belonged to Western-style boots. Remembering the cowboy boots he saw the woman wearing, he made his way towards the doors.

Inside he found a waiting room devoid of any signs of life, and to his relief, no corpses in sight. The only thing that caught his interest was an old iron storage chest and he made his way over, hoping he could find something of use inside.

Lifting the heavy lid he began digging through the contents, finding mostly old ink ribbons, holsters for weapons, a broken shotgun and a few other items that would have been of no use until he spotted two red boxes and a green case.

_"I'm already doing well on ammo for my guns," _he thought to himself as he then looked through the green case, which contained 12-gauge shotgun shells, which would have been useful had his SPAS-12 not been reduced to pieces by the one-eyed giant. Already carrying a healthy supply of ammo, the hitman decided he would leave the ammo behind for any other possible survivors. Before he could lower the lid he spotted something that stopped him.

"Well what do we have here?" he asked himself as he pulled out a small white side pack designed specifically for carrying up to three Umbrella created first-aid sprays and found two canisters already in place. Remembering the can left behind for him, he slid it into the final slot. He almost felt guilty for taking it, but had a feeling there had to be at least one or two other survivors holed up elsewhere aside from the woman.

With his rifle raised, Jake exited the waiting room through a back door and found himself in a wide hallway with all of its windows smashed and a shutter control console with its cable snapped. Turning the corner, he found a police officer whose head had been cleanly sliced off and a deceased Licker lying nearby in a pool of blood with its body riddled by arrows. Once again, he wondered if this could have been the work of the woman, or some other fortunate survivor.

The next door led to the cramped hallway containing the station's briefing room, which was left vacant despite all the destruction left behind and he found himself looking down at a splintered wooden folding table that had once barred access to the hall. He stopped himself as he looked over to the windows, which were covered by weathered boards and kept his muscular form close to the wall.

Glass crunched beneath him with every step as he maneuvered around the fallen timbers with nails sticking out, discarded papers and other debris littering the linoleum surface. His movements were slow and methodical, keeping his ears open for any signs of danger as he passed the briefing room and approached a corner. Making a mental countdown from three he stepped out with his rifle drawn.

Slumped in the corner was another body, whom he was able to make out by what was left of his face as Officer Jameson. The lanky man's upper torso had been torn into and was only held upright by a damaged ribcage, along with his right arm being torn away and the damage to his face.

"Damn," the assassin muttered as he walked past the murdered officer and exited the battered hallway.

He stepped back into the hallway containing the west wing stairwell and the entrances to the darkroom and evidence room, where four dead bodies lay with arrows protruding from their bodies and an empty crossbow laying at the base of a broken window.

"I must be close," Jake whispered as he ascended the stairs and happened across another familiar corpse, this one an overweight bald man.

It was Officer Otis and his throat had been torn out, but it had been a bullet to the forehead that had killed him for good.

"_Not going to be an uncommon occurrence," _he told himself as he made his way down the corridor, where the warrior statue at the end was now missing its sparkling ruby and the two smaller busts were in place at both of its sides.

The hitman made his way through the door and reentered the same hallway he had been posted at two nights earlier, where he was met by the sight of three zombified police officers lying on the old wood riddled with bullets. Nearby was the S.T.A.R.S. office and he could hear voices within. Quietly approaching he listened in on another conversation.

"It's good to see you're still among the living," a youthful male voice spoke from behind the door, sounding as if he was only talking to one other person. "It looks like we're not going to find your brother here after all, so there's no reason for us to stay any longer than necessary. Let's split up, look for any survivors and get out of here."

"Right," a feminine voice replied.

"One last thing," and then there was a brief pause, "Here's a radio. Take it. That way, we can keep in touch if anything happens," the man spoke again.

"I can't believe what's happening in this city…" the female sighed and all was quiet except for a few footsteps.

"More survivors," Jake whispered to himself as he approached the door. Whoever they were, they sounded like they still contained traces of sanity within their tone and probably somebody he could talk to without them wanting to blow his head off right away. Erring on the side of caution, he knocked on the door and then leapt back, keeping his rifle ready just in case.

A collective gasp sounded from the other side and a few seconds of silence passed before the man's voice called out, "Who's there?"

"Another survivor," Jake replied, "Is everything alright in there?"

The door crept open and he was met by a young man who stood a little under six feet tall with chestnut-colored hair that reached down to eye level and was neatly parted down the middle. He wore a newer R.P.D. uniform similar to what Eric and D.J. both wore, suggesting he too was a fresh recruit. In his hands he clutched a Remington 1100 semi-automatic shotgun.

Looking him over with a careful eye the man didn't speak right away and then focused on his assault rifle.

"It's okay, I'm not here to cause any trouble," Jake said letting the rifle hang around his neck, "The streets are too dangerous and I came to see if I could find help."

"Is it just you?" the officer spoke, peeking his head out past the doorframe.

"I'm afraid so," the hitman replied as the same woman he had seen earlier stepped into view, a worried stare in her hazel eyes.

"Is everything alright?" she asked and when she stepped up he noticed the M-79 grenade launcher she now held.

"Yeah, it's okay," the cop replied and motioned for Jake to enter the office.

The door slammed shut behind him and the hitman reclined against a neatly kept desk in front of a fax machine and row of self help books as he took in his surroundings.

The office was slightly larger compared to some of the other offices he had seen in the building and there were six desks in the room, the one he sat on belonging to Brad Vickers according to the nametag, the S.T.A.R.S. pilot whom he had fought alongside against the monstrous brute that tried to kill him and Jill, also the man he had just killed.

Before the unit insignia at the front of the room stood a ransacked desk with the nametag of 'Albert Wesker,' the treacherous unit captain Jill and Brad had both told him about.

_"Wonder what the hell that's still doing here? Some people just have a weird sense of humor I guess," _he thought as he stared at desk of a man who had been dead for over two months.

Other desks were lined up facing each other, giving away small details about the personal lives of the members who once resided there. On the wall near one you had a mounted bluegill and the replica of a handgun resting on it, belonging to a 'Barry Burton,' probably an avid outdoorsman and gun enthusiast.

Next to it, you had a messy one with a World War II-era bomber jacket with some kind of angel design hanging on the wall and beneath it, a vintage guitar that Jake smiled at, the desk belonging to a 'Christopher Redfield,' probably someone around his age who lived life on the edge.

Adjoining the messy desk was a much cleaner one, with a blue beret resting on the desk and a picture of some young man, belonging to 'Jillian Valentine,' the very woman he had fought that brute alongside. His thoughts shifted back to the ex-cop and he wondered if she was still alive by this point.

The last desk must have belonged to a rookie judging by the unpacked boxes and a nearby first aid bag told that it must have belonged to a medic, a 'Rebecca Chambers' having once resided there.

Other than that, the room was nothing but a bunch of shelves containing old case files, a large communications console likely rendered useless given the current situation and a weapons locker to the immediate right of the entrance.

Distracted by his surroundings, Jake barely noticed the two survivors staring at him and he quickly snapped out of it. All was silent until the officer spoke up.

"My name is Leon by the way," the young man said extending his hand, "Leon Kennedy, I'm an officer with the R.P.D., or I should say _was _an officer here. It was my first day on the job too."

"Jake Smith," the hired gun replied returning the handshake, "I was trying to get through here on a vacation. Next thing you know, they're declaring martial law and we're all trapped in this dump…I know sucks to be me."

"Shitty timing I'd say," Leon mused as Jake approached the woman with his hand extended.

"Mine's Claire, Claire Redfield," the woman politely replied, "I came to find my brother Chris, he's a member of S.T.A.R.S.," she said motioning towards his desk.

"No luck finding him?" Jake asked.

"No," the woman spoke raising a teal colored book, "He's in Europe."

Now that the introductions were out of the way there was another question that popped into Jake's mind, "Just how did you two manage to get into this place? I thought the military had barricades erected on the outskirts to make sure nobody could get in and nobody could get out."

Leon and Claire looked towards each other flabbergasted and then back to Jake as the cop spoke up, "That's odd, I didn't see anything coming here, no barricades, no soldiers, nothing."

"Me neither," Claire said shaking her head, "Then again I haven't been following the news much lately, otherwise I probably could've avoided this place…but then I would've never found out what happened to my brother."

"You're right," Leon added before looking towards the door, "but right now we have other things to worry about. We were about to split up and search for any other survivors and then get the hell out of here," he said before grabbing a radio from a nearby shelf and handing it to Jake, "We're going to get out of this faster if we work together. Take this radio and let us know if you find anything."

"Think we might be able to get in touch with any others who might be holed up around the city?" the hired gun asked as he accepted the radio.

"I don't know, but with all the chaos going on right now I don't know if anybody is in a good position to talk. I couldn't get through to anybody on the way over here, so it's a long shot," Leon replied as he inspected his own radio.

"Got it," Jake nodded and then studied their weapons, "How are you both holding up for ammo?"

Leon raised his shotgun and checked how many shells he had left in the chamber, "I'm pretty tight so far. I'm down to six shells with nothing left in reserve. This might sound crazy, but I wasted most of my ammo blasting some skinless freaks with these long tongues in a burnt out hallway when I first got here. I'm pretty low on ammo for my sidearm too," he said displaying an H&K VP-70.

"Don't worry, you're not crazy. I've encountered some of those freaks too. I've been here for the past five nights and have seen all sorts of shit that shouldn't even exist," Jake spoke, unable to believe he had now survived five nights in this nightmare.

Leon and Claire stared at him in amazement.

"You've been here all this time?" the woman gasped, "Has it really been going on for this long?"

Jake again nodded, "From what I saw most of the R.P.D. got wiped out. A couple nights back there were a bunch of other people here too, but as you probably saw outside, the place got overrun and I barely escaped. I only came back because I heard rumors there was some possible way out of the city through here. What it is, I'm here to find out."

He then turned his attention to Claire's grenade launcher, "How about you? How are you holding up on ammo?"

"I just found this in the storage locker and I should have enough explosive rounds for it, but I'm pretty low on bullets for my Browning," she reported, patting the gun held in her holster.

"There's some handgun ammo I found in an old chest down in the waiting room adjoining the main lobby, found some shotgun shells too. Would be a good idea to check it out," Jake said, kicking himself for not bringing it up now that he had encountered some survivors to make use of it.

"What about you Jake, how are you holding up on ammo?" Leon cut in, looking at his M4A1.

"Just fine," the hitman nodded, "I've got plenty for this baby and a few more guns on me that are fully stocked, can never be too careful in this kind of hellhole."

"Better hope it doesn't run out anytime soon," Leon said eying him warily.

"I've made it five days in this mess, trust me I think I know what I'm doing by this point," Jake spoke in a tone bordering between respectful and condescending, "I did find these though," he added as he remembered the two additional first-aid sprays from the pack he found in the storage chest and pulled them out offering each of them to his newfound companions.

"Thank you," Claire spoke, just as her attention was diverted over to the nearby fax machine, where she noticed a fax that had just arrived a day earlier. She picked up the fresh document and read it to herself. Her eyes soon widened.

"Who's that for?" Leon asked walking up alongside her.

"It's for Chris," she said handing the fax over to him, who also read it to himself.

"What the hell? Could the Chief of Police really be that screwed up?" Leon asked, mortified about working for a corrupt police chief, who unknown to him had seedy dealings with an internationally renowned pharmaceutical chain. Claire shared his shock, learning her brother had been working for a scumbag all along.

They were collectively stunned at the thought of a legitimate business like Umbrella being involved in such shady activities, which by this point was nothing new to Jake.

"_And there's gonna be a lot more to come," _he thought staring at the two shell shocked survivors.

"Well whatever is going on, we'd better focus on finding whoever we can and getting out of here," Leon ordered and turned to his two companions, "I'll search the library and the clock tower area. Claire, search the second floor east wing and see if you can find anything at all. Jake, investigate the lower east wing and search the offices. If possible, check the basement corridor too. We have to find a way out of here."

"Right," Claire replied with a nod.

"I'm on it," Jake answered.

The three survivors stepped back into the hall and Leon and Claire would both make their way to the second floor lounge entrance.

"Good luck Jake. We hope to see you again soon," Leon called out with a wave over his shoulder.

"You can count on it. I'll radio if I find anything," the hitman replied as the two disappeared around the corner.

Jake looked down at the radio given to him and out of curiosity, began surfing through the channels, hearing mostly static until he heard the rattle of gunfire followed by a familiar voice.

"_Hello…can anybody hear me? This is Officer David McGraw of the Raccoon Police Department's S.W.A.T. team. I'm calling from the Raccoon City Zoo. I'm trapped here with some survivors and we're being overrun by these mutant animals. We need backup immediately and if the U.S. Army is receiving this transmission, we are not too far away from the I-96 barricade. We have wounded with us too and require medical assistance. Can anybody hear me? Please respond, over!"_

"Shit," Jake hissed and placed the radio close to his mouth, "David, can you here me? It's Jake, Jake Smith!"

A brief static filled pause followed.

"_Holy shit, Jake you're still alive!" _the S.W.A.T. officer called out from the other end, _"Thank God, we thought you were done in by those zombies. Is everything alright on your end? What is your current location?"_

"I'm fine," the assassin grunted, "I'm back at the R.P.D. and I've found two other survivors, one of whom is another one of your rookies you were supposed to be receiving."

"_What the hell are you doing back at the R.P.D.? That place must still be crawling with zombies!" _David shouted over the reports of a pistol, _"Kyle, get away from that window!" _he cried to another survivor, followed by what he swore sounded like the wail of an elephant. _"Okay, have you managed to find anybody else aside from those two you just mentioned?"_

Jake let out a brief sigh, "I've encountered a few, but I honestly don't know whether or not they're still alive. Is there anybody else with you aside from Kyle?"

More gunfire rang out before David could respond, _"So far it's down to me, Kyle, Samantha, Ben and a few members of the zoo staff. I have no idea where D.J. went off to and the others are…" _he trailed off unable to speak the words he expected, _"Never mind that. Jake listen to me, you need to round up any survivors you can and get the hell out of there. I don't know whatever possessed you to go back there, but that place isn't safe anymore, nowhere in Raccoon is safe anymore. Just get who you can and get out of there!"_

"Have you tried contacting anybody else? I'm sure there might be some other officers out there unaccounted for," Jake asked, remembering the scene with the chopper being shot down.

"_I've tried, but I'm afraid I got nothing," _David replied in a less-than-hopeful tone, _"We've been trying to get in touch, but communications from the station and the outside world are practically nonexistent at this point. It's a miracle I've been able to reach through to a small radio like yours. You're the first person we've had any contact with over the past few nights."_

"I understand," Jake replied looking out the window across from him, where he could see more zombies beginning to gather outside the front gate he had wedged shut.

"_Yeah, if I do get through to the military blockade, chances are they might only send help to the establishments closest to the city limits at the very least. Sending a rescue party into the heart of downtown Raccoon would be suicidal even for them," _David spoke, sounding tired and disgusted.

"I wouldn't blame them," Jake spoke, remembering the massacre on Ema Street and the other failed counter-offensives by heavily-armed survivors against the walking dead.

"_I'm sorry Jake, but I'm afraid you're going to be on your own for the rest of this whole ordeal," _David continued, _"We'd gladly help you out, but we're stuck here and the van we arrived in crashed. You're going to have to find another way out of the city. It'll be risky, but you might have to try the sewers, safer option than walking through the streets."_

"As if I'm not in enough shit already…" Jake grunted.

"_I know, but this is a situation unlike anything we've ever seen before. We're just as helpless as you are Jake; you're going to have to do this. Believe me, if I could go to bat for you on this I definitely would. I pray to whatever is out there that you and whoever else you can find will make it out of there with your skin intact. All I can do now is wish you the best of luck and hope that you make it out safe and sound," _David spoke grimly and a brief pause followed before Samantha's shrieks were heard in the background.

"_Oh god David get out here! Patrick's turning into one of those things!" _the woman screamed.

There was a click and then an empty hiss of static.

Jake lowered the radio and cursed to himself knowing they were probably screwed. At the same time, he felt there was a possibility that if David could pull his head out of the gutter, then maybe he could lead those survivors out of this nightmare.

As for the hitman, it was now down to him, Leon and Claire, the only other possible survivor being that fat pig Brian Irons and he didn't care much for the thought of escaping with him.

He remembered how Claire mentioned her brother was a member of S.T.A.R.S. From what he had been told, they claimed their commanding officer, Albert Wesker, was involved with Umbrella and their bio-weapons research.

Jake then recalled seeing the man's desk ransacked. Maybe somebody knew of his activities and was looking for evidence or trying to cover something up.

Making his way back into the office he walked over towards the turncoat captains desk, finding most of its papers and files spilled onto the floor. Anything he would he would have wanted was probably long gone by now and there was nothing left of use.

Before he could think of leaving, Jake's eye was drawn over to the wall near the group's insignia, where there was a group photo of the elite officers posing in front of a helicopter with their weapons in happier times.

"So these were the S.T.A.R.S. guys," he whispered as he looked each member over, thinking of how they looked like a motley crew of well-trained ass kickers, then thinking of how they had been reduced to next to nothing.

From left to right in the back row stood Kevin Dooley, a bald man whose friendly smile took away from the whole 'badass soldier' template, then Forest Speyer, a long-haired man in a blue vest proudly displaying a shotgun like it was a newborn child, Kenneth J. Sullivan, a tall bald man of African descent who smiled proudly for the camera, next being Richard Aiken, a short, yet brawny young man in a bright yellow vest that helped him stand out amongst his cohorts, but then he suddenly stopped as he came to the next man.

Standing tall next to Officer Aiken was an average-sized man clad in a black combat outfit with slicked back blond hair and a pair of aviator shades. He was listed as Albert Wesker, the traitorous captain himself. Indeed he gave off the vibe of a shady individual and certainly not somebody he would trust to lead him into battle.

Jake pushed the thoughts from his mind and continued down along the list, next spotting Barry Burton, a broad-shouldered, bearded behemoth who held what looked like a sniper rifle, when he looked more like the kind of guy who could cause plenty of damage on the frontlines.

Lastly in the lineup was Brad Vickers, the very man he had fought alongside a few nights earlier, clad in the same outfit from the picture, looking as if he were trying to disguise his unease at being surrounded by a group of guys who could have easily kicked his ass at the drop of a hat. Once again, he thought of how he had been forced to put the man out of his misery.

In the front row, kneeling at the far left was a powerful-looking man named Edward Dewey holding an H&K G3 SG/1 rifle, then next to him was Enrico Marini, an Italian man with a bushy mustache and gray tactical vest holding a Steyr AUG assault rifle, looking like a hardened veteran who had seen his fair share.

Jake was again momentarily stopped when he saw the next to faces in the front row.

First was Chris Redfield himself, a man he had heard so much about, staring back at him, holding an H&K MP5. Indeed he bore a striking resemblance to his younger sister with his matching auburn-colored hair and confident smirk.

Up next was Jill Valentine, the same woman from last night. In this photo her street clothes were replaced by a blue combat outfit with her wearing the same beret that now rested on her desk. It was still unknown whether or not she had escaped from the city and again he hoped for her safety.

Lastly in the picture was some cocky-looking man in a red bandana named Joseph Frost holding an Ingram M-11.

"_All of them together, no idea the fate that would soon befall them, as it was for everybody else. Fate doesn't discriminate._

"_It's allowed me to survive this long into the nightmare, but for how much longer?" _Jake asked himself as he took one final look at the picture before heading towards the door.

"_Whatever the case, I'm going to continue fighting for as long as I'm allowed to."_

Author's Note: And so another chapter ends and it ends with some familiar faces showing up people! Whoo hoo hoo! This chapter might be a little brief, but its main focus is to help introduce Leon and Claire into the fold and I also couldn't resist the urge to throw in a reference to ALL of the known S.T.A.R.S. members in this chapter, every time I think of that group picture from RE2 and 3 I always want to make some kind of big reference to it. Well that's it for now and until next time read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	31. Ch 30: Hunters and Hunted

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And so I return to you my loyal readers with the latest installment of "Reborn." This chapter was originally called "Mouth of Madness" in the original DA and an alternate title for this chapter could also be called "Sickness Within."

Without further ado, on with the story!

Chapter 30: Hunters and Hunted

After a fruitless search in the station's darkroom, Jake reentered the corpse-laden corridor and made his way towards a reinforced door he had passed by earlier.

_"Probably not going to find anything but a bunch of zombies running around here," _he thought as he noticed a diamond-shaped engraving above the door's lock. Thinking it could mean something, he remembered the pink key Sherry had given him, the one with the diamond-shaped head. He dug through his side pack until he found the key and slid it into the lock.

Faint moans emanated from the other side and the hired gun raised his machine gun in one hand while turning the key with the other. Once the door clicked open, he was bringing his foot up and kicking the heavy door open, knocking a shambling figure backward.

No sooner than the first figure had fallen, Jake was met by a tall man with graying hair in a S.W.A.T. uniform with his calf bandaged up, whom he recognized as Officer Fortay, now a full-fledged zombie and covered with the blood of a fresh kill. Bringing his rifle to eye level, he fired a controlled barrage that caught his target in its now rotting face.

He couldn't tell how many zombies were gathered in the room, but he could tell they were in a cramped quarters and it would have been a nightmare had he tried firing his rifle in the room. Instead, he waited for the remaining zombies to congregate before the entrance and let loose a barrage of screaming metal. The machinegun clicked empty before the last zombie could fall and he again brought his foot up, kicking the infected man backwards and sending him landing awkwardly against a row of dull gray lockers.

Six additional zombies lay dead at his feet and the hitman had to carefully step around their carcasses as he made his way into the confined evidence room, most of its space taken up by lockers and shelves containing the leftovers of crime scenes from all over Raccoon City. Seeing the zombie he had kicked backward still slumped against the lockers, he didn't know if he had broken its neck or cracked its skull open, but he pulled out his knife and drove it through the former denizen's eye socket as a precaution.

Looking around to see if he could find anything of use, all he could find were shotgun shells and a quiver of arrows for a crossbow, which he would leave behind for either Leon or Claire if they happened across the room.

Behind a row of lockers he found Dr. Peltz, more appropriately what was left of him, identified only by his badge. The former medical doctor had been skinned and parts of his body were scattered about the small room, a grisly demise which left nothing of use behind.

"I've had my fun here," Jake whispered as he ejected his spent clip and slapped in a fresh one before making his way towards the only other door in the room.

The next room was another office, the one adjacent to the waiting room. It was here more carnage awaited.

Furniture was scattered haphazardly as the desks were used to form a crude barricade, spent bullet casings littered the floor and blood was everywhere. There were six dead bodies lying towards the front of the room, all wearing police uniforms, and the additional headless corpse of a civilian lying in the doorway of a side office. Moving over to inspect the smaller office he was met by a familiar face.

"Marvin?" he asked as he spotted the tall man lying against the wall, his head hanging downward.

Taking a few steps forward, he gently nudged the man's foot with his own and the officer let out a slight grunt.

"Marvin, can you hear me?" Jake asked as he knelt down in front of the lieutenant, his light blue uniform shirt covered with blood.

Marvin Branagh let out a weak wheeze before slowly lifting his head, high enough for him to see who was kneeling before him just before his head fell again.

"Oh…it's you…Jake…you came back here…but why?" he spoke in short, ragged gasps.

"That's a long story for another time," the hitman replied, knowing there wouldn't be another time as he took in the officer's sorry state.

"That woman…she was here…looking for…her brother…Chris…" he continued.

"Yeah, Claire I ran into her. She's still alive," Jake reported.

"Get out…while you…still can…not safe here…he's gone insane…" Marvin choked out, hacking up some bloody phlegm.

"Who? Who's gone insane?" Jake demanded, but before he could get any answers the veteran officer passed out.

"Damn," he hissed pushing himself back to his feet and looking over to the desk, where he found another case of shotgun shells he wouldn't have any use for, but did find a heart-shaped key lying next to them.

"Better take it with," he said, scooping up the key and placing it in his side pack before exiting the office and making his way back to the main hall.

Crossing over to the eastern wing entrance, Jake entered only to be met by eight zombies, who could hear the door opening behind them and sprung to life.

"That's right, keep coming you bastards," the hitman muttered as he waited for the walking cadavers to assemble in one large mass, gripping the grenade launcher attachment of his new rifle. "C'mon damn it," he whispered, wanting to fire before they could get too close.

When a majority of the zombies had gotten close enough, he pumped the launcher and sent an explosive round flying into the heart of the crowd, the concussive force of the blast knocking him backward into the wall.

_"Damn, closer than I thought," _Jake thought to himself, his ears ringing after the blast and his eyes recovering after the flash.

Six of the eight zombies were blown to bits, but the seventh only had its legs destroyed and its upper torso continued crawling towards him. Shaking his head, the hired gun brought his foot down with enough force to snap the former human's neck.

The last zombie had been knocked onto its back by the small shockwave generated by the explosive round, now pushing itself back to its feet. Its recovery wouldn't last as Jake finished the skinny man off with a single round to the skull.

There were more torturous moans coming from around the corner and the hitman approached with his rifle drawn, rounding to find himself facing another figure he recognized. Ellen Sears, the very woman he had helped escort to safety from the library a few nights ago, now stood before him with jagged wounds over her shoulder and collarbone areas, leaving her unable to raise her left arm as she staggered towards him.

With a deep breath, Jake squeezed the trigger and unloaded a round to her face.

Listening to the woman's body hitting the floor he willed himself forward, not wanting to look back at his fresh kill. He knew he would have been overcome by pity had he looked back, remembering how he had risked his life to save hers and in turn, she had assisted Dr. Peltz in treating his leg wounds after he had reached the station. It was someone he knew had never wronged him in any shape or form, a woman who truly didn't deserve to die.

The other moans came from nearby and he looked over to find the entrance of the cafeteria, where a man in a green t-shirt had been impaled on the glass of a door's porthole, yet still thrashed away at the air in front of him when he sensed a human nearby.

Withdrawing his sword, Jake walked over and sliced the man's head off in one swift motion. Before he could bother to walk away, he noticed the bloodbath left behind in the dining hall.

The entire room was covered from top to bottom in gore. Like it was everywhere else, dead bodies congested the floor and were sprawled across tables and benches. Men and women of all ages clad in street clothes lay alongside officers, their bodies decorated by deep gashes and some of them missing limbs. Bullet and shell casings littered the tile floor, lying next to the splintered weapons that had discharged them.

Lying amongst the human corpses Jake found the perpetrators, three Lickers who had been rattled with machinegun rounds and shotgun blasts.

"Damn…they never even stood a chance," the hired gun muttered as he noticed another familiar face lying near an overturned table, belonging to the Road Demon known as Ace. The burly biker's entire upper torso had been separated from its legs by a ragged slice that left his now dried intestines spilling out. Only when he stepped back from the doors did he take notice of the blood covered chains which shackled them shut.

_"There's another corridor I haven't touched yet, probably won't find anything, but still have to check it out," _he told himself as he approached the remaining door.

Throwing the door open, Jake was met by four zombies who broke out of their docile trances to attack the second he appeared. All hostiles were cut down in a hail of gunfire, yet he stopped himself before he could exhaust another clip.

The closest door was a reinforced steel door with iron bars over its porthole, like an interrogation room. Walking past a row of boarded up windows he approached the door and noticed another pink diamond etching above the lock. Pulling out the diamond key he slid it in and turned the latch, but before he could open the door he heard more gunfire coming from down the hall.

"Another party going on without me?" the hitman asked, making a run down the hall past an observation room and a few more offices before he reached the source of the gunfire, coming from an office across the station's press room. Hugging his back against the wall, he waited a few seconds before leaping in front of the door and knocking it open with a snap kick.

Switching on his flashlight attachment, Jake found himself in a poorly-lit office with several desks and chairs overturned and an overhead vent hanging open, suggesting a possible escape attempt. Shining his light down onto the tiled floor he found two corpses that had been dispatched by head shots, strangely though, one of them possessed a clear skin tone like he must have still been alive when he was shot.

"Wait!" a youthful voice called out.

BANG! BANG!

"What the hell?" Jake hissed as he knelt down behind a desk. Those shots had come from a side office with its blinds drawn and its door ajar. A sick laughter came from within and he inched closer.

"Yes, writhe in agony like the pathetic little worm you are!" an older, high-pitched voice called out, one he recognized.

Peeking through the crack, he found Chief Irons standing over the corpse of one of his own subordinates with a smoking gun in hand.

"You thought you were too smart for your own good, didn't you Pascal? You thought you knew every single secret this station holds, didn't you? Well you were dead wrong you incompetent slug! There is only one true master of this domain and that is me!" the madman spoke, pointing a thumb to his chest in triumph. "You just wouldn't fucking die, well I made sure that did happen. Nobody is getting out alive! Nobody!"

Jake had heard enough and threw the door open, startling the chief and making him almost drop his gun.

"You!" he cried raising his hands in defense, "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with the others!"

"I thought your fat ass was supposed to be with the others too," Jake shot back before lowering his eyes to the corpse on the floor, a young officer who appeared to be unarmed. "Gunning down your own men I see, huh?"

"No!" the stout man shouted waving his hands, "He was becoming one of them! Honest! He was going to devour me alive! I had to shoot him before he could transform!"

"Yeah right, you're a piss poor fucking liar!" Jake shouted stepping forth, "I heard that man's voice. He didn't sound too dead to me. If you ask me, I'd say you must have been in the middle of hunting him down, weren't you?"

"No, I swear!" the chief shouted, sounding visibly petrified. It sounded like the hired gun was succeeding at getting inside his head, but at the same time it could have been an act to get him to lower his guard. The man he was dealing with was a full blown backstabbing psychopath and wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in him the second he lowered his gun.

"Liar, I can smell you from a mile away. Your hasty movements, your tone of voice, the sweat on your forehead, not to mention that little speech I overheard you about nobody getting out alive…you're hiding something and I can sense it, we 'street scum' aren't as stupid as we look. Face it Moby Dick, you're not fooling anybody for a second!" Jake spoke with his M4A1 trained on the man's bulbous gut, a confident smirk creeping onto his features.

The innocent act put on by the Chief quickly vanished and was replaced by a look of pure rage at being found out and taunted by an ordinary civilian. "You foolish bastard, do you seriously think your little discovery will get you anywhere? This town has gone up in flames and crumbles with every passing second! Everyone is going to die you idiot!"

"You're right porky, somebody is going to die and it won't be me going on the grill tonight!" Jake retorted with a harsh laugh.

"Enough!" Irons screamed and raised his own gun, "Laugh all you want you worthless punk. You're going to end up just like everybody else and soon, I will laugh when you are torn limb from limb by those walking corpses outside. Those fools at Umbrella lied through their teeth when they promised to take care of this city, but look at what they have done!" he motioned with a wave of his hands, before a sadistic glimmer entered his eyes and his lips curled into a predatory snarl.

"I thought I would sit back and wait for this city to do itself in, but then I realized something from all of this madness. I was inspired to hunt down and kill every remaining survivor myself!" he shouted in near hysteria.

"Alright, you've gone off the deep end. Anybody could be a blind man and figure that out," Jake taunted.

"I know that even if I don't kill you, something else will! Nobody gets out alive!" Irons shouted wildly.

"I don't think so pal," Jake replied, knowing what the madman would likely pull next.

Without a word, Brian Irons raised his gun and opened fire. This is what the assassin had anticipated and he dove out of the doorway, the bullets directed at him chipping away at the wooden frame.

"You're pretty quick for a beached whale, you know that?" Jake laughed harshly as he scampered behind a row of desks, hoping to get inside the man's head long enough to score his critical shot.

"I'll kill you, you impotent fool!" the Chief screamed firing round after round towards the hitman, his bullets striking piles of paper and computer monitors, sending sparks and scraps blowing through the air.

"Really, I'd look downward if I were you buddy! Don't look very up to task yourself!" Jake shouted. Dealing with a gun-toting human being was completely different from battling hordes of the living dead; he had to be quicker and much more cunning to make it out alive. He popped up and fired his own burst at the Chief, shattering a window behind him and then firing a long torrent that sent the blubbery man cowering into a cubicle as shredded books and files rained down upon him.

Brian Irons exhaled as he ducked into the partitioned cubicle, checking his clip to see he had six bullets left in his current one and would need to reload soon. He seethed with anger and tried keeping his panting down, not wanting to give away his positioned in the darkened room.

A lowly piece of street trash ridiculed him and he was determined to make him pay for his misdeed. He had underestimated the younger man as he turned out to be a much greater threat than expected. This was no ordinary civilian he was dealing with; this man had to have the training of a professional.

A loud clank startled the chief and he looked down to see a thermos lying next to him, and the young man standing above him with a light shining in his face.

"Surprise!" he chuckled.

"D-Damn you!" Irons screamed in desperation and raised his gun, only to have it kicked from his hand. He yelped in pain as the gun skidded across the floor in front of him and tried to crawl away, but was knocked forward by the younger man driving his foot into his lower back and bouncing his cheek hard against the floor.

"Why don't you wallow in your own filth like the swine that you are?" Jake again taunted as he stood over the crawling man and fired at the floor around him just so he could listen to him cry out in fear. After ruining so many peoples' lives with his association to Umbrella, he was getting his just desserts.

"No, please don't shoot me!" the Chief pleaded as he threw his arms over his head and nearly fell over.

"You're Umbrella's bitch! Give me a reason why I shouldn't liquidate your lard ass?" Jake spoke narrowing his eyes at the frightened chief. He could only picture the victims of Umbrella standing around laughing at this sorry excuse for a human being after all the suffering he had contributed to. This man was no longer in a position to threaten anybody.

"You're not so tough now, are you Irons?" he asked as he stepped on the man's hand and pushed down, just so he could listen to him scream in pain.

"Please I'm begging you! You can just run off and I promise I'll go on as if I never even saw you!" Brian Irons screeched, now on the verge of tears with his face as red as a beet, but was cut off by a boot to his flabby side.

"Bullshit! I know you, you manipulative piece of crap. The second I turn around you're just going to reach for your gun and shoot me in the back! That's not going to happen!" the hitman roared and drove his foot into the chief's flabby stomach. Continuing his assault, he lifted the man by his collar and threw him against a bulletin board knocking the contents to the floor and then drove his fist into the man's gut, feeling the layers of cellulite vibrate beneath the blow.

Towering over his adversary, Jake grabbed the man by his vest and drove his knee into his stomach before delivering a vicious backhand that sent him flying over another desk. Waiting for the overweight chief to rise back to his feet, he capitalized with a thrust kick that the man pitifully tried to block, but was still knocked backwards over a swivel chair.

"You brash degenerate! If Umbrella finds out you killed me they'll be all over you like the plague! They'll have your head on a silver platter in no time!" Chief Irons blurted out, only to be cut off again as he was yanked up by the collar.

"Ha! I hope you do realize there's nobody around to witness me blowing your fucking head off! If you die right now, nobody will notice," Jake grunted as he held the shorter man close so he could look into his cold bluish-gray eyes, wanting him to experience the cool touch of death before he was cast down into the fires of Hell.

"Then again, so will those people out there whose lives you helped ruin if you kill me," he added as he pulled out one of his Berettas and placed the barrel underneath the Chief's wrinkled chin. "Trust me; it would be more merciful for me to put a bullet in your thick skull right now than having to feed your sorry ass to those zombies out there. Be lucky I'm giving you a choice, shitbag!"

Jake then fired a round which sailed past the Chief's ear, nearly clipping it and sending him falling back to the floor again.

"Y-Y-You won't get away with this!" Irons screamed in defiance.

Unknown to his enemy, the corrupt Chief was lying in front of the desk of an Officer Briscoe, as evidenced by the family portrait his youngest daughter had drawn which he proudly displayed on the front. He knew of an extra gun the officer kept hidden in a shoebox beneath his desk and was reaching for it.

"Even if you do make it out of here alive, you'll still have an entire country calling for your blood you cop killer!" Irons called out as he inched further and further until he could feel the cool metal grip in his hand, "You're dead either way!"

"Heh, who's around to spread the word?" Jake asked as he glared down upon him with the M4A1 trained on his heart, not intimidated by his idle threats. If he couldn't prove that Irons was a liar, then the S.T.A.R.S. members could.

"You're dead!" Irons screamed, thrusting another gun into his face.

Anticipating such a move from an opportunist weasel, the hired gun slapped the man's hand away, forcing him to fire into a nearby plant and shatter the pot to pieces. With his other hand, he stuck a finger into the trigger ring of the pistol and with a flick of his thumb, spun the firearm into his own hand. His movements were executed with lightning speed and precision. Before the Chief could register what happened, he was staring down the barrel of his own weapon.

"You…"

Jake gave the handle of the gun a firm squeeze and ejected the clip, letting the bullets spill onto the floor and tossed the now empty gun aside.

"Deranged psychopaths shouldn't be playing with guns," he smirked and delivered another punch to Irons' stomach followed by a right hook that sent him up against another desk. With a spin of his body, he ducked low and performed a sweeping kick that again took the fat man from his feet.

"Typical rat, you're not so tough when you're forced to go face to face with your opponent rather than sneaking up on them," he chuckled as the man was backed against a wall.

Seeing the Chief near a fire extinguisher Jake fired another round and struck the red tank, spraying steam all over his opponent.

"No! Please don't!" Irons shrieked, raising his hands again as he was now back to where his original gun had fallen.

"Shut up!" Jake growled and kicked him back again. "I've given you enough time to state your peace, but now it's over and you'll get no chance for last words this time, bub!" he spat as he leaned closer towards the cowering man.

"Please don't kill me!" the Chief miserably begged as he stared at the gun pointed in his direction.

"Now the suffering you've caused will end!" Jake Cavanaugh said cocking his gun.

Brian Irons could only stare in wide-eyed horror as his life flashed before his eyes. Here he sat about to have his life ended by some nobody punk. All the hard work he had done for his community and for Umbrella was now in vain, plus he would never get back at those who had made all those cruel jokes at his expense. He had nothing left, absolutely nothing.

Jake stood tall over the defeated chief and pulled the trigger.

CRASH!

A thunderous explosion rang out from behind and knocked the criminal from his feet, throwing off his aim and sending his round intended for Irons' fat skull into the wall just inches away.

Jake grunted in anguish as fresh waves of pain shot up and down the right side of his body on which he had landed. "What now?" he muttered as he turned to see what had just come crashing in.

In a large hole where the office's entrance once stood was a seven foot tall behemoth in a dark green trench coat. Unlike the brute who had stalked him on the streets, this giant was completely bald with a pale gray skin tone and soulless white eyes, his only similarity being fists the size of bowling balls.

"And who the hell are you?" Jake sarcastically asked as he pushed himself back to his feet and trained his M4A1 on the new threat.

The giant ignored him and began its stride, raising its enormous fist and bringing it down upon the nearest desk, reducing it to splinters within a split second.

Brian Irons had regained his senses when he heard the deafening crash and felt around his body, breathing a sigh of relief to find that he had not been shot. The assailant's attention had been diverted.

Leaning over to get a good look at the man in black, he spotted another form of the Tyrant line created by Umbrella known as the 'T-103' or 'Mr. X' for short, familiar with them from a previous visit to one of the company's secret laboratories. Why it was here now he had no idea.

From what he knew, the 'Mr. X' series possessed all the physical attributes of the early T-003 variant, but were programmed to be far more intelligent than the former and could be trained to perform certain tasks and pursue specified targets.

One thing was certain; they were in the process of being trained to avoid Umbrella personnel, including specific persons of interest. Judging by the look of things right now, Mr. X seemed more interested in the degenerate hooligan than him.

_"Yes, deal with that crass barbarian for me," _the Chief thought to himself as he snuck out of the office.

The giant continued its march towards Jake, stopping only to demolish another desk that stood in its way, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate its opponent into surrender.

Jake would not back down and took aim at his new adversary, _"If I can survive that brute in black, I sure as hell can survive this clown."_

"Bring it on!"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Sometime later Brian Irons had managed to make it back to the safety of his office, sneaking in through a secret passage in the janitorial closet as the front entrance had been barred by the burning wreckage of a police helicopter.

He relaxed in his high-backed leather chair almost in a trance after what had just transpired.

_"That pitiful fool had the nerve to do that to me, to me Brian Irons, Chief of the Raccoon Police Department!" _he thought staring off into the distance.

Under normal circumstances he would have dispatched some of his men to track the perpetrator down and haul him in, where he would have been dealt with for a laundry list of offenses and then left to the mercy, or lack thereof, of Judge Sanderson, who had a reputation as a modern day 'hanging judge.'

_"What good would that do? I'm not even a police chief anymore. I have neither a department nor any officers to supervise, it's just me now…all because of Umbrella," _he thought with a feral growl

He always thought how if somebody bothering him were to ever bypass his boys in blue, then he could have gotten in touch with his contacts at the pharmaceutical company, who in turn could have tracked the man down and arranged an 'accident' that would have spelled his doom.

_"But they would have fucked that up too," _he thought with a taunting smirk, _"I could never trust them ever again after something like this."_

By now they were probably all dead and walking amongst their own abominations. Spencer and the rest of the higher ups were probably hard at work plotting a cover up of the whole catastrophe.

The anger felt towards Umbrella snapped him out of his reverie and he looked around the cramped foreboding atmosphere generated by his windowless office and the dull grayish-brown walls and bare floorboards that came with it. Even the stately furniture and expensive Persian carpets could not take away from the depression generated.

Worse yet was the presence of the Chief's stuffed animal collection gathered from years of previous hunting expeditions all over his native Raccoon City and all over the world as well. Their lifeless, glassy eyes stared out in all directions upon any visitors unfortunate enough to be called into the man's office. There were deer and moose heads, a falcon perched upon a lacquered branch, various small and harmless-looking fluffy critters and even a raccoon who almost smiled upon the guests, all of them frozen in death and preserved in poses given to them by the taxidermist's art.

In a twisted sense the man was not entirely alone.

Laid out on the desk before him was Beverly Warren herself, still in her expensive party dress, large sections of its white fabric turned crimson by blood from a massive wound in her side.

"My dear Beverly…" he muttered staring down upon the young woman and gently stroking her long golden locks. She was dead, murdered by the very hand of her 'Uncle Brian.'

Entrusted to the Chief's care by her father, she had wanted to escape through the secret passage below his office, but he wouldn't allow it and ended her life with a shotgun blast to the torso.

_"So young, so beautiful, so affluent…I could never allow you to leave me," _he thought as he lovingly stroked her porcelain perfect skin, which would soon shrivel up and decay if action wasn't taken to forever preserve her beauty.

_"Action will be taken," _he told himself as more gruesome thoughts echoed throughout his demented mind.

She would become yet another trophy in his collection, but she would be different, she would be his masterpiece, the most prized of all his collectibles. Frozen forever in the pose he chooses to give her, she will remain ageless and beautiful for all eternity.

He leaned towards the woman attempting to plant a kiss on her still warm forehead, but was halted by a stinging pain in his abdomen, caused by a hard punch from that bastard street thug.

"Detestable hoodlum…" he growled clutching his sore stomach and leaning back, "…my pride wasn't the only thing you tried taking away from me," he grumbled with some deep breaths.

Chief Irons recalled the man's physical appearance and started thinking to himself again.

_"Fairly young, probably in his early to mid-20's, stood about six foot three, short black hair and a matching goatee, bluish-gray eyes, muscular build, dressed entirely in black. That man definitely looked familiar from somewhere. Exactly where, I have no idea."_

It suddenly clicked in his mind that he had a book full of criminal mug shots from all over the country in the top left hand drawer of his finely crafted oak desk. Whoever this young man was, he looked like a criminal and was certain to be in this book.

Leafing through the massive book he scanned the black and white images of men and women wanted for numerous offenses, including pictures with large 'X' marks drawn over them in bright red marker indicating that the felon had either been arrested or killed. Continuing his search further, he moved on until finding the young man he had been looking for and laid the book down with a sense of accomplishment.

Looking up from the book was a man who wore the same look of grim hatred as he had in person, his unkempt facial hair making him look years older than what his biography had suggested.

"Jacob Randolph Cavanaugh," Chief Irons read aloud, "Born January 12, 1974 in Somerset, California, wanted for several counts of murder, known in various criminal circles as 'The Red Dragon' and known to have connections to the New York-based O'Bannon Mob."

_"Now I know I was right in recognizing you from somewhere. You're quite the well-known figure Mr. Cavanaugh, and you're right here in Raccoon City, my city of all places," _he thought, leaning back in his chair and pressing his hands together in a steeple position, tapping his fingers together idly.

Looking to his desk he noticed the Browning HP resting on its surface, the same gun he nearly lost after it was shot from his hands.

_"To think I could have put a bullet in your brain and brought your maggot-riddled corpse in to collect a handsome reward," _the Chief mused, picking up the pistol and pretending to point it at the wanted criminal.

_"Maybe capturing someone of your stature dead or alive would have silenced all those meddlesome fools working under me and I could finally have gotten some damned respect around here. Hell, I was planning on running for mayor before this cluster fuck started. Capturing you Mr. Cavanaugh would have sent my approval ratings through the roof and given me some much needed ammunition in the race against that useless Warren coward."_

Reaching into the center drawer Irons pulled out a bright red marker.

_"In a previous time you would have been a threat Mr. Cavanaugh, but no more, not in this decrepit nightmare. You're still a worthless degenerate, yes, but a serious threat, no. It would be a waste of time to hunt you down now, soon you'll end up just like the others," _he told himself as he drew an 'X' mark over the man's mug shot and then put the book away.

His small deed accomplished, Chief Irons spun around in his swivel chair to face the tacky modern art painting on the wall behind him, consisting of mostly black and a variety of lurid colors. It concealed a secret puzzle he would use to access the passageway behind a false section of the wall that led down to his secret 'workshop of horrors.'

The madman was in an almost catatonic trance, so deep it wasn't even broken by a resounding explosion that had come from where his front entrance had once been. He could however register footsteps, too fast to be those of a walking cadaver. Perhaps Umbrella had sent somebody to silence him after all.

Author's Note: And so for the sake of anybody who though Chief Irons was a twisted creep, we at least get to see Jake open up a can of whoop ass on his flabby ass before he gets what he really has coming to him in the end, although it was tempting to alter the canonical events and let our favorite antihero put a bullet in him, then again poor Claire would have never gotten a chance to see firsthand what a bastard he really was either.

Well that's it for this edition of "Darkness Arises: Reborn," so please read and review and join me again next time! Until then, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	32. Ch 31: Wrath of the Tyrant

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: What author's note? Aside from the fact that this chapter in the original DA was called "They Call Me X" I can't really think of anything else to say so ah fuck it and on with the story!

Chapter 31: Wrath of the Tyrant

Jake raised his rifle and fired a volley of hot lead into the giant's torso, his line of fire traveling up to its stone cold face. The rounds succeeded in snapping its head back, but it shrugged them off and the nameless brute looked towards him with an emotionless stare, unable to tell if it was angered by his attack or not.

The Tyrant responded by grabbing a nearby computer monitor and drew its arm back before chucking it like he was throwing a baseball.

Jake saw the object flying towards him and ducked behind a desk just in time, feeling the whoosh of the monitor ruffle his hair.

_"Damn this guy's fast," _he told himself checking his current clip, _"but so was that one-eyed brute on the streets and I survived his punk ass," _he thought as he peeked his head out to see the giant walking down the aisle in a slow, methodical pace.

Breaking into another sprint, the hired gun leapt behind another row of desks as he ran sideways while firing his gun at the brute and riddling it with more bullets before his clip ran dry.

Coming to a stop at the end of an aisle the hitman looked down to his M-203 grenade launcher attachment, "Alright, time to see what you can do against this freak," he whispered pumping the weapon.

The Tyrant continued its march towards the new target, the wounds in its body mending slowly. Its mission was unknown, but it was programmed to eliminate anything that stood in its way, excluding Umbrella personnel.

Readying the grenade launcher, Jake planted his feet firmly onto the floor as he fired. This hissing round struck the giant squarely in the chest and knocked it back a few steps, but nowhere near from its feet.

"Have another!" he shouted firing another explosive shell into his opponent's chest, causing it to nearly stumble over another desk. The monster shrugged and brought its wrecking-ball like fist down onto the desk, obliterating it to splinters. Jake didn't stop and took a few steps back before firing another round, this time catching the beast in the gut and causing it to buckle over slightly, limping a few steps before continuing its monstrous pursuit.

Jake remained on the move, firing another burst that caught the Tyrant in the shoulder. He overturned a metal filing cabinet hoping it would get caught as it passed. Using the distance given, the hitman slapped in a fresh clip and squeezed off a few extra rounds into the brute's head, which would shake the rounds off like it was being pelted with beanbags.

_"This fucker's going to take a little work," _he thought as he waited for the brute to round the corner. As he expected, it walked dumbly into his trap, getting its massive foot caught in the filing cabinet, leaving a large indentation in the metal surface like it had just stepped into a mud puddle. The creature shook its leg in frustration as it attempted to remove its massive foot, leaving it wide open for more attacks.

"That's right," Jake chuckled as he fired another round from his grenade launcher, striking the beast in the forehead and sending it collapsing into a nearby wall, leaving a large indent behind.

"Just keep coming to me and I'll have you down in no time pal," the hired gun nodded firing another round into the brute and knocking the monster further back, destroying a large portion of the wall behind it. He was getting low on explosive rounds and would soon be forced to retreat and reload, not knowing how much of an impact napalm rounds would have on this freak.

Just as he prepared to fire his next round he was caught by surprise.

Using all of its strength, the Tyrant lifted its leg up and heaved the filing cabinet into the air like it was kicking a soccer ball. It was something its human adversary wasn't prepared for and he barely had time to duck beneath the container as it went crashing into the nearest wall and crumpled like a soda can.

"Holy…" the hitman didn't even have time to get the next word out as the brute was soon hovering over him and about to bring its foot down. Rolling to the side as fast as he could, he barely missed its massive boot and a small crater was left where his head once rested.

The robotic stalker didn't stop and raised its fists into the air, coming down with a double hammer punch that shattered another desk into pieces. Just as Jake pushed himself back to his feet he found a haymaker punch flying in his direction.

He barely sidestepped the attack and listened as the giant's fist went crashing into the wall behind him. Fortunately, his assailant had also gotten stuck and struggled to free itself, allowing him to fire a few more potshots into its neck and head before firing another explosive round.

The blow had done visible damage to the giant, but he had also inadvertently freed his assailant and it spun around with its arm extended, forcing him to roll to the side before rising to his feet and firing another round into its chest.

"Fuck," he grunted before withdrawing his combat knife and in an act of desperation, chucked it at the monster catching it squarely in the eye.

The Tyrant was halted dead in its tracks and stopped to pull the blade from its eye socket, a fountain of purplish blood gushing out. Tilting its head back, the beast closed its massive fist around the blood-soaked knife and the crunch of metal sounded. Opening its hand a second later, it let the piece of warped steel clatter to the tile floor.

Lowering its head, the B.O.W. allowed the last of its diseased blood trickle from its face, which was followed by the sounds of crunching bone and ripping sinew before opening its right eye to reveal a new one had grown in place of the former.

"Looks like that didn't work. Time to think up another strategy," Jake whispered as the giant continued its pursuit of him, raising its fists into the air and executing another sledgehammer-like strike to the floor.

The entire room vibrated under the force of the powerful blow and the hitman was knocked from his feet like a rag doll, falling at the base of a water cooler and bringing his arms up just in time to prevent the half-full cooler from falling onto his face.

More earth-shattering footfalls followed and Jake wiped the water from his face to see his ever defiant pursuer gaining ground on him once again, reaching one of its colossal hands out with fingers ready to clamp down on his skull with a vice-like grip and then crush it like an egg.

Trying to inch himself backward, the hitman fired his last explosive shell into the monster's face, stunning it long enough for him to rise back to his feet. Looking up, he saw that he had been under an electrical box and then got another idea.

The Tyrant thrashed about wildly before him, blinded by the shell to its face. He noticed the B.O.W. appeared to have advanced hearing and would play that to his advantage. Firing another barrage into the giant's chest and face, his plan was working as the beast stumbled towards him and he ducked under a blind clothesline from his adversary.

_"Over here," _he thought as he knocked on the metal surface before diving to the side. Acting on instinct the creature turned in the direction of the noise and drove its fist straight into the box.

A loud explosion followed by several lesser sparks occurred and within seconds waves of electricity were coursing through the behemoth's tank-like body, forcing it to spasm uncontrollably, but making no screams of anguish as it convulsed and thrashed. A few violent pops later the brute collapsed to the floor and lay perfectly still.

"Damn…now that was a rush right there," Jake gasped, supporting himself on a nearby desk.

He had just emerged victorious over yet another one of the Umbrella Corporation's top B.O.W.'s, a literal walking battle tank with a seemingly bottomless reservoir of endurance that sought him out for no known reason.

Still he remained wary of standing in the same room as the fallen giant. He had seen plenty of horror movies in his life to know that the bad guy never dies after the first confrontation and just stepping near it usually led to the 'dead' villain springing back to life and breaking the hapless survivor in half.

_"It happened in the first 'Biohazard' movie when that squad leader thought he had taken down the 'Despot' with a whole shitload of grenades, only to end with him hooting and hollering like the drunk redneck he was and next thing you know, the thing's shooting its claws through his stomach," _Jake thought to himself before remembering the real life occurrence from a few days back, _"That's also what happened to Chavez when we thought we had dropped ol' One Eye."_

From near the giant's prone form, he noticed the glint of metal and approached from a safe distance to see two extra speed loaders for his magnum revolver.

_"Damn, I didn't notice those before. Wonder where those came from, unless Baldy dropped them. I don't wanna go near the guy, but still they're too good to pass up at a time like this," _Jake told himself as he found himself creeping towards the tempting ammunition, never taking his eyes away from the sleeping monstrosity. Reaching his hands out he swiped the speed loaders up before backing out of the room with his rifle trained the whole time.

Stepping back into the corridor he was met by another click coming from behind.

"Lower your weapon at once!" a voice called out, one that was trying to be authoritative yet filled with anxiety at the same time.

Spinning around with his weapon raised, he found himself facing another young officer in a grime-spattered uniform, a baldheaded man whom he recognized as George Scott, the man who had spent a lot of time around Mayor Warren. In shaky hands he held a Remington shotgun, a look of terror in his blue eyes. He looked unsure to be pointing his gun at another human being and the hitman gradually lowered his rifle.

"You're that Smith guy aren't you?" Officer Scott asked.

Jake nodded and looked over to the office he had just emerged from.

"I-I heard a bunch of gunfire. I thought the cavalry had arrived, but then it stopped and I was hoping somebody was still alive out here and I came to check," the cop replied and then looked a little closer at him, "Is it just you or are there any other survivors still running around here?"

Jake nodded again, "Yeah, I encountered another fellow officer of yours, that Leon guy that was supposed to be starting today and he had some girl with him, says she's the sister of one of your S.T.A.R.S. members."

"Thank God, I was starting to think I was the last person left alive around here…" the officer sighed falling back against the wall and slinking into a sitting position, "…aside from that homicidal freak Irons."

"Yeah, I encountered that fat bastard too. I was going to blow his fucking head off when some giant freak decided to spoil the party. Fucker got away, although I'm sure he probably didn't get too far," Jake spoke, his tone dripping venom as he looked off into the distance, "So what are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to have escaped with the others?" he asked looking down to the distressed officer.

George nodded slightly, "I was. I was trying to get Mayor Warren to the helipad when we were attacked by one of those Licker creatures. I tried holding it off while the mayor and the others escaped. Christ I don't really recall much of what else happened after that…I've been spending most of my time hiding…" he said hanging his head in shame.

He then motioned towards a nearby jade-colored door, "I've been hiding in the press room for the past day hoping somebody would come and help, but with all those bastards still running around I had lost all hope…until you came along."

"Well I'm afraid we're not going to make much of a cavalry for you. I know four people against over a hundred thousand zombies don't sound like good odds, but it's still better than nothing," Jake replied.

Officer Scott nodded and made his way back towards the press room while the hired gun followed behind. Once inside he locked the door behind them and took a seat at the back of the room.

The press room was rather small for holding press conferences, most of the space taken up by the tables, chairs and camera equipment. In the northwestern corner of the room was a furnace and on the wall behind the podium were three statues of women with torches beneath them and on the wall near the entrance was a weird painting with a golden cog wheel attached to it.

At the back of the room, the officer had made a sort of 'living quarters' for himself where several empty soda cans and food wrappers lay along with some boxes of shotgun shells that had been opened. Two blankets were laid out behind an overturned table along with a pillow he had found somewhere. The man's sidearm stuck out from underneath the pillow, a technique the hitman himself practiced.

"Any idea how much longer you plan on holding up in here?" Jake asked almost grossed out by the garish dark red wallpaper.

"No idea," the officer replied rubbing his tired eyes and yawning loudly, "I thought I'd come out when somebody else showed up, or until Beck came back. I gave him a skeleton key so he could get through all the locked doors, but I haven't heard from him since before I took up residence in here. Any idea where you can find those two people you just mentioned?"

"As a matter of fact I do," Jake said pulling out the radio given to him by Leon, "Leon, Claire, do you copy?" he spoke loud and clear, "I have found another survivor in the station's press room, an Officer George Scott. Do you copy? Over."

_"Affirmative,"_ Leon spoke over his radio.

_"Got it,"_ Claire replied from her line, _"I shouldn't be too far away from you."_

"How are you two holding up?" Jake asked as his companion approached, happy to hear the voices of other survivors.

_ "Heh, as good as I can be, just a lot of those tongue freaks crawling around here still,"_ Leon replied with a slight chuckle.

_"Leon, Jake, I've found the girl and I cleared the helicopter wreckage that was blocking the corridor,"_ Claire reported, catching the assassin's attention.

_"Wait, did you just say you found a little girl?"_ Jake asked the woman.

_"Yeah, her name is Sherry."_

A little girl's voice was then heard, _"Wait a minute, is that Jake? Jake, it's me Sherry!"_ she shouted happily.

"Hey kid, how ya' doing?" he replied, his rough tone softening a little.

_"I'm doing fine. I found Claire and she's helping me out!"_ she shouted gleefully, but then the line suddenly went dead.

"Sherry, Claire, is either one of you there? Answer me!" Jake shouted into his radio. A few tense seconds of silence followed before he finally got a reply.

_"I'm here Jake;"_ Claire replied solemnly, _"Sherry just took off. We heard this loud roar and then she was talking about something out there much bigger than the zombies and then she ran away. I'm going to find her, just hang tight."_

_"I'll be on the lookout for her too,"_ Leon cut in, _"I'm just coming down from the clock tower as we speak."_

"Count me in," Jake replied and slid his radio back into his utility belt.

"That poor thing," George spoke, "all alone in this station with the living dead running about and something much worse."

A thunderous explosion obliterated a portion of the wall to their right and from the cloud of dust appeared a familiar adversary.

_"I thought right," _Jake said to himself as he stood face to face with the green-clad Tyrant returning for another round.

"What the hell is that?" George blurted out raising his shotgun next to the hitman.

"Some pissed off giant with an awfully large chip on his shoulder," Jake replied and with drew his revolver. "You take him from the left, I'll take him from the right," he whispered to the officer.

The Tyrant stared at both men and began its march, its dark green trench coat now mostly blackened and covered in bullet holes from the earlier confrontation with its human opponent. Temporarily diverted from its mission, the B.O.W. had a new objective in mind: take out the human who had eluded its grasp before.

Jake nodded to George and began firing rounds at the beast's neck and face, causing it to stumble backwards until it caught itself and stomped on the ground to create another miniature earthquake. Several ceiling tiles collapsed from above and a few of the tables and chairs slid from their former positions. Unperturbed, the giant strode forth and shattered a nearby camera to pieces with a backhand.

George pumped his shotgun and fired two blasts into the creature's barrel chest, the shells almost sinking in like they were striking a mound of clay. His last shots began to find their mark as he struck the giant in the head several times, more purple slime spilling all over as the buckshot connected.

Affected by the blasts, the brute sunk down to one knee and pounded the floor repeatedly before shaking its head violently. When it looked back to its two targets, the flow of slimy blood ceased as its wounds healed.

"Shit!" George cursed as he fished through its pockets for any additional shells he could find, struggling to reload the gun while backing up at the same time. The Tyrant was now only a few feet away from him and in a few steps would be able to swing one of its tree trunk-like arms out and probably knock his head off in the process.

"Over here fuckface!" Jake hollered spinning a fresh loader into his revolver and firing a round that caught the beast in the side of its head. The brute staggered from the blast and shifted its attention towards him. Rolling behind another nearby table, he popped up to his feet and fired two more shots into its forehead, knocking the brute backwards and splattering its blood all over the wall behind it.

George leapt over to the side of the monster and fired more rounds of buckshot into the monstrosity's tank-like surface, scoring a few bloody shots on its head and neck area to send it wobbling a little more.

"Time to go night-night you piece of shit," Jake shouted and fired what was left of his current rounds into the lumbering behemoth's visage.

Groaning like a piece of broken machinery, the wounded Tyrant teetered drunkenly before falling to the floor, causing another violent tremor that almost knocked both men from their feet and left spider webs of cracks all around its form.

"Come on, we have to find Leon and Claire!" Jake shouted ripping the door open.

"Right behind you," George called out and hopped over the fallen behemoth, only to have it shoot its right hand out and clamp down on the officer's ankle. With a squeeze of its gargantuan hand, the bio-weapon crunched the human's bones like it was crumpling a piece of paper.

"Help me!" the officer screamed as he lay writhing on the floor in pain. The Tyrant had maintained its grip while rising back to its feet and threw George against the nearest wall, knocking over more camera equipment. He had dropped his shotgun in the exchange and was buckled over by a powerful punch that shattered two of his ribs.

Jake saw the officer's predicament and launched himself through the air, delivering a powerful flying kick to the middle of the bio-weapon's back, knocking it forward a few steps.

"You were playing with me dickhead!" he shouted as he raised the magnum and began firing wildly into the monster's neck and upper back areas, spraying blood all over before his final shot found its way into the back of the Tyrant's skull.

The Tyrant offered no signs of pain and shot its arm backward, but Jake had been quicker and its fist began trapped in another hole of its own creation. With no time to reload his magnum, the hired gun withdrew his sword and with the fury of a wild animal, began hacking away at his enemy. He had attempted to decapitate the brute, but was unable to get past its other arm and had to settle for stabbing it several times from a safe distance.

Despite being seriously injured, the distraction created an opening for George and he pulled out his sidearm to fire several rounds into his attacker's neck and facial areas. All the while he crawled towards his shotgun, pulling himself along the debris-covered floor with his free hand and throwing it towards the prone firearm.

Returning its attention to the officer, the Tyrant shook its arm free and stomped its way over to the man, snatching his gun away from him and crumpling it into an indiscernible hunk of twisted metal. Reaching its other hand down, the B.O.W. grabbed George by his neck and hoisted him into the air, ready to crush his neck much like it had his ankle until another powerful round embedded itself into the side of its skull.

Stunned by the blow, the Tyrant released the injured officer and turned its rattled gaze towards the hitman, who followed up with two more shots into its thick cranium and knocked it flat onto its back.

Jake was pleased with his work, but not finished. Walking past the injured George, he fired his three remaining rounds into the brute's skull to make sure he wouldn't get up again.

"Jake…a little help here…" George called out weakly reaching for him. The officer was badly injured and would be useless in a fight. He wouldn't survive much longer without proper medical treatment.

"I'm coming," the hired gun said as he reached down to carefully lift the officer into a standing position, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and using his shotgun as a crutch in the other to avoid placing pressure on his shattered ankle.

"We've gotta get you far away from here," Jake said looking back to the fallen giant not wanting to take any more chances, _"Next time he might be snapping somebody's neck if they get too close."_

He led the injured man through the opened door and back into the corridor, leading him around the corner only to be met by another gun to their faces.

Standing before them was a beautiful woman of Asian-American descent and when Jake noticed her red cocktail dress he instantly recognized her.

_"That woman from the hall, the one who was checking out Sherry," _he told himself as he stared deep into her dark eyes, unafraid of the Browning HP trained on his chest.

"Sorry about that," she spoke in her low cat-like purr, "When I heard the footsteps I didn't want to take any chances."

"Yeah, yeah look we're kind of in a hurry right now so can you please lower the gun?" Jake replied gesturing to the injured man he held, who managed a weak smile towards the woman.

"What's the big hurry?" she asked nonchalantly, placing a hand on her hip and tapping her pistol lightly against the other, "Aren't we going to get acquainted?" adopting a sexier tone like she was trying to seduce both of them.

The hired gun grunted in frustration, "Fine, if you insist, I'm Jake and he's George. Not to sound like a dick or anything lady, but there's a sleeping giant in the other room who's likely to be very pissed off when he wakes up and we want to be as far away as possible after seeing what he did to my companion here," he spoke in an urgent tone.

"Fine, I'm Ada," the woman answered, "probably just another nameless face to you who should've been out of here a long time ago, but we'll get to that later if you insist."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So you came all the way into this mess just to look for your boyfriend, huh?" Jake asked reclining against a desk with his muscular arms crossed in front of him.

Ada knelt down in front of a small sofa where George was laid out with his ankle heavily bandaged and surrounded by a large bag of ice. She was just in the middle of finishing a bandage wrapped around the officer's ribs when she turned to reply.

"Yes, his name is John Fay and he's a researcher with the Raccoon division of Umbrella," she spoke looking directly into his eyes.

He assumed the man must have known William Birkin, but decided against inquiring further with a cop present. Being only a researcher's girlfriend, there were probably things even she didn't know about the man that he was probably forbidden to tell her about.

"Okay," she said standing up from the fallen officer, "I gave him some morphine. He'll probably be out of it for a while, but at least he shouldn't be feeling any pain. I doubt there will be anybody coming through to rescue him though."

"No doubt," Jake said standing up, "I encountered a few others who should be on their way any minute now," he said as he walked over and peeked through the blinds for any threats.

"Well we can't afford to just sit around here and wait," she replied walking over to him before looking over her shoulder towards George, "And we won't be able to bring him along either. He'll only slow us down-"

Before she could continue, Jake clamped his gloved hand over her mouth and raised a finger to his lips motioning for her to quiet down.

"Shhh, can you hear that?" he asked leaning further towards the window.

The woman followed suit and listened for the thunderous footfalls that could only belong to the Tyrant. The only problem was that they could not determine exactly where they were coming from. George seemed to hear the footsteps and was stirred awake at the booming noises.

Jake again withdrew his S&W and Ada readied her Browning, she then looked back to George's Remington and kept a close eye on it. The duo continued listening in when the footsteps suddenly ceased.

"They stopped?" Ada asked slightly lowering her gun and looking to Jake, who kept his back to her.

He strained his ears for the source, sensing as if they were coming from above.

"We're not out of the woods yet."

The ceiling suddenly collapsed and the Tyrant came crashing down, leaving another crater in the floor where it landed and overturning the couch George rested on. Rising to its feet the giant stared both of them down before suddenly turning its attention to George and lifting him off the floor by the neck again. With a sickening snap, George Scott was no more and his limp body was tossed aside like a broken toy.

There was no time to mourn the fallen officer's loss as Jake nodded to Ada and the two proceeded to open fire on the giant. Ada's bullets only seemed to mildly annoy the brute like they were mosquito bites, but the rounds from the hired gun's superior revolver had greater impact and forced the beast to stagger back several steps before it collapsed onto the desk holding George's shotgun and crushed it to pieces.

"Quick, get to the hall now!" Jake ordered as he ejected his spent rounds and slid a new speed loader into the gun's chamber with one fluid motion. Ada fired what was left of her current clip and exited through the double doors behind them.

The hired gun waited for the woman and unclipped one of his fragmentation grenades, "Fire in the hole!"

The pursuing Tyrant punched the double doors open and continued its hunt. Pulling the pin out of the grenade, Jake rolled the explosive towards the brute and threw himself around a corner. A loud boom followed seconds later and he peeked around the corner to find the beast knocked down, but not out cold. He quickly ran back to the hall he had come from to find Ada waiting for him.

"Did you kill it?" she asked clutching her gun tightly.

"No," Jake replied shaking his head, "but you'd better be ready because it's still pretty pissed off," he said training his gun on the door.

With a yank, the Tyrant appeared, ripping the door from its hinges and tossing it aside as its massive form broke away fractions of the surrounding doorframe.

Cocking the might S&W, Jake fired away at the approaching behemoth and Ada stood alongside him firing into the relentless stalker. It was important for him to keep his cool, but the creature's endurance was starting to get to him.

_"Even 'One Eye' wasn't this bad," _he told himself, _"This isn't going to make me crack though. I am the master and I am in full control of my emotions."_

"Come on," he spoke in his coolest tone, giving away no hint of fear whatsoever. He fired away with the will of a man possessed, everything blurring around him as he focused on gunning down his attacker and sending him to a cold grave.

Ada Wong stood alongside the hitman firing away at the creature's thick skull. She was low on ammo and would soon be forced to retreat.

_"I've got plenty more traveling ahead of me. This Jake fellow seems like a tough guy. He should be perfectly capable of handling himself," _she thought to herself as she ejected her penultimate clip and looked around the corridor, spotting a ventilation duct that looked big enough for her to fit through.

Jake fired the last round of his current speed loader and reached into his side pack for another, "Ada how are you holding up for ammo?"

No answer.

"Ada?" he asked again and turned to find the woman nowhere in sight. An opened ventilation duct confirmed her whereabouts, one that would be too small for him to fit through.

"Damn…," he cursed under his breath, _"Who the fuck does that woman think she is to just up and leave me hanging like this?" _he asked himself as he turned to find the giant almost on top of him.

Drawing its fist back, the Tyrant prepared for another powerful punch directed at the hired gun's face and picked up speed as it charged. Jake dodged the blow with another perfectly timed sidestep and the brute drove its fist into the interrogation room's steel door, leaving a large circular dent where it connected.

Jake stood off to the side ready to fire more rounds into the creature's expressionless face when he heard a loud plunking noise followed by the burning hiss of acid striking his assailant's back.

Claire Redfield stood behind the two combatants winking to the assassin and fired another acid round, striking the B.O.W. in the chest.

"Figured you'd need some help," she spoke loading another acid round into her grenade launcher.

Jake resumed his attack, again taking aim at the Tyrant's head while the young woman kept the beast distracted with her damaging acid rounds.

Although it made no sounds, the behemoth's hasty movements told them it was infuriated and would do anything to kill its prey. It began flailing its arms wildly in thin air in hopes of landing a blow, but it was quickly blinded by the acid and powerful magnum rounds being fired in its direction.

Jake continued firing away until his magnum again clicked empty and then he looked down to the two remaining fragmentation grenades and back to the wobbling giant.

"Claire, get out of here now!" he shouted ripping another grenade from his belt and bolting towards the woman, grabbing her by the arm and pushing her towards the nearest exit. Looking over his shoulder he pulled the pin and tossed the grenade to the feet of his adversary.

The two survivors continued running long after the blast until they found themselves back in the main hall where they buckled over panting heavily.

"I see you've encountered that baldheaded freak too," Claire gasped bracing herself on a nearby banister.

"You mean you've seen this thing already?" Jake asked leaning against the wall near a window and taking a peek to see if anyone or anything was outside.

"Yeah, right after I put out the 'copter fire on the rooftop I saw some weird unmarked helicopter flying overhead and it dropped this large canister," the young woman spoke making hand gestures to emphasize the width of the object. "I didn't want to find out what it was, so I went back inside hoping I could avoid it, but before you know it, that same brute came crashing through the ceiling and tried to kill me."

"Damn, guess I'm not alone then," Jake sarcastically muttered as he stepped back from the window and turned to face her again, "Did you find anything else? You already said you found Sherry."

"Yeah, I found her hiding in the back room of Chief Iron's personal storage closet," Claire reported as she loaded fresh acid rounds into her grenade launcher.

"Irons," Jake grunted, punching his right fist into his opened left palm, "That fat, slimy bastard…" he snarled with great distaste remembering how the Chief had attempted to kill him and then left him to the mercy of the nameless giant.

"I met him too," Claire added, a look of disgusted horror crossing her delicate features, "He was in his office and he had the mayor's daughter laid out on his desk ready to do God knows what. I swear that creep is out of this world and I wasn't sticking around much longer to find out what else he had in mind."

"You're right, that fat piece of shit is out of his mind," Jake growled slapping a new speed loader into his magnum, "That fat bastard was hunting down his own men and then he tried to shoot me dead. I had his bloated ass cornered and was about to put him out of his misery when our gigantic friend in the trench coat decided to crash the party."

"Oh dear God, Sherry…" Claire gasped placing a gloved hand to her mouth, "I'm going to have to find her before that creep can get his hands on her!" The woman looked closely at Jake again, "You said you knew her right? She recognized your voice when you came on."

"Yeah, I was talking to her before you came along," Jake said now checking over his M4A1, "I saved her from one of those undead mutts. I'd say I've won her trust enough by now."

"We have to find her before anything can happen," Claire spoke with greater urgency, "I'm going to search the west wing for her. If you find anything please let me know immediately!"

"You got it!" Jake replied with a thumbs up and waited for her to disappear through the set of double doors leading to the waiting room before he turned on his heel and made his way back to the east wing.

With his M4A1 in hand, he reached into his pocket with the other and pulled out the heart-shaped key he found in the west wing office.

_"Now let's see if I can find anything in those rooms I haven't touched yet down in the basement."_

Author's Note: Well that's it and so far the score is "Jake – 1, Mr. X – 0," unless you count the number of times Mr. X was knocked down in this chapter. I changed the chapter's title because by this point Jake wouldn't know that this particular Tyrant is called "Mr. X," besides "Wrath of the Tyrant" sounded cooler anyway.

Well that's enough babbling on my end so until next time read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	33. Ch 32: Impending Doom

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 32: Impending Doom

With a single round to the skull, the last zombie fell to the tiled floor never to rise again.

Jake listened for any more dragging footsteps before he dared to lower his Beretta. He was now alone in the men's locker room, its five previous inhabitants lying broken in pools of their own infected blood.

It had just been the latest stop on the hitman's venture through the basement corridor. He had already explored the women's locker room and shooting range, getting attacked by more zombies and infected canines in each. Along the way he had found more bullets for his Berettas in both locations, as well as some napalm rounds for his attached grenade launcher. In addition, he found some cases full of shotgun shells and clips of DOT 50 A.E. rounds compatible with a Desert Eagle. He would leave both for Leon in case he was to explore those spaces.

Taking another deep breath, Jake reentered the damp, darkened corridor with his gun raised.

Most of the vast space had been congested by chewed up corpses, likely those belonging to the civilians who had tried escaping through the sewers and the officers who had gone down trying to defend them. There were also several more infected canines present that had been feasting on the bodies when he first arrived, now lying dead alongside their former meals.

It was a sickening sight for the hired gun. He had always held a soft spot for dogs of all kinds, valuing the kind of friendship and unconditional love they were capable of providing that most other humans would not. The past few days had seen him kill quite a few of the infected dogs and the cruelty which had transformed these once innocent companions got under his skin.

Doing what he could to shut out the rancid aroma drifting through the air, he inched his way towards the next available location, a set of red double doors labeled 'GENERATOR ROOM.'

He took wide steps as he maneuvered around the corpses, wanting to be ready in case any of them would rise up to attack him. It wasn't long before he reached a clear space where he could hug his back to the wall and inch closer towards the doors until he was gripping one of the handles and flinging himself inside, only to be met by another shotgun being jammed into his face.

"What the…oh Jake it's you!" the youthful voice of Leon Kennedy called out.

Jake turned to see the rookie officer lowering his shotgun. The younger man's outfit now had a few bloodstains on it and his clean-shaven face was drenched in sweat, but otherwise he looked fine and happy to see one of his fellow survivors.

"Yeah, better me than one of those zombies," he replied trying to lighten the mood a little and then looked back to a control panel with some glowing red lights. "Were you in the middle of something?"

Leon knew what he was talking about and looked back to the panel, "Oh yeah, I was in the middle of trying to restore power to the armory's card reader."

The cop made his way back towards the panel motioning for the hitman to follow. "We need a special cardkey to access the armory. Unfortunately I haven't been able to find it anywhere around here. The morgue is locked and all I saw was some club-shaped engraving over the lock, so that's a no-go right now. Besides, I highly doubt I'd wanna set foot in one after what I've been seeing around this place. This whole building is a morgue as is," he said motioning to the space around them.

"Ha, I heard that," Jake snorted and stood back as he watched the officer flip a couple of switches and the line move back and forth on the meter, "Any idea what's up then if our possible goldmine is off limits?"

A loud beeping noise signaled that the officer had solved the puzzle, "Got it!" Leon then turned to the taller man, "I say we search the parking garage. I haven't been there yet."

"You really should search some of the other rooms down here while you're at it. I found some cases of shotgun shells and some magnum ammo. Only problem is you don't have a magnum right now and my gun isn't compatible," Jake said patting the shoulder holster where his powerful revolver was held. "It looks like they go with a Desert Eagle. Hopefully you'll find one around here somewhere."

"Yeah," the officer replied looking down to his shotgun, "This bad boy has become a close friend of mind during this nightmare, but it never hurts to have the extra firepower."

The two men exited the generator room and Jake waited as Leon made a mad dash through both locker rooms and the shooting range to gather the ammo his companion had mentioned before the duo made their way to the parking garage.

Aside from the dead bodies littering the pavement, the car park was empty. Moans from outside filtered through the steel mesh gates, causing the rookie cop to look around nervously.

"I don't see anything, come on!" Jake hissed and ran towards the end of the room, where a S.W.A.T. paddy wagon had been parked in front of another door and needed to be moved. The rookie cop followed closely behind until a warning shot brought both men to a halt.

"Huh?"

They turned around to find Ada Wong brandishing her Browning HP and lowering it upon viewing the two men.

"Sorry about that. When I saw the uniform I thought you were another zombie," she spoke in her distinctive nonchalant purr towards Leon. Her demeanor chilled when she spotted Jake, "Oh Jake, I didn't know you were with him!"

The hitman's eyes narrowed upon spotting the red-clad woman, indicating his displeasure at being abandoned in the heat of battle.

"Wait a minute!" the cop cried looking back and forth anxiously between Jake and the woman, "Who are you?"

"Ada Wong," she spoke walking towards them.

"And what are you doing here?" the cop asked as she brushed past him.

"Yeah, you were supposed to be watching my back against that Frankenstein-wannabe back there and then you suddenly vanished into thin air. What the hell is up with that?" Jake demanded crossing his arms across his well-defined chest.

"I'm sorry about that, but I was running low on ammo and knew I wouldn't have been of much help had I stuck around," she calmly explained before turning her attention back to Leon, "I'm looking for some guy named Ben. He's one of those reporter types; always looking for a scoop. I heard he was locked up in the cell block, only there's this van barring the entrance. I've been trying to find another way inside."

"Must be a pretty damned important scoop for you to run off on me like that," Jake spat walking behind the woman as she approached the transport truck.

"We'll worry about that later, now do you care to give a lady a hand? This truck won't move itself," Ada asked fluttering her eyes at him as she took a position behind it.

"Why not?" Jake sarcastically asked looking back to Leon, who took a position to his right while the taller, well-built criminal stood in the middle. With all the strength they could muster, the trio pushed the truck forward until it would go no further and by then they had moved it far enough. Without a word, Ada pulled the door open and took off down the dark hall.

"Ada wait!" Leon cried and then looked back to Jake. The rookie cop pulled out his receiver and pushed the talk button, "Do you read me Claire? I'm with Jake and we now have access to the back of the parking lot."

"Got it. I'm on my way," she replied and then hung up.

"Well what are we waiting for?" Jake asked and started after Ada. The duo ran down the short hallway before they reached the chain-link gate leading to the cell block area.

Ignoring the dead zombie laying on the floor, both men searched the cells before happening upon the last one on the left and noticed a figure lying on the cot.

"Think that's him?" Jake asked.

"Let me guess, you must be Ben right?" Leon called out and started rapping on the bars, "Get up, now!"

The figure stirred awake and slowly sat up rubbing his eyes. "What do you want? I'm trying to sleep here!" the man rudely snapped and walked towards the gate. The man was in his late twenties and almost looked like your typical white collar worker with his white dress shirt, burgundy tie and brown pinstripe slacks. His dark auburn hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and he carried an air of great distaste at being disturbed by two random strangers, even if they were still alive.

The screeching metal of the cell block's gate opening from behind was heard and the trio looked over to find Ada running towards them.

"Is this the guy?" Leon asked.

The mysterious woman ignored him and started in on the reporter, "Ben? You told the city officials that you knew something about what's been going on, didn't you? What did you tell them?"

"And who the heck are you?" Ben scowled at the new face.

"Just listen to me for a minute," the woman begged, "I'm trying to find my boyfriend. His name's John Fay and he was working for a branch office of Umbrella based in Chicago, but he suddenly disappeared six months ago. I heard a rumor that he's here in the city."

"I don't know anything," the man rudely rebutted turning his back on the three strangers, "and even if I did, why would I want to tell you?"

"Asshole," Jake muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Ben shot back and turned around taking a step towards the door, "Don't think I'm going to give out information to some lowly street thug either," he spoke defiantly crossing his arms.

Jake grunted and stepped up to the bars, "I'd watch myself if I were you pal. Don't think these bars can protect you from everything. Believe me; I wouldn't hesitate to beat any information out of you if I have to!"

"No, you wouldn't!" Ben proclaimed, "There is a cop with you and I'm sure you'd be in for some major trouble if you were to assault a member of the press in his very presence."

_"That's right News Boy, you're going to act all big and tough when you've got a set of bars in front of you," _he thought to himself as he looked back to Leon, who shared his look of disgust. He then turned back to Ben, "Being the ill-tempered asshole that you've been to us so far, I highly doubt my friend in blue would care very much," Jake added, shaking the bars to prove he wasn't bluffing. Before he could do any more, he was held back by Ada.

"Okay, I say we leave him in there. Does anyone know where they put the key to this cell?" Leon asked looking down to the other officer's corpse.

"I have it right here officer," the reporter replied pulling the set of keys from his pocket, "I took it from the prison guard, but I'm not about to leave this cell. Those zombies aren't the only things crawling around out there. There's something else out there, something big."

An ear-splitting roar sounded through the lower levels, rocking the building's foundation and making the three survivors jump about looking for the source of the noise while Ben leaned against a wall looking at the floor.

"What was that?" Leon called out gripping his shotgun and training it towards the block entrance.

"Like I said, I'm not leaving this cell. Get out of here before you lead it right to me!" Ben ordered crossing his arms again.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm the only cop left alive in this building!" Leon retorted.

"What?" Ben asked, his tone changing and his eyebrows rising.

"Look, if you want to live, then you're gonna have to leave with us," Leon explained motioning to Jake and Ada.

"But…do you even know how to get out of the city? There's a kennel in the back of the building. Inside is a manhole, go through it and it will lead you to the sewer entrance, but it won't be easy." Ben stared at the survivors for a few seconds and then sat down on his cot.

"Alright, I'm going," Ada shouted and then stormed off.

"Ada, wait!" Leon called out and then looked back to Jake, "Come on, we have to follow her!"

The two men made their way back into the hall and quickly happened across the kennel and entered to find a few of the infected German Shepherds lying dead after taking pot shots to the head and a short, hefty man in a blue uniform who had been their meal, but no Ada in sight.

"That must be the manhole he was talking about," Jake said motioning to the rusty lid and nudging the man's corpse aside. Looking over to where a cluster of dog foot bags were kept, Leon found a manhole opener and with a few yanks managed to pry the cover off.

"Damn and I thought those zombies smelled bad," Leon said jumping back and crinkling his nose at the vile odor, trying to wave the scent away from him.

"Bitch about that later, come on," Jake replied as he descended the ladder and hit the shin deep water below. Switching on his rifle's flashlight attachment, he made his move the second Leon's feet touched the water and continued moving until he brought his hand up.

"I hear something else," he whispered to the cop and strained his ears to what it was. A strange hissing noise followed by the movement of several pairs of feet sounded along the walls, a sound he was now familiar with from his time in the city library and felt himself paling.

"What is it?" Leon asked and remained on alert until the figure sped into view, "Oh shit, a spider!" he cried, brushing past the hitman and firing several barrages of buckshot at the approaching mutant arachnid, managing to break off a few of its appendages.

The oversized spider hissed in annoyance and Jake watched as it opened its 'mouth.' Knowing something was about to happen, he grabbed the cop and pulled him into a nearby alcove, a cloud of poisonous mist colliding with the water and evaporating upon contact.

"C'mon, we've gotta kill that damn spider!" Leon blurted out and continued firing wildly at the mutant, only managing to take out chunks of its skin before Jake stepped in and fired a napalm round, causing the beast to thrash about as it was burnt alive and finally succumbed to the flames.

"Oh shit, there's another one!" the cop shouted as a second spider rounded the corner and charged head on at the two men. The rookie cop again fired wildly, this time managing to strike a few critical hits before his shotgun emptied. Dropping his shotgun, he withdrew his VP-70 and fired into the beast's face until that gun too emptied, but by then the arachnid's twitching had ceased.

Jake watched as the officer fell back against the wall huffing and puffing, muttering curses to himself at a manic pace.

"I see you don't like spiders either, huh?" he asked walking up to the rookie.

"No…I fucking hate them!" Leon gasped trying to look away from the mangled remains, "I got bitten by one when I was a kid and nearly died from it!"

Jake looked down to the blasted apart spiders and shrugged, "Ugly pieces of shit."

"Yeah, you would be scared half to death if you were allergic to them too," Leon replied as he scooped up his shotgun and bolted up a nearby flight of stairs.

Jake followed suit and they made their way into a dingy hallway where they found Ada Wong waiting outside a cesspool room almost like she had been expecting the two.

"At last you finally decide to show up," she smirked with her gun tapping against her hip.

The hitman growled in frustration before speaking, "You keep pulling shit like this then so help me I will break both your legs if I have to!"

Ada said nothing in reply, only looking him up and down, trying to gauge whether or not he would actually follow through with his threat.

Leon could sense the tension and figured he had better step in to diffuse the situation, "Ada, I'm sorry I didn't get to introduce myself earlier. My name is Leon Kennedy and I'm assuming judging from back in the garage that you already know Jake. I'm a cop with the R.P.D. and it is my responsibility to protect both of you so you can't just run off like that. Do I make myself clear?" the officer firmly explained as if he was correcting a small child.

"I'm terribly sorry, please forgive me," she spoke in a practiced tone that sounded a little too odd to the hired gun and he watched as they approached a dead end where a shutter had been lowered and an opened ventilation duct stood above them.

"You think we can get upstairs through this shaft? Give me a boost, I'll go and check," the woman looked to both men and Leon nodded to her getting down on his knees. She then looked back to Jake, who stood silent giving her a filthy look, "Well?"

Snorting in reply, the hitman reluctantly approached the woman and helped her onto the cop's back and stood behind them ready to catch her if anything went wrong as the cop rose to his feet pushing her up.

He stood silent next to the cop and listened for the sound of a door slamming shut. When he was sure the woman was out of earshot he spoke, "You saw how she just appeared out of nowhere like that, doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

"Kind of," Leon replied rubbing the back of his neck, "There was that lid and then those giant spiders," he added, wincing at the mention of the mutated arachnids before continuing, "Wonder how she could've gotten down here so fast."

"That's what I was thinking. It's awful funny how she was standing outside that room over there and her reaction when we both got here. It was almost like she was expecting us and needed something else besides searching for what's on the other side of that shutter," Jake said as he raised his rifle and made his way towards the cesspool entrance, "I don't know about you, but I've got an odd feeling about what could have gone on in there. I'm going to check it out."

"I'll lead the way," Leon said stepping in front of Jake, his training kicking in and doing whatever he could to protect the civilian he was paired with.

The two men entered what appeared to be an ordinary septic treatment facility where waste disposal took place and everything seemed normal except for the door at the back of the room.

"That's odd," the police officer said as he walked over to the panel next to the backdoor, "It looks like a chessboard."

Jake approached the panel and examined it himself. He noticed the black and white squares that looked like plugs could be inserted into them. Just the mention of a chessboard made him think of that obscure line from the note he found in the apartment.

_"You'll get there much faster if you play the board right, checkmate."_

"Chess pieces…" he muttered aloud, "…it all makes sense now. It's supposed to be a chessboard and maybe the key to opening it is something resembling a chess piece."

"Could this mean something then?" Leon asked as he reached into his pocket and produced a White Bishop chess piece with a tip meant to be plugged in. "I found this behind some plate after I completed this weird puzzle in the library. Maybe that's what this piece is for."

He slid the plug into place and sure enough the adjoining black space lit up.

"There's still three of those spaces left, that means there are three more littered somewhere around the station. Whatever is going on, we'll have to find the others. That means we'll probably have to split up again," Jake explained.

"Right, but first we should probably stop by the armory and stock up," Leon added making his way towards the entrance.

"Yeah, but you said you couldn't find the keycard anywhere else and the only place you haven't searched is the morgue," Jake called out, stopping the rookie dead in his tracks.

"Damn…" the cop shuddered, "…the absolute last place I'd want to be."

"We don't have another choice," Jake spoke up, "It's either that or run out of ammo. Without that, we won't be living to see another sunrise."

"Well we're gonna have to make it quick," Leon replied as he stepped back into the hall and approached the shutter, "We need to wait for Ada and see if she's found anything of use." He reclined against the nearby wall and they waited for several uneventful minutes before they heard the slam of a door from the other side.

"Jake! Leon!" Ada called out.

"Ada! Did you find anything?" Leon shouted back shifting his gaze between Jake and the opened vent.

"Hold on, I found something that might help you get around more easily," she called out and a small key was flung through the vent landing at the officer's feet. Like the key given to him by Sherry and the other he had found in the west wing office, Jake noticed how it had an end shaped like a playing card symbol, in this case a bright green club. "Heads up, I found something else too!" she shouted and tossed a case of shotgun shells through the vent.

"Okay thanks, now we have to find another way for you to get back here…" Leon called out, but was cut off by the woman again.

"No, that shaft is too high up! I'll have to find another way!" she shouted and was followed by the door slamming shut again.

"Ada!" Leon called out and angrily kicked the shutter, "Damn, she ran off again!"

"We'll have to worry about her later. Right now, let's get to the autopsy room so we can find that keycard!" Jake spoke turning on his heel and making his way back through the sewers.

The two men made an uninterrupted return to the basement corridor where they now stood outside the foreboding autopsy room. Leon held the club key in front of him and looked over to Jake, who offered an uneasy nod. "I'll look for the cardkey, you stand guard."

"Right," the hitman replied. He could sense the uneasiness within his companion and saw he was already struggling to hold himself together, which could be a potential danger to both of them. It would have been a safer alternative to send the more levelheaded man in first, but he knew Leon's training wouldn't permit that.

_"He's one of those idealistic rookie types, thinks he has to do everything he can to keep a civilian out of harm's way," _Jake thought as Leon slowly turned the key and carefully pushed the double doors open.

They did what they could to ignore the overpowering stench of embalming fluids mixed with decay as they entered the dimly-lit morgue, a majority of the illumination coming from Jake's flashlight attachment. Right away they happened across a body lying facedown on the ground and upon closer inspection there were four more bodies present. There was also another lying on a stretcher, having been in the middle of receiving an autopsy when things went to hell.

"Fuck," Leon muttered as he stared at the dissected body while Jake's remained on the four lying beneath them, the obvious aftermath of another small battle that had taken place.

The hitman kept a close eye on the bodies and when none of them moved he nodded back to Leon, who then made his way around the stretchers taking care to avoid contact with the cadavers. His destination was a solitary white cabinet along adjoining the drawers containing the bodies. Eventually he reached the cabinet and looked back to his companion, who nodded back to him before he opened the doors, sifting through numerous different types of embalming fluids and tools before a bone-jarring clang shook both men and caused Jake to nearly fire his weapon.

Whirling around with his gun trained, he looked down to find one of the covers had fallen to the ground. He choked out a sigh of relief before forcing himself to kneel and search through a lower drawer before finding a red and white keycard.

"Jake, I found-"

Before the rookie officer could reveal his discovery, the moans of the dead filled the air and he turned to find the zombies that had been lying lifeless on the floor rising to their feet, as well as an extra falling out of an opened drawer behind him. He was cornered near the cabinet.

_"I should have known," _Jake told himself as he backed towards the double doors to create some space between the zombies. He raised his rifle and made quick work of the undead human closest to him before jamming his muzzle into the mouth of another and squeezing the trigger, sending a bloody mist flying into the face of the carrier behind before that one too would fall before a barrage to its caving visage.

The booms of Leon's shotgun sounded in the distance and he dropped the viral carrier that had him cornered with a point blank blast and nailing another in the chest before scoring a shot that obliterated its skull.

He then looked over to the corpse still lying on the stretcher. It didn't appear to be harmless, but he added a round of buckshot to its skull for a safe measure.

"You were right," Jake grunted, "a morgue is definitely NOT the kind of place to be in this kind of situation." He then noticed the keycard Leon held in his hand, "Looks like my intuition was right though."

"Yeah, now let's get the hell outta here," Leon said taking one last look at the corpses before bolting out the doors.

The armory was just a few feet down the hall and the officer eagerly ran towards it and slid the card through the panel's slot, the accompanying beep bringing a satisfied grin to his youthful features.

By now the station's arsenal had mostly been cleared out, but the survivors managed to find five boxes of 9x19 parabellum rounds. Jake was doing pretty well on his Beretta ammo and only took one box, while Leon took two and the others would be left for Claire if she happened across the room. There was also a case of shotgun shells left behind he had taken. There were also a few containers of explosive rounds compatible with Jake's grenade launcher and he took one of them while deciding he would leave the others for Claire.

At the back of the room were several tall lockers which held nothing of importance until they opened the third locker. Inside were a MAC 11 submachine gun and a side pack that would have allowed them to carry more items. Once again Jake found himself doing pretty well in terms of ammo and storage so it was decided Leon would take the submachine gun as his uniform provided plenty of compartments for holding ammo. Again the side pack would be left for Claire if she were to happen by.

"Alright, we should split up now and look for those three remaining pieces," Jake suggested as they prepared to exit the room.

"Right, you can search the east wing and I'll search the west wing," the officer ordered checking over his newly-acquired submachine gun. "If we're lucky, we'll either happen across Claire, Sherry or any other survivors who might still be trapped inside. That door might be our only way out of here and we'll need to bring whoever we can along for the ride."

"Okay, I'll radio you the second I find anything," Jake nodded and made his way back into the dark corridor.

Jake Cavanaugh had been given yet another side objective in his primary mission of eliminating William Birkin, for once a distraction that had some relevance as it meant access to the possible sewer laboratory Sebastian mentioned in his diary and one step closer to his target. Three chess pieces needed to be found, a daunting task in a building the size of the R.P.D.

_"I'll do what I have to, even if it means going through more of those goddamned spiders," _he told himself.

There were many factors that spelled impending doom as the quest progressed.

_"That shit that Ben mentioned," _he thought, the venomous reporter's words echoing through his head, about how a trip through the sewers would not be easy. Just the mere presence of those spiders sent a chill down his spine.

Those zombies springing to life in the morgue also spoke volumes to him. He knew the dying was far from over, a good chance somebody he knew would not make it out of here alive.

_"It won't be me," _he declared, looking down to the weapons he carried, knowing he would likely expend every bullet he carried to make his way out of this shithole alive. _"I can't shake this feeling that somebody is going to die soon…Leon, Claire, Sherry…even that shady bitch Ada or that tough-talking dipshit Ben…I don't know who it's going to be, but the feeling is there. Whatever the case, I will fight to help anybody I can escape."_

Author's Note: Another quickie is squeaked out for the masses, don't know if I'd really call it a "quickie" per se given that I've had other things distracting me from getting it out right away despite the available material I had from the original story, but still getting it out nonetheless.

I really don't know what else to say except to read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	34. Ch 33: A Royal Pain

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 33: A Royal Pain

The halls were eerily quiet as Jake entered with his M4A1 at the ready. He was well aware of being near the site of his previous battle with that new Tyrant and wanted to be ready for action in case the behemoth was still nearby.

Approaching the boarded-up hallway containing the office where he had first encountered the B.O.W., he recalled never having the chance to investigate the interrogation room as he had been distracted by Chief Irons' gunshots. There was nothing else to distract him and he saw an opportunity, hopeful he could find something new.

Easing the dented door open, the hired gun found himself in a plain white room with a table, chairs and a two-way mirror on the side wall, almost identical to every other he had ever visited with the numerous police stations he had been hauled to throughout his short life. Very rarely did any of his sessions end without violence as overzealous officers would try beating information out of him, or say something that would set him off, leaving him leaping across the table attempting to strangle the pig in a fit of rage. No matter what they tried, they could never break him.

_"Guess that's just another trait bred into the Cavanaugh bloodline," _he thought as he entered a room devoid of life.

There was a shelf in the back corner and on it rested another one of those chess pieces for that special lock, this one in the shape of a Rook.

He smiled to himself as he made his way over and examined the piece before slipping it into his side pack.

"One down," Jake whispered looking over to the table to find another can of first-aid spray resting in plain sight. He winced in embarrassment; having been so distracted by the chess piece he had overlooked another welcome sight in this nightmare.

_"What the hell am I doing? Not like there was anybody here to see that," _he reminded himself, thankful to be alone for once. Walking over to the table he eagerly scooped up the first-aid spray and was about to slip it into his side pack when the two-way mirror exploded from behind him.

Another Licker had thrown itself into the hitman's path, hissing in violent anticipation before shooting out its tongue.

Jake was barely able to dodge the attempted strike, feeling the creature's steamy breath wash over him as the lance-like tongue whiffed past his ear and shot a hole into the nearby wall. The hitman attempted to raise his assault rifle, but the skinless beast had already leapt onto the table, which splintered beneath its weight and left it falling to the floor, thrashing about as it struggled back to its feet.

It was a distraction that had proven to be a godsend for Jake as it left an opening for him to fire a volley of hot lead into the mutant's sinewy surface, his bullets stitching an upward trail to its head for the fatal round.

"Damn it," he spat collapsing against a nearby wall and spitting out a slew of heavy breaths as he struggled to steady his pulse. It was a process that had left him standing in place for only a few minutes, but felt like more than an hour. When things finally calmed he carefully reached down for the first-aid spray and made his way back into the hall and looked around to make sure the coast was clear before pulling out his radio.

"Leon, are you there? I've found one of the chess pieces. How are you holding up out there?"

The other end of the line buzzed with static before the rattle of submachine gun fire sounded, followed by more dying moans. A second later panting was heard, _"Yeah…I'm here,"_ Leon gasped, _"I just had to deal with a few more of our rotting friends. I'm in the west wing right now about to make my way upstairs. I found this golden cog wheel in the press room and I'm gonna try it up in the clock tower. I've solved a few other puzzles around this madhouse, so I'm guessing this must be part of another."_

"I wouldn't doubt it," Jake replied, "but I'll meet up with you later. I'm going to search the upstairs east wing area 'cause I haven't been there yet. I'll let you know if I find anything," he said before lowering his radio.

The hired gun traversed back through the corpse-ridden hallway past the cafeteria and then back to the main hall, where the second floor mezzanine's emergency ladder had been lowered. Ascending the ladder, he found more prostrate cadavers scattered about, most of them dispatched with clean headshots, victims of Leon and Claire no doubt. The only door leading into the second floor east wing was at the very end of the balcony, the waiting room where they had taken Sebastian Ramsey to die.

Entering with his gun drawn, Jake entered another cramped room where practically every available inch of the floor had been covered with the bodies of former Raccoon City residents. Most of these corpses had been charred beyond recognition, one of them still smoldering near the receptionist's workstation, albeit a few miniscule flames still crackling on tattered remnants of its clothing that would soon burn themselves out.

Judging by the amount of mayhem, somebody had used a grenade launcher and the only person who came to mind was Claire.

His gaze eventually led him over to the bench where the dying Sebastian had been left, only to find it mostly spattered with dried blood and a few leathery strips that may have once been the deceased researcher's flesh.

_"A miserable fate for anybody," _Jake thought with a shudder, reminded of how an actual burial would have been a luxury at a time like this. He tried to put such ideas to the back of his mind as he spotted another iron storage chest in a corner and began digging through in search of anything for good use.

Sifting through the contents, he found an empty lighter, some rope, a valve handle and some other miscellaneous items, but no chess plug. Pushing aside a few small boxes, he did however find a blood red jewel about the size of a fist, looking exactly like what that war god statue in the upstairs corridor had been holding. What it was doing in here he had no idea.

_"It must mean something after what Leon mentioned about all those puzzles," _he thought as he slipped the jewel into his side pack, barely able to squeeze it in.

Jake stepped around the charred corpses and made his way into the narrow hallway he recognized from his attempted escape from a few nights ago, suppressing a gag as he took in the combined stench of burnt wood and flesh, finding more zombie and Licker corpses splayed about.

The young hitman cried out suddenly as a burnt skinless hand clamped down onto his ankle. He looked down to find one of the charred zombies lying near him wasn't as dead as thought to be and was drawing its blackened teeth towards his calf.

"Not tonight, not ever bitch!" Jake growled shaking his foot away and bringing it down onto the cadaver's skull, adding another stomp to make sure it was crushed into jam before he continued forth.

_"This really isn't funny anymore," _he thought as he rounded a corner, where he found the wreckage of a police helicopter that had been partially blown away, exposing a narrow hall that led to another door. According to Claire, he wasn't too far away from the Chief's office and knew he would have another threat to deal with if the man was still alive, but for now decided to focus on the door to his right.

_"That fat pig might think he's a crafty son of a bitch, but I doubt even his lard ass would survive this long, especially with those Licker freaks probably slithering through the vents," _he told himself as he opened the door.

It was another storage room, filled with dusty old trinkets covered by soiled linens, lit only by a few small bulbs and the light of the moon shining through a skylight above. At the front of the room was a large warrior statue flanked by two smaller virgin busts, one of which had a red jewel embedded in its chest similar to the one found in the storage box.

"So that's what this is for," he said pulling the matching jewel from his side pack and walking over to the empty statue. Not knowing whether it was a trap, he looked around cautiously before sliding the jewel into the slot.

A low hum was heard as a compartment in the warrior's chest opened to reveal a small space housing another vital component to his escape, the King Plug.

_"All these puzzles just to hide a simple chess piece, what the fuck? Now I know that fat bastard was off his rocker. All that trouble for small things like this, this 'benefactor' of mine should have just called Indiana Jones," _Jake scoffed as he slipped the plug into his side pack and was about to call Leon when the skylight shattered from above.

The hitman pointed his rifle upward to find another one of those Lickers crash landing behind him and rearing backward as soon as its clawed feet hit the floor. There was no time to squeeze the trigger as more clicking sounded and he found his adversary being followed by one of its demonic brethren.

Knowing he was surrounded, Jake fired a barrage towards the mutant before him and then rolled out of the way, remembering how these creatures possessed ultra sensitive hearing to compensate for their lack of sight and would likely attempt its next attack upon the rattle of gunfire.

Both of the Lickers had managed to avoid his salvo and one of them shot its tongue out, while the second leaped into the air with its arm drawn back.

Despite their primordial mindset, both the monsters displayed some deadly teamwork and the hitman found himself barely able to dodge the flying beast while trying to sidestep the other's tongue attack. He would fall on his ass and try to raise his rifle, but the creature wrapped its tongue around his leg.

"No…ahh!" Jake grunted as the appendage clamped down with the strength of an anaconda and yanked him towards its opened mouth.

He kicked his leg out hoping to strike the mutant in its face, the only action he could really think of at the moment as he had lost his rifle and probably wouldn't have the time to pull out his revolver, despite it being in his shoulder holster, without the Licker biting into his limb.

The other Licker's presence could not be overlooked and he took in the terse movement from the corner of his eye, as if the other beast was allowing its brother to get first dibs on the fresh meal, kind of like how the alpha male always took the first bite in a wolf pack.

_"Not if I can help it," _Jake thought as he felt himself being dragged closer towards the gaping maw.

He continued thrashing his foot about until it finally brushed against the mutant's exposed brain. After some struggle he finally managed to gain a foothold on the wet surface and now sought to gain some additional traction, adding a few stomps along the way.

The Licker remained undeterred and the coil tightened, forcing Jake to clench his teeth so he could avoid crying out in pain, not wanting the beast to have the satisfaction of making another victim scream. His muscles throbbed and ripped under the pressure, knowing he was probably just seconds away from having both his tibia and fibula snapped in half. It was now time to take another risk.

Knowing his magnum was nearby; the hired gun clawed away at the holster and had to use both hands to free the heavy gun. By now the other Licker could sense the coming danger and crept towards the struggle, forcing Jake to forget about the beast already trying to eat him and fire a round into the approaching offender.

The second Licker shrieked loudly as the large caliber round collided with its skinless surface, sending it rolling onto its side and thrashing about in a crazy dance of agony as blood sprayed freely from its fresh wound. It had been weakened, yet wasn't out of the fight just yet.

Hearing the shrieks combined with the deafening blast must have been too much for the first Licker's sensitive hearing as it suddenly released its grip on the human's leg, releasing a screech of its own.

Freed from the wet grasp, Jake rolled over until he was more than ten feet away from the stunned creatures, unable to rise to his feet due to the pain coursing through his leg. The aching only fueled his anger as he shifted his gaze back and forth between the two mutants, wanting to make them suffer for nearly turning him into a delicacy.

Taking aim again, he fired the rest of his rounds into both Lickers, killing his already wounded adversary and striking the other once in its arm, shredding its tendons into tiny little strips. The creature's screams raised a few octaves and the hitman swore could he feel his eardrums on the verge of bursting as the red monster sprung back to its haunches, only to collapse as its damaged limb split in half beneath it.

Jake was about to reload his magnum when his hand brushed against a small circular object clipped to one of the straps on his shirt, his last fragmentation grenade. Forcing himself to his feet, he pulled the pin and rolled it beneath the shrieking beast before bolting out through the nearby door.

The explosion rocked the ground behind the hitman and he found himself tripping over debris left by the crashed helicopter, sending him falling to his stomach.

"Shit!" Jake grunted as he felt the fresh sting of pain in his left arm in addition to the throbs from his leg. A small jagged piece of metal had sliced his upper arm open and what remained of his black sleeve seemed to darken even further as a trail of blood flowed beneath.

"Those fucking skinless freaks…" he whispered as he reached for his first-aid spray to treat the fresh abrasion as well as to relieve the tension in his sore leg, _"They keep multiplying at this rate I won't have enough ammo to keep taking them all down," _he told himself, aware that his next confrontation with them or any other monster could be his last, _"I've been lucky so far, but I have to wonder how long it will last."_

Looking down to his radio he suddenly remembered his promise to contact Leon when he found something of interest and lifted it to speak, "Leon, are you there? I've found the second chess piece! Are you there?"

The officer answered in a frantic tone, _"Jake, I can't talk now. I'm in the middle of fighting some brute, but I could really use your assistance right now! I'm on the third floor balcony in the main hall!"_

_ "That giant that tried killing Ada and I back in the office," _the hired gun told himself.

Jake jogged back to the main hall and looked up to the balcony, where he found Leon engaged in a desperate struggle with the same monster as expected, the giant taking wild swings at the rookie officer as he tried to fight him off with a newly-acquired Desert Eagle. The younger man fired into the walking tank until his weapon clicked empty, a horrified look crossing his features as the Tyrant drew closer.

Knowing his companion didn't have enough time; he raised his magnum and pumped a few shots into the B.O.W.'s side, temporarily diverting its attention to buy the officer some time while he reloaded. "That's right, don't you remember your old playmate 'Roid Boy?" Jake shouted before firing a few more shots before Leon could resume his assault.

"I'll be right up Leon!" he called out running over to the library's double doors and forcing his way past the corpses littering the floor from previous assaults and zooming up the stairs towards the balcony. A man's life was on the line and although he was typically not the kind to play hero, he still owed it to the cop for helping him out and sought to return the favor. As he neared closer to the door the gunshots grew louder and he readied his rifle. _"Hang tight, I'm almost there!"_

With a powerful kick, Jake broke the door off its hinges and fell to a knee as he entered to find Leon knocking the Tyrant over the railing with repeated blasts to its granite face. The two men looked over and watched as the giant fell to the marble floor below, connecting with a groundbreaking thud.

He looked down at the behemoth's broken form with an unfeeling gaze. He wasn't sure this would kill the monster, but hoped it would slow it down long enough now that the two of them seemed to be on the verge of escape. _"It'll probably take a fucking nuke to drop that freak for good…that or turn it into something twice as worse," _he thought turning to the officer and presenting him with the two chess pieces he had found, "Here, you might need these."

Leon gladly accepted the pieces and looked them over, "Good, the sooner we can find the last one, the sooner we can get out of here and away from more freaks like that," he spoke looking over the railing down to the fallen giant below at the end of his sentence.

The B.O.W. still laid motionless on the cracked tiling, but the rookie cop seemed to share his feelings that it probably wasn't dead yet and could rise again at any given moment. He took one last glace at the pieces before entering the clock tower.

The station's clock tower attested to the building's age and the wear and tear endured throughout the years, suggesting that the structure itself was probably more than 140 years old. Grossly discolored brick walls and brittle looking wood showed it could be on the verge of collapse at any second having suffered years of neglect. Rusted out gears left them skeptical as to if the golden cogwheel would get them operational or not.

Leon remained convinced that getting the gears to work was probably the key to solving yet another of this madhouse's demented puzzles, yet seemed to share Jake's thoughts of this tower's slow deterioration.

"Here goes nothing," the cop said removing the cogwheel from his side pouch and kneeling down to insert it in the small space between the two larger gears and pushed a button.

The rusted gears groaned with life and a layer of dust dissipated as they began chugging along at a sluggish pace. For the first time in years the station's grand clock began ticking and a screeching rattle came from the nearby wall, revealing a narrow shaft with a small compartment that held what they sought.

"The last piece," Leon shouted excitedly running over and snatching it from its hiding place, a Black Knight plug. "Now to get the hell outta here," he nodded back to the hitman and then looked down into the shaft. "There's an opening here, I wonder where it leads to," he said peering into the abyss.

"I don't know," Jake replied standing next to the rookie and looking down, "Hopefully can't be too far," he spoke and without warning lowered himself into the shaft.

"Jake wait!"

Another cloud of dust filled the room as the hitman's form slowly descended, his muscular form hampering the speed at which he went down the narrow passage. He could only imagine the drop would probably take him back down to the station's lower levels. A light came from the end of the tunnel beneath him and he braced his gloved hands at the sides of the shaft and his feet at the bottom, slowing his progress until he was at the end and allowed himself to drop down, stumbling backwards as his feet touched the unforgiving cement.

_"Last time I take that route," _Jake grunted shaking off the pain and looking around to find himself back in the hallway which led to the kennel and cell block area. A rumble came from above and he looked up to find Leon come tumbling down the chute and hit the ground in less-than-glamorous fashion.

"Damn it," the young officer hissed, feeling the pain shooting up and down his legs as he swept the dust from his uniform and picked up his Desert Eagle, "Back in familiar territory I see," he said taking note of his surroundings and then looking back to Jake.

"So what do we do now? Get the hell out of here?" the hired gun asked looking beyond the corner where he knew the kennel entrance stood.

"Bingo!" Leon replied and was about to say something else when he was cut off by a blood-curdling scream.

"That was Ben! Come on!" the cop shouted and raced towards the cell block.

Jake followed close behind knowing the man was probably dying and wanted to learn any new information he possibly could before he expired.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ben Bertolucci was literally cornered as he stared in wide-eyed horror at the mockery of nature standing before him with murderous intent.

Oh God he did not want to die, especially not now when he was on the verge of exposing a grand scale cover up that could have taken him to a Pulitzer Prize and beyond.

He should have gone with those three survivors, maybe then he would not have been caught in this sticky situation he stood trapped in right now.

"Get…get away!" was all that he could scream at the monstrous beast. He knew it was foolish, but it was all he could think of and it did him no good. Before him stood a freakish mass of mutated flesh that was probably incapable of reason and human logic.

The attacker offered no reply to the reporter's desperate pleas and raised its clawed hand to strike.

Author's Note: So far this has to be my shortest chapter I believe I've worked on, so for once many of you may actually be able to get through this without falling asleep on me.

Let's just say that in the next chapter an "old friend" decides to make his presence felt.

Until then, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	35. Ch 34: Dr Birkin I Presume

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: First and foremost I want to give a special thanks to Devil Without a Cause for submitting the 100th review to this story and with it, a special thanks to anybody who has taken the time to review this story.

I apologize for the delay because my mind kind of went into the gutter following the holidays, been busy playing "Fallout: New Vegas," which was later followed by my birthday present "Red Dead Redemption," both badass games which I seriously recommend checking out if you haven't done so yet.

Also, I want to wish everybody a belated happy new year!

Enough babbling on my behalf now, on with the story!

Chapter 34: Dr. Birkin I Presume

Ben Bertolucci lay in a spread eagle position against the wall near his now opened cell, having used what little strength he had left; he reached into his pocket for the key to open the gate. It had taken even more of a Herculean effort for him to rise into a sitting position, every single movement drawing closer to his last. His limbs felt as heavy as boulders and his chest, where he experienced most of his blood loss, was as light as a balloon.

This was the end as he knew it. He had been blinded by a sense of self-preservation and paid for his stupidity.

With a painful twitch he looked down to his chest and stared at the three massive slashes running vertically down his lanky torso. Blood gushed out with every breath he took, yet he tried to remain as calm as possible. A cool numbness ran throughout his body, interrupted by the occasional twinge. If he lost his cool the pain would probably flare up and he would scream uncontrollably until he passed out, never to wake up again.

He wanted to be at peace before he died and wanted to be alert long enough to tell the tale of the vast Umbrella conspiracy before he expired. The cop, the woman and the man in black should have been close enough to hear his scream. Maybe they would happen across him and he would give them the mail he had obtained from that Umbrella office he had been snooping around just weeks earlier.

The secret file was right behind him, mail to the Chief of Police from the director of Umbrella's chemical plant, one William Birkin. It told of everything he had planned, including the threat of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members and the revelation that the team's captain Albert Wesker had been in on the whole deal as well, but went rogue for some unknown reason.

One way or another, he had to get his information out to the public.

The screech of metal sounded and he turned to see both the cop and the man in black running towards him, people whom he had been disrespectful towards earlier and now he absolutely needed them. Bitter irony at its best.

"Ben!" the officer cried and ran over to him kneeling beside him so he could hear his faint final words.

"That…son of a bitch…" the reporter rasped, twitching again in pain. To talk almost ripped away at his chest and his lungs felt like they were on fire. It was excruciating for him, but he had to say it so it could get out. Taking a couple more deep breaths he tried to speak, but all he could get out was an anguished cry.

"Ugh! It burns!"

"Hang in there Ben!" Leon spoke lifting his hand, but was waved away by the dying reporter. "What happened here?"

"A…giant…beast attacked…me…" Ben spoke through the blood gorging in his mouth, but managed to spit out enough to finish his sentence, "…damn…I don't believe this…I almost got the story…"

Jake asked himself if it was really necessary for Leon to ask such a question. It was obvious the boorish reporter was just seconds away from death. Nevertheless, he had something to say and figured he owed it to the dying man to speak his final words without interruption.

Reaching through the bars behind him, he pulled out a manila envelope and emptied some white papers to the floor. "You wanted…information…from me? Here's…what I found…" He then offered the small stack of papers to the officer.

Leon stood up briefly and studied the papers closely with Jake looking over his shoulder.

"That's a copy…of the orders…addressed to the…chief…of police…by the…director of…Umbrella's…chemical plant: William Birkin…"

_"Birkin," _Jake thought to himself looking more intently at the papers.

Leon read the mail closely and with every line he read, the tighter his grip became on the paper and the more intense his gaze became, wanting to rip it to shreds. "I don't fucking believe it!"

"Believe it, that fat prick almost shot me and tried feeding me to that giant we were blasting back there," Jake cut in and then looked down to the dying reporter.

"Ha ha…bitter irony…" Ben chuckled painfully, "The chief of police…a co-conspirator," his chuckle soon turning into a bloody coughing fit before looking up one last time, "Get that scum…make him pay!"

"Ben!" the officer shouted again, kneeling down as the reporter fell over dead in a pool of his own blood. Another victim had been claimed by the madness tonight.

The screech of metal came from behind again and the two men turned to find Ada Wong standing there. "Leon, Jake, Ben…" a look of disbelief crossed her face as she looked down upon the bloodied form of the once reporter. "What happened to him?"

"He looks like he was hacked by something with three very large claws," Jake said nudging the man's corpse onto its back and then examining the markings which ran vertically down his torso, "and it has to be something much larger than one of those Lickers."

"Whatever it is, I sure as hell don't wanna stick around to find out," Leon said rising back to his feet again and facing his two companions. "There is no reason for us to stick around here any longer, let's gather up what you have and get out of here…" Before he could finish the young woman was already on her way out.

"Ada wait! Where are you going?" Leon shouted to her, but it was too late and she was already back in the hall.

"To the chemical plant, I have a feeling that's where I'll find John!" she said before disappearing around the corner like a shadow and then no more.

"Wait!" Leon called out again, but it was useless and he sighed in defeat. Looking back to Jake he pulled out his transceiver, "Claire, come in!"

_"I'm here, what is it?"_ she spoke from the other end.

"Jake and I are getting out of here and are heading to the sewer. Can you meet us there?"

_"I've got Sherry with me and we're on our way," _she replied before hanging up.

Lowering his radio he looked back to Jake, who nodded in agreement, "Lead the way, officer."

The two men made their way back into the hall and then entered the kennel, where they were now able to travel safely through the passage beneath before reaching the sewage disposal facility.

"You ready for this?" Jake asked shifting his gaze back and forth between the cop and the cesspool entrance.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Leon replied, but with a look of uncertainty upon his youthful features.

"Do you think maybe I should check it out first?" the hitman asked.

The rookie officer looked at him like he was crazy, but seemed to have trouble verbalizing his opinion. Either he was torn between his sworn duties to protect a civilian under his care or he was afraid of saying something that would piss off a man who had already survived five days in a nightmare, something which had to make him a pretty dangerous individual otherwise.

"I'm not some weak civilian pal and I'm sure Claire and Ada aren't either if they've made it this far," Jake grunted in annoyance, "Just because we don't have badges doesn't mean we can't handle ourselves."

"I still don't know," Leon said shaking his head uneasily, "I just get the feeling that something isn't right this time around, with whatever attacked Ben and everything."

"I hear you on that," Jake nodded and looked back to the door, "If you want, I'll search the room and make sure nothing is there and I'll come back to get you."

"Are you fucking insane?" Leon blurted out, but was silenced when the black-clad man raised his hand.

"I know what I'm doing. Jesus, are all rookie cops this idealistic?" Jake asked shaking his own head now.

"Hey, I don't care if you've survived longer in this bullshit than I have," the cop retorted, "I still have my job to do and I intend to perform to the most of my abilities until the end."

Jake only shrugged as the cop turned around and opened the door. Not waiting for an all clear he followed his companion inside.

The cesspool appeared the same way it was before. Having noticed the glowing red light on the chessboard lock beckon them forth, the two men were about to make their way across the bridge when a low, ragged gasp called out from the hallway.

"Shit, not one of those bastards again," Leon growled as he pulled the door open to find another Licker bounding along the wall towards them. Pumping his shotgun the officer stepped back into the hall and opened fire, leaving the door to slam shut behind him.

The click of an automated locking mechanism caught Jake's attention but before he could approach the door, an alarm went off and red klaxon lights began flashing, turning the room a sickening shade of red.

"What now?" he asked as his attention diverted elsewhere.

_"Warning," _a cool robotic female voice called out seemingly from all directions, _"Biohazardous material had been detected outside of designated safety parameters. Waste disposal facility has now entered lockdown sequence. This sequence will end when offending materials have been properly disposed of. All personnel must enter designated safety zones and await orders from their disposal team. Repeat, all personnel must report to designated safety zones immediately."_

"Biohazardous material my ass," Jake shouted and began pounding away on the door, "Leon! Can you hear me out there?"

Outside in the dingy hall the rookie officer had just succeeded in putting down a second Licker with a point blank blast to its upper back when the hall he stood in was suddenly bathed in a violent red hue as klaxons spun overhead. He could hear his companion's voice calling out from the cesspool room and leapt over the first Licker's carcass towards the door. Much to his horror it was locked.

"What's going on?" he shouted back as he beat his fist against the door, only to leap backward as a reinforced steel shutter lowered. The door leading to a nearby storage room locked, as did another shutter descending to bar the entrance they had come from. Another clicking sound came from above and he looked up to see the opened ventilation duct Ada had previously crawled through blocked off by a steel plate that would prevent anything else from getting in or out.

The same emotionless female voice Jake had just heard sounded from above, warning that biohazardous material had been detected and now the facility was going under lockdown.

"Leon! Can you hear me out there?" Jake Smith's voice repeated, breaking the rookie out of his reverie and he looked frantically back towards the cesspool entrance, able to hear the man's fists banging against the steel surface. "Say something damn it!"

"Yeah, Jake I'm right here!" Leon shouted back placing a hand to the steel surface and muttering an obscenity to himself. He stared down to his shotgun, but knew it probably wouldn't even dent the reinforced surface.

Jake stopped pounding against the locked door that imprisoned him knowing it was a futile effort. He had escaped the horrors of the R.P.D. just to find himself caught in another trap. If this 'biohazardous waste' didn't kill him, then he was bound to starve to death in these cramped rancid quarters, unless he didn't already blow his own brains out to escape that annoying siren that had been threatening to make him go deaf.

_"Some luck this is," _he thought to himself as a loud dripping noise somehow sounded above the blaring alarm. Turning around he found an unknown substance striking the metal bridge in the center of the room, a mixture of the purplish-black liquid he saw the one-eyed giant from the streets 'bleed' and a discolored pinkish substance as thin as water.

"Could this be it?" the hitman said kneeling over the puddle and then looking up to see cracks in the ceiling the substance was dripping through, and they were growing gradually as an unseen figure stomped on the surface from above.

"Crap!" he hissed as he raised his rifle and inched himself away from the bridge and back towards the entrance where Leon still called out for him.

"Jake are you still there? What the hell is going on?" he shouted, his voice heard faintly above the blaring siren.

"It's some kind of weird substance I've seen before!" Jake hollered back above the alarm's drone, "Something else is going on too!" he said looking back towards the forming cracks in the ceiling.

"What? What is it?" Leon called out.

A loud rumble sounded from above and the room began to shake. Dust and debris rained down and one of the lighting fixtures came undone, falling into the bottomless pit below.

"Oh shit, what is that?" the rookie officer called out worriedly.

The loud rumble grew and soon the lights began flickering on and off, "I think we're about to find out!"

An earth-shattering crash rocked the entire foundation and soon a large portion of the ceiling collapsed, knocking Jake from his feet and raining large splintered boulders and thrashed furniture into the small room, most of which fell into the abyss beneath him.

"What the hell?" Jake asked to no one as he reached over for his fallen machinegun and rose to his knees when he was greeted by the same ear-splitting roar he had first heard back in the cell block area, only now it was close enough to nearly rip the flesh from his bones and make his brain explode inside of his skull.

_"That thing Ben mentioned…," _was the first thought to come to the hitman's jarred mind as he settled himself into a sitting position and blinked his eyes repeatedly, _"…and it must be in the same room as me!"_

Heavy, labored footsteps followed by the scraping of claws against metal caught his attention and he looked towards the bridge to find a hideous sight that should not have been physically possible, even in the hell Raccoon City had become.

Standing before him was a monster that made both Tyrants look like puny little zombies.

The disfigured monstrosity stood over seven feet tall, a majority of its height the result of the warped tissue making up half of its body. The tattered fabric of a white lab coat was draped across its shoulders with the rags that had once been a green dress shirt underneath and also wore dirty, ragged blue jeans and fancy brown dress shoes now scuffed and threatening to split at the soles. It also looked like the mass had either absorbed an ordinary looking blond-haired man into its shoulder, or the man had been growing out of the mess like it was giving birth. There was no telling where the man ended and the monster began. The rest of the creature was made up of reddish-brown muscle with purple veins snaking their way throughout the maze of blemished flesh.

Its most recognizable feature was its large, elongated right arm, a complete contradiction of its ordinary, human-looking left arm. The limb was as long as the rest of the mutated body, with strange claw-like appendages dragging along the metallic surface beneath it. Where its bicep should have been, there was a large red eyeball glaring upon its new target, if it could actually see out of that large eyeball was unknown.

Jake took a closer look at the creature's face and his mouth soon hung wide open in disbelief.

The short, neatly cropped blond hair, left blue eye, narrow face and the resemblance to Sherry…the hired gun remembered the face from the photograph included in the manila envelope that had been dropped off on his doorstep.

_"How could it be?" _he asked himself.

The face was attached to a walking abomination that looked like it was not of this world; this creature had the face of his target, the face of…

William Birkin!

"It can't be…" Jake muttered as he stared at the mutant before him, not wanting to believe his eyes. This creature had the face of William Birkin, but how? He expected to find a scrawny scientist who would have only been able to put up a minimal defensive effort, one who would have been hidden away in a barricaded office clutching onto a pistol for dear life, one who would have sent his underlings to do his dirty work for him.

Then he remembered that note that had been left out for him when he woke up in the apartment, the one telling him his mission was not over and that Dr. Birkin 'wasn't as dead as he thought he was.' Could this large walking hunk of discolored flesh have been William Birkin, the very man he was sent to kill?

So many thoughts and uncertainties came to mind, but what was for certain right now was that a large mutated bloodthirsty freak stood before him and probably saw the hitman as another tasty morsel it would be anxious to sink its teeth into, ready to chop his head off without second thought.

"Birkin…" Jake whispered to the creature, standing with his M4A1 trained on the creature's forehead.

"Sh…Sher…Sherry…" the monster growled in an animalistic bass as it stepped closer to Jake and shot out its monstrous right hand, grabbing hold of the nearby safety railing and with a few strained tugs, ripped a section of the steel railing away and took a few practice swings with its newly-acquired weapon like it was coming up to bat at a baseball game.

"Jake, what's going on in there?" Leon frantically called out again having heard the noises from outside.

The assassin ignored the officer's racket and looked back to the mutant, who again called out for Sherry in a slightly clearer tone.

_"This freak has to be talking about Sherry Birkin, so maybe it could really be Birkin. Maybe he too fell to the T-Virus, but could it be possible he's still trying to hold onto his humanity? Judging by those claws maybe it could be him who killed Ben too," _Jake thought before pulling back the bolt on his rifle, _"Soon he will think no more."_

"Well come on, let's get this over with you big ugly bastard!"

Making the first move, Jake peppered the mutated researcher's malformed shoulder with a barrage of hot lead and tried to take a shot at its human face, but the monstrosity quickly raised its altered arm to absorb all the shots fired in its direction. The purplish-black substance mixed with that pinkish liquid again splattered onto the floor and much like the one-eyed brute, its opened wounds rapidly sewed themselves shut to the sounds of breaking bones and ripping flesh.

The monster grunted loudly and swung its pipe at him, forcing the hitman to duck into a crouched position and opened fire on its knees. Its human-looking legs bled normal red blood at first, which was followed closely by the purplish-black liquid and the last vestiges of human flesh covering its knees were quickly replaced by the same reddish-brown muscle covering its upper torso, almost as if the attacks were only hastening the researcher's mutation.

William Birkin was still quick despite the excess bulk he now lugged around and swung his pipe downward, narrowly missing his target as the man rolled off to the side.

Jake tried to fire upon the mutated researcher again, but the former human raised its pipe even higher and brought it down again, forcing him off to the side and leaving an even bigger dent where he connected a second time. Getting closer, the mutant raised its foot into the air and attempted to come down upon him with all its body weight, but the hired gun quickly sprung to his knees and rolled backwards to avoid the stomp, the vibration causing pain in his back as he rolled.

As soon as he rose back to his feet, the mutant drew back and attempted to drive its gigantic shoulder into the man's chest, the latter barely managing to dodge with a hasty sidestep leaving him visibly winded.

Jake had no time to catch his breath. The mutated Umbrella researcher whirled around and drew its pipe back to deliver a strike that would surely kill him. Acting on pure instinct, the criminal leapt back and as he did, fired a napalm round into the creature's face.

The resulting detonation sent both combatants flying backwards, the disease riddled giant only stumbling back a few paces while the hitman nearly struck his already sore head against the cold metal floor. The intense heat prickled his skin and shards of burning metal tore away at the flesh on his left forearm, but he was far from out of the fight and fired what was left of his current clip into his inhuman adversary.

Most of the ragged strips that had once been Birkin's lab coat were burned away in the blast and most of the flesh on his face had been hideously scorched, its twisted remnants either a beet red or charcoal black. Large sections of his blond hair had been burnt away as well, making him look even more like a corpse. The researcher's one human blue eye watered and blood from a nearby gash mixed with the liquid to create a bloody tear streaming down his burnt face.

Jake nearly screamed in pain as he brushed his wounded arm against the nearby wall and almost collapsed, but managed to regain his footing and fired another flame round at the mutant. The shell connected with the beast head-on and it roared its displeasure. He could only smile through gritted teeth at causing pain upon his inhuman opponent and continued firing round after round into its wrinkled hide.

Burnt flesh fell to the metal floor as the rounds connected, but William Birkin showed no signs of giving up and continued his relentless pursuit of his attacker. When he was within swinging distance, he took another massive swing in the man's direction, but only succeeded in striking one of the septic tanks and sent dirty water spraying onto the bridge.

Jake continued his own counter-offensive, spraying the mutant with a constant stream of hot lead and even managing to strike the large eyeball sticking out of its shoulder. The organ blinked rapidly and sprayed pinkish liquid, but was not destroyed. However, it seemed to visibly weaken the mutated researcher and he slowed down significantly. A few more shots forced the mutant to limp towards him and take one weak swing that offered no threat to him. Taking another step backward, the hitman found himself near another electrical box and had an idea.

_"If it can work with that bald oaf from above, then it can certainly work with this bastard," _

Reaching for his holster, Jake pulled out one of his Berettas and made sure it was fully loaded before taking aim on his approaching target. _"That's right, come to me," _he smirked and fired a round into the researcher's neck, knocking him back considerably farther than he could with the M4A1 or its grenade launcher attachment. He allowed the mutant to take a few more steps toward him before firing another round and repeated the process until he had expended his latest clip and reached for another.

_"Keep coming," _he thought to himself, hoping his attacker was no longer intelligent enough to see past his trap. The more he could anger it, the faster he could draw it in. _"That's it," _he smiled firing another round into the creature's extra eye, causing it to nearly drop the pipe it had held so securely throughout the fight.

"_I wonder if there's any way to rupture that eye. Maybe that could put him down for good," _Jake thought as he fired another round at the eye, knocking the mutant backwards again.

Having taken enough punishment, the transformed William Birkin again threw its head back and roared in frustration. By now it was the angriest he had been since the transformation and began swinging the pipe wildly.

Jake saw the attack coming from a mile away and summoned up his remaining speed and agility to dodge every attack thrown at him, eventually managing to roll past the lumbering giant, but not without taking a backward elbow strike that sent him flying against one of the guard railings and over the edge, leaving him hanging on for dear life.

"Damn it," he grunted trying to hold onto his revolver while maintaining a firm grip with the other hand on the railing. His M4A1 laid on the metal floor in front of him, but was too far out of reach as the mutated researcher began walking towards him again, banging its pipe against the floor showing how anxious it was to bash his skull in.

Jake took another deep breath and fired into the beast's giant red eye and then another knocking it closer to the electrical box. _"Just a little closer…" _he told himself firing another round and went to fire another when his gun clicked empty.

"Shit!" he whispered.

For the first time in the fight Jake Cavanaugh was truly defenseless. He now held an empty gun in one hand while barely maintaining his grip with the other. Now was a time to think fast or else it would be curtains for him. He was in no position to reach for another speed loader or his M4A1. There was still the sword strapped to his back, but he had no idea how useful it would be against the hulking behemoth he was engaged in a brutal death match with. Then again, he found himself in a situation where he didn't have much of a choice and anything was better than nothing.

Tossing his empty Beretta onto the metal platform, he reached back and removed the long glistening blade from its scabbard and waited for the former researcher to move a little closer to him and with a mighty heave, tossed the sword.

The blade caught the beast in the carapace of its throat, going through much easier than he thought it would. It could only gurgle loudly as the blood gushed out of its fresh wound like a demented waterfall. Shaking its upper torso, the giant managed to loosen the blade and began shrieking its rage, spinning like a whirlwind. It picked up speed with every rotation, twirling in a mocking dance that nearly took the hitman's head off in one fell swoop.

His rifle lying in front of him, Jake scooped it up and cautiously pulled himself onto the bridge while avoiding the monster's flailing attacks. By now the mutated researcher had managed to extract the sword from its throat and tossed it aside, letting out a roar of pure animalistic fury. Not knowing how much he had in this clip, on blind faith the hired gun fired another barrage into his enemy's lower back.

Birkin whirled around only to be met with another napalm shell to his face. The force of the blast knocked him backwards and soon another shell found its way into his shoulder, finally knocking him from his feet with the pipe extended.

A loud clank soon followed and the crackle of electricity sounded as the pipe had penetrated the box's lid. Voltage flowed through the giant's misshapen body using the pipe as a conductor and it screeched and convulsed in pain until its entire form was smoking. A few frenzied seconds later, a loud boom followed and the mutant formerly known as William Birkin stumbled back a few steps before tripping over the security railing and falling into the bottomless pit.

After a few tense seconds the alarm went dead now that the biohazardous waste had been 'properly' disposed of. The door behind Jake clicked and Leon came barreling into the room with shotgun raised ready to fight.

"What happened in here?" the rookie cop asked out of breath and taking note of the trashed room they stood in. "It looks like you had some kind of party without me."

"You could say that," Jake replied looking down into the darkness the monster had fallen into. "I got attacked by some freak that I don't even know how to describe properly. Bastard had a huge fucking arm and some eye growing out of its shoulder. Part of it actually looked human too, almost like the man was growing out of it," he said taking his eyes away from the pit and looking down to his rifle before bending down to pick up his fallen magnum. "Thank some unseen force I had enough ammo to put the son of a bitch out of its misery," and then he looked over to the fried power box he knocked it into, "and it wasn't as smart as it thought it was either."

"Good to see you're still among the living," Leon spoke before taking notice of the open wound on his companion's forearm. "You're hurt!" the cop said reaching into his utility belt and pulling out an ace bandage, "Here, take it!"

Jake looked down to his forearm, suddenly remembering the open shrapnel wound he had sustained from the shell fired into the mutant's face after getting too close to his attacker.

"Right," he replied pulling out his first-aid spray and spraying the wound before applying the bandage.

Leon searched his pockets again and pulled out the three chess plugs before approaching the back door where one of their counterparts had already been placed. "Let's just hope this works," he said and one by one proceeded to slide the plugs into their designated slots.

An electronic chime followed and the sound of hydraulics being released indicated the door was now open. The two men looked to each other and raised their weapons.

"I think maybe you should go in first this time," Jake nodded with his M4A1 raised.

"I think that sounds like a good idea," Leon replied patting his holstered Desert Eagle and pumping his shotgun.

For now Jake Cavanaugh had seemingly triumphed over his inhuman adversary, but did this mean the man was truly dead and the reward money was his?

Only time would tell as the two men stepped through the mechanical door and continued on with their journey.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

William Birkin had once been a man.

A researcher employed by Umbrella, Inc., he seemed like your normal everyday mild-mannered family man with his doting wife Annette and loving daughter Sherry. It seemed like a typical existence to an outsider in the sleepy former resort community that was Raccoon City.

Nobody would ever suspect him of creating such chaos on the scale of the Holocaust, but like the company he worked for, he was a master at putting on a pretty face for the public.

William Birkin the Umbrella researcher was a madman driven by the pursuit of power and his dreams of creating the 'ultimate scientific masterpiece.'

To achieve his dreams, he had used a tool known as the 'God Virus,' or G-Virus for short, a bio-weapon intended to grant those exposed to it god-like powers, as well as immortality and freedom from all known diseases. In truth, the virus turned its victims into twisted monstrosities of unspeakable destruction driven only by their primordial urges to kill and eat.

Dr. Birkin had seen much of this firsthand as he personally conducted most of the experiments himself, turning ordinary people and animals captured by the company, and even inanimate plants into guinea pigs for his insane experiments, showing little or no remorse for his actions. Doing so would have hampered his efforts and he would never earn his rightful position on the board of directors. To him, it was all in the name of science.

Now here he lay in the raw sewage of his beloved hometown, a victim of his own creation.

Those paranoid bastards from the board of directors had feared the doctor was becoming too independent for his own good and had found out about his precious G-Virus thanks to some spy, probably from that ill-tempered slob Brian Irons. Naturally, they feared he would try to take his creation and defect to one of their rivals, or that he would simply keep the virus for himself and sell it to the highest bidder.

It would have been too much of a threat to their well-being if the maverick scientist had been allowed to go undisturbed and thus he needed to be dealt with. Plus, they saw it as an opportunity to take his G-Virus, the very experiment he had fought to keep under wraps without their approval, and take all the credit for its development.

A fire team of heavily-armed Umbrella Security Service operatives infiltrated the secret research facility and easily disposed of the rogue employee. They then managed to retrieve samples of the T and G-Viruses as well as a prototype antidote before making their escape.

Unknown to the soldiers, William had survived the attack and with his dying breath, injected his own prized creation into his body.

The results had been horrendous, transforming the once brilliant researcher into a walking killing machine driven by the same primeval urges in his test subjects. He was William Birkin no more.

Every waking second he endured endless physical torment, constantly mutating as a result of the virus coursing through his veins. The longer he endured the less human he became. His rational thought process deteriorated with every step and his newfound animal instincts took over, yet he still retained some of his former memories by this point, particularly his most recent which had been those of the people he had either killed or infected.

First, there were those U.S.S. soldiers who had attacked him in his laboratory. He had stalked them through the sewers and had minced every single one of them with his enormous claws. Their dying screams echoed in his tortured mind and the scent of their blood still lingered on his claws, a most intoxicating odor.

Next there was Monica Stevens, a young researcher who had always been a troublemaker towards him. She was an aggressive employee determined to make her mark in Umbrella by any means necessary, even if she would have to usurp her former supervisor's power. The devilish harlot had even tried to seduce him on more than one occasion, hoping to gather the needed materials to blackmail him and ruin his standing with the company.

He had given her exactly what she deserved when she tried escaping from the facility with one of _his_ prototype G samples. Right now she was probably still wandering around somewhere with one of his 'children' growing inside of her, ready to burst at any minute.

Then there was that long-haired man who had been in the prison cell. Whoever he was, he stood in the former researcher's way and was dealt a savage blow from his claws.

Lastly, there was that fat pig Irons. The opportunistic bastard sold him out and if it weren't for him, that hit squad would have never been sent after him in the first place.

It was a joyous sight to watch him cower and hear his screams for mercy like the pathetic slug he truly was. He too was impregnated and his 'offspring' had already sprung from the fat man's chest, where it had gone was a mystery. All that mattered now was that traitor was dead.

Searing agony assaulted every tendon of the former researcher's mutated body as the beast struggled into a sitting position and then it knew it had sustained serious damage. Large portions of the Tyrant's leathery hide had been burnt to a crisp, hindering the process at which its bullet wounds would sew up.

The wound in its throat particularly was a cause of discomfort and the blood continued gushing from the opened crevice. It created even more pain as the wounds began sealing themselves shut and the monster let out another ear-piercing shriek as the wound began to mend.

Excruciating pain made the savage beast think of the mysterious human who had inflicted these injuries, a man who reeked of death and violence. The anger fueled its infinite blood thirst and it drove its malformed fist through the wall on its right. Grunting, it wrenched its arm free and looked down as the limb began to tremble.

It was changing again and when the creature's mutation grew, so did its fury and its insatiable hunger.

Groaning in pain, the mutant was unable to move as his human head was pushed further down into his body, almost being absorbed by the mass of flesh the rest of his torso had become and in the end, stood out like a strange decoration. Simultaneously, his left arm began growing, looking like a burnt limb as it became discolored and its legs expanded outward, ripping his jeans and obliterating his dress shoes. The stump where the monster's head had once been began to vibrate and bubble and with a sickening tear a new 'head' sprouted from the mess, its unblinking new red eyes glowing like fireflies in the nocturnal sky.

Looking downward, the mutant's enlarged right hand began to effervesce and with one last major shred, five two foot long claws sprouted from the beast's right hand, giving it deadly weapons that would be capable of shredding a human being to pieces in one swipe.

William Birkin had taken a further step in his mutation and was prepared to resume his hunt for fresh meat. However, he still retained one human thought in his mutated mind.

Find his daughter Sherry so that she may carry on his legacy.

Being a product of the G-Virus, William now had the ability to implant embryos in other life forms; a trait Sherry would be likely to inherit being his daughter. Individuals with non-related genetic coding would be likely to reject the embryo, thus being the case with Chief Irons and Monica.

She was close by, he could sense her essence. He would find her and she would carry on his legacy whether she liked it or not. His life's work would not die with him.

Hearing the groans of the dead before him, the former researcher pressed forth and drove his clawed hand through the nearest wall, splitting it open like it was nothing. Another group of zombies had congregated in the tunnel and charged dumbly towards the large mutant thinking he was another treat, unable to comprehend the danger they were in.

Drawing its clawed arm back, the Tyrant launched itself forth and with a mighty swipe took out half of the pursuing group, leaving a few dismembered upper torsos crawling after him, which he later snuffed out by stomping on their heads. A few more remained, all dispatched with quick slashes leaving most of them decapitated or too far damaged to be a threat. In the end, one zombie remained and was impaled by the mutant's mighty claw, which then raised it into the air before splitting the hapless walking cadaver in two.

William Birkin moved through the grimy sewers with a purpose, driven by the last human thought he ever experienced:

Keep the G-Virus alive.

Author's Note: And so it has FINALLY happened, Jake Cavanaugh has had his first encounter with William Birkin and walked away alive! Then again, I'm sure a lot of you could tell what was up when you read the title of this chapter.

Well that's it for now on my behalf and am truly hoping the 2011 year can be a better year for me than the last one was.

Until then, read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	36. Ch 35: Doorway to Hell

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 35: Doorway to Hell

"Everything looks clear so far," Leon reported from the walkway as he made his descent.

The special door led the two men into an open passage devoid of any threats; still Jake remained on guard as his companion walked over to some flower pots where a few blue herbs had been left behind. His mind taken back to those mutated spiders and what had happened to Officer Burchill back at the library; he made sure the rookie cop took everything, ready to scoop up anything if it were left behind.

"You think these tunnels would lead to anywhere important?" Leon asked looking over to an alcove where a door stood at the end.

Jake knew the young officer came from outside of Raccoon City and probably still didn't have much intimate knowledge of the city or its inner workings. The hitman however remembered what he read in Sebastian's diary and surmised they could be near the research facility he mentioned.

"I'm just as clueless as you, but we probably don't have much choice right now," he replied, slipping into his 'clueless civilian' role.

A slight crumble caught their attention as tiny pebbles rained down from above. The two survivors looked up to see more cracks forming in the ceiling above them.

"Crap! Could that be your friend again?" Leon asked pumping his shotgun.

"I sure as hell hope not," Jake replied readying his rifle.

A slew of large rocks fell as the cracks expanded and a slender figure fell through, amazingly landing on her feet despite her less-than-glamorous entrance.

"Ada!" Leon shouted to the woman.

Ada Wong stood before them dusting herself off, her red cocktail dress now sporting a few stains and her black leggings a few snags. She noticed the two men standing before her and smirked with confidence.

Her womanly charms did not fool Leon, and he quickly admonished her, "What was that all about? Running off like that was reckless and stupid! Those zombies are everywhere, not to mention that thing that got Ben!" the officer growled as he got into her face and waving his free hand around.

"I was there Leon, I know," the woman replied somberly and then looked over to Jake who said nothing.

"Look Ada, as an officer, it's my job to look out for you and Jake alike," he spoke, his tone now softening a little, "but we're not going to get through this alive if we don't work together, okay?"

"Alright…we'll do this your way for now," she replied with a girlish wink.

"C'mon let's go, and stay with us this time," Leon ordered making his way down the narrow hall.

Ada looked to Jake, who shared Leon's thoughts, "C'mon, let's get out of this rancid shithole," he spoke motioning for the woman to go ahead so he could make sure she wouldn't run off again.

She could tell he was keeping a close eye on her and nodded meekly, hoping he would back down in due time. For now, she would play the role of the obedient companion. As soon as she could distance herself from them it would be all over.

The door led to a small office set up like a makeshift boardroom with two folding tables pushed together, a small set of lockers, tables covered with partially consumed food and drink and several control consoles. Leon held a piece of paper in hand reading it to himself and then showed it to Ada as they entered, a fax to the sewer manager regarding Umbrella employees making regular use of the facility.

"Got some more names down," Leon said folding the fax and sliding it into one of his vest's compartments.

Jake meanwhile made his way over to the lockers and searched for anything of use, managing to find two boxes of shotgun shells that Leon could use, an extra can of first-aid spray for Ada, and two boxes of handgun bullets, both of which he gave to his companions as the hitman was still fairly well armed. There was also a Remington shotgun in one of the lockers, but it was broken.

"Hmmm, this is odd," the hitman remarked aloud as the lockers suddenly became unhinged from their supports and began sliding to the side. "Well what do we have here?" he said as he pushed the lockers aside with his shoulder. After a few shoves he had uncovered a rusted industrial door with the word "STORAGE" stenciled in faded red paint, like the room had been neglected for some time.

"We don't have enough time to search every single inch of this area right now. We need to get through here as fast as we can," Leon spoke up impatiently gesturing towards a nearby lift. He could tell from the look on her face that Ada shared the younger man's urgency.

"Fine, you two go ahead. I'll check this room out," Jake said sliding the door aside to reveal a ladder leading down, "I'll meet up with you soon."

"Are you sure?" Leon asked placing a hand on his hip and staring intently at him.

The hitman rolled his eyes, "How many times do I have to tell you I've survived an entire week in this nightmare? If I can make it this far along, then that should tell you that a civilian is capable of caring for their own well-being in a cluster fuck of this magnitude…" he finished with a sarcastic groan.

Both of his companions were blown away by the sudden outburst and looked uneasily towards each other, not wanting to leave a comrade behind, "Fine, we'll go ahead, but we're not leaving without you!" Leon looked to Ada and motioned with a jerk of his head to follow him. Together the two stepped onto the flimsy-looking lift and made their descent.

Jake switched on the rifle's flashlight attachment and lowered himself down into the darkened storage area ready for any challenges awaiting him. He tried to move as quietly as possible, knowing that his hands and feet striking the metal would make noises that could attract possible uninvited guests. Straining his ears he listened for any moans, footsteps, clicking or humming noises that could give away possible threats and shined the light downward to see a zombie at the bottom swaying quietly, awaiting its next target.

Listening to the silence around him, Jake withdrew his Beretta and screwed his silencer onto it, firing a single round into the top of the cadaver's cranium, a small puff emitting as he pulled the trigger. The potential adversary sagged to the ground, the thud of its body attracting more footsteps. Staying where he was, another zombie stumbled into his swath of light kneeling down to snack on its fallen comrade. Firing another silenced round, the second creature fell on top of its expired cohort.

No more footsteps sounded and he lowered himself. An icy feeling formed in his gut knowing there were probably more zombies lurking in the shadows and waiting for him to pass so they could tear into his throat when he least expected it.

Touching his feet to the ground, Jake moved along now equipped with his M4A1 and shining his light into every corner making sure there was nothing else waiting for him. Moving cautiously, his light shone upon a sparkling object, another lighter. Trailing the beam along the wall, he spotted a red lantern and carefully snuck up to the lighter, snatching it up and igniting the lamp above.

A large portion of the room was now illuminated and the hired gun found himself in a room that had been converted into an emergency shelter. A few blood-spattered sleeping bags had been pulled out and were surrounded by emptied first-aid kits and food wrappers, as well as some empty soda cans and wine bottles.

"Heck of a time to thrown an 'end of the world' party," he whispered as he took notice of the emptied ammo cases, some of which were large enough for shotguns and assault rifles.

More corpses were present as well.

Near the sleeping bags rested a male and a female, both of whom had been far too torn apart to be at risk of reanimating. In a corner was another man dressed like a sewage worker with a bullet in his right temple. Clutched in the man's hand was a .38 revolver that was likely empty by this point.

Rounding another corner, Jake jumped back as a bony hand reached out from the darkness attempting to grab him by the collar. Raising his rifle he fired a three shot burst into his attacker's rotting face and knocking it backwards. From the muzzle flashes illuminating the darkened area, he spotted another zombie staggering about and guided his light towards its face, firing two bullets through its left eye.

"Hopefully that'll be it," he whispered as he crept along the path and rounded another corner where he found another red lantern and reached up to light it.

Slumped over a desk before him, Jake found another man in a sewage worker's uniform with what looked like a detached tentacle feasting on the back of his head. Nearly gagging in disgust, he fired a shot through the brittle creature and let it sag to the ground with a pained squeal. Upon closer inspection, the beast had the shape of a worm and its end opened to reveal four giant fangs surrounding a hole lined with smaller inner rows of teeth like a shark.

"That's fucking sick," the hitman hissed and knocked the corpse aside, revealing a complete map of the Raccoon City sewer system.

Scooping up the blood-drenched laminated piece of paper, he pointed to a gold star marking where he currently stood and traced his finger along a trail to a larger area marking the main sewage disposal control room and then an area with the Umbrella symbol on it, marking the tram entrance.

"_So I'm close," _he told himself as he set the map down and searched the nearby shelves, finding some more speed loaders for his revolver. He also found a few more clips compatible with Leon's Desert Eagle and some more shotgun shells. Seeing as the officer would need them, he scooped them up.

"Alright, I think I've found everything I possibly could in here," Jake whispered as he shined his light to the corner near the desk, where he noticed another crack and from within could hear a wet squishing noise. _"That can't be good."_

From the crack emerged another one of those worm-like creatures, followed by a second, then a third and so on until they were fighting their way through the crack to get at him.

"Definitely not good," Jake choked out while trying to suppress a gag. Quickly leaping back from the enclosed space he fired a napalm round towards the encroaching horde and managed to immolate most of the offending beasts before having to fire another round.

The flames began swallowing up anything surrounding them and the hired gun was forced to whirl around on his heel and rushed towards the ladder, bolting up the rungs as quickly as he could before he pulled the door shut behind him.

Before he could fall back against one of the tables and mutter the obligatory curses, more gunshots sounded from below.

"More uninvited guests?" he asked aloud and ran over to slam the call button, waiting impatiently as the platform sluggishly came up to meet him. Once he stepped on he was pushing the button to make his way downward.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leon Kennedy lay in the dull gray hallway stirring back into consciousness, barely registering the stinging sensation in his left shoulder, let alone the sticky blood staining his uniform.

The last thing he could remember was being in the hall with Ada, where they spotted a blonde-haired woman in a lab coat. They immediately gave chase and she ran into the middle of a T-intersection, proceeding to open fire upon his companion.

In an act he couldn't decide was either heroic or stupid, he dove in front of Ada and then everything went black.

It suddenly registered that he had been shot and looked down to finally notice the blood covering his uniform, the pain throbbing for his efforts and forcing him to jerk his head back.

"Ada…" he mumbled weakly, remembering his companion.

Looking around, the lady in red was nowhere to be found and with his bullet wound he was in no condition to get up and go looking for her.

"Damn…where the hell is she?" he grunted as more pain wracked through his torso. He put his gloved hand over the wound and tried to shut the pain away, but it was no use. The young officer would need to seek urgent medical attention or else he wouldn't survive another day.

The mechanical whirr of a lift sounded from his right and he forced his right eye open to see Claire descending towards him.

"Leon!" the young woman called out and as soon as the lift locked into place she bolted over and knelt down beside him.

"What happened? You're bleeding!" she cried pushing his hand out of the way to get a better look at the wound.

"We ran into this woman who was in trouble. Her name's Ada…" he choked out still in great pain. "Right after that, someone tried to kill me and nearly succeeded too," he said looking down to his wound. "Jake stayed behind to search some storage room and Ada went after the sniper, but I'm worried about her. You gotta find her before something happens."

"But you've been shot…" Claire protested, only to be cut off by the officer raising his hand.

"I'll be okay. It's Ada I'm worried about…"

Another mechanical whirr sounded from their left and the two looked over to see Jake riding the lift down to meet them.

"Leon! What happened?" he called out as he ran over towards the two survivors.

"I'm alright. Ada and I were down here when we spotted some lady. We tried chasing after her, but she pulled out a gun and started shooting at us. I took a bullet for her and now she's gone off to find the lady. Somebody has to go look for her; I'm worried for her safety," the cop grunted.

"Not until we get that bullet wound taken care of," Claire remarked as she reached into her side pack and pulled out an ace bandage.

"You're gonna need some of this too," Jake spoke to her as he pulled out his first-aid spray and handed it to her.

"Thanks. I found some of these too," the woman said raising her hand to show the two hemostat capsules. Returning her attention to Leon, she grabbed a lock of the rookie's reddish-brown hair and titled his head back, popping them into his mouth. "Swallow them down and get ready to grit your teeth," she ordered as she shook the canister and proceeded to spray the wound until it coagulated enough to prevent him from bleeding to death.

"Ugh…thanks…" Leon grunted before he began breathing at a steadier pace. Claire then applied the sterilized bandage.

"Look, I appreciate the help and everything, but somebody needs to check up on Ada. I'm worried about her and I need to know if she found that woman yet or not," the cop spoke calmly as he was tended to.

"Alright, I'll go," Jake said rising to his feet and accepting his first-aid spray, but first I have some presents for you," he said opening his side pack and pulling out the shotgun shells and Desert Eagle clips. "These should help you along the way."

He then turned his attention to Claire, "How are you holding up?"

The college student held her grenade launcher up, "So far I'm doing pretty well for this bad boy. I've got plenty of acid and napalm rounds in addition to all the explosive shells I've been finding littered about. I'm doing pretty well for my Browning too. Thank God I've got the same shooting skills as my brother, must run in the Redfield genes," she proudly chimed.

"Uh huh, well I'll be on my way now," Jake said turning on his heel and running down the hall.

"_So he's let Ada slip her leash again," _he thought to himself reaching the door and crinkling his nose as he was struck by the wave of putrefaction. _"Mark my words, she'll be the death of him," _he told himself before whispering it aloud, "She'll be the death of him," uttering the same phrase he had with plenty of his guy friends in the past. _"No time to be a player, especially when you're surrounded by bloodsucking demons."_

Beyond the fetid air, Jake listened to the trickling water and blowing fan, accompanied by the light humming noises of those giant spiders. "Damn it. I'm a hitman, not an exterminator," he furrowed his brow and readied the rifle, making sure the attached grenade launcher was loaded as he crept towards the opening.

Barely dodging another cloud of poisonous mist being fired in his direction, the hired gun opened fire on a spider hovering above him. His barrage weakened it enough to send it collapsing to the concrete floor, finishing the disgusting arachnid off before firing a napalm round into its hairy carapace and burning it alive.

"One down," he muttered to himself as he stepped down into knee deep water that was likely tainted by feces, vomit and other forms of waste, both human and artificial. He took a left turn and found another alcove where he went to investigate.

There in the narrow space he found the carcasses of two individuals dressed in combat gear who looked as if they had been skewered by some gigantic blade, the possible work of the mutant encountered back in the waste disposal facility.

Judging by the build of the bodies, he could tell both victims were male. Both corpses were clad in black and gray urban operations B.D.U.'s, polymer elbow and knee pads, fingerless black gloves and black steel-toed combat boots. Over their jackets they wore matte black Level 4 tactical combat vests that held pouches for grenades and other ammo, utility belts stuffed with other important tactical equipment. Their heads were covered by military-grade gas masks equipped with thermal imaging goggles that gave off a glowing red glare that almost made them look like futuristic shock troopers even in death.

Their uniforms bore no symbols of any kind, obviously so they could not be traced back to their employers, meaning that these troopers could have belonged to anybody, but whom?

Were they members of a secret paramilitary unit sent in by the government to contain the outbreak? Could they have been C.I.A. assassins sent to investigate Umbrella? Maybe they were members of a foreign army sent to steal the company's research and take it back to their native land. Heck, maybe they were some of Umbrella's own lapdogs sent in to cover up their own company's accident in order to maintain their 'company of the people' image.

Whatever the case was, they were dead and Jake carefully searched their corpses. Aside from some non-lethal weapons, he did manage to find some extra explosive shells for his grenade launcher and another case of shotgun shells that would have been useful to Leon. Giving the closest body another shake a silver medallion fell from one of its pockets.

"Things just keep popping up from out of nowhere," the hired gun whispered to himself as he picked up the medallion and examined it closely.

The surface contained a Medieval-looking wolf design and then it suddenly hit him. He remembered the last entry from Sebastian's diary, where the researcher talked about the secret entrance to a tram hidden behind a waterfall and how it would require a 'Golden Eagle' and 'Silver Wolf' medallion to bypass the trap.

"_Got one piece of the puzzle found. Where the other one is, I'm almost afraid to ask," _he thought as he slid the medal into his pocket and then jumped back down into the water.

Rounding another corner Jake found another mutant spider moving into position. Raising his rifle he fired a volley into the arachnid's opened mouth, forcing it to scream wildly before firing a napalm round into its body that sent flames into the air and greenish blood splashing all over.

"More of it," he muttered as he was able to take in the bloodshed surrounding him, noticing the crimson and bullet holes covering nearby brick walls. Through the murky water he spotted another corpse lying in a corner, likely murdered in the same fashion as the two previous victims. There were probably more of the mutant arachnids lurking about and wouldn't doubt if they had a nest somewhere, giving him flashbacks of one of his all-time favorite sci-fi series, 'Hives.'

Continuing on with his mission he made his way through a nearby gate and found another spider looking to be in the process of cocooning a victim and he opened fire upon its backside, spraying more green blood as it turned around to face him. Never relaxing his finger from the trigger, he fired into the beast until his clip ran dry and the creature fell into the water with a mammoth splash. The spatter alerted another nearby arachnid and it too came charging towards the assassin.

"Damn bugs," he grunted as he quickly withdrew his magnum and fired a blast straight into its hideous visage, sending it to the same fate as its companion.

There was no time to check on the status of the spiders' cocooned victim as a gunshot rang out from a distance and Jake ran towards the source of the shot, which came from behind a set of metal double doors. Climbing onto the platform he loaded a fresh clip into his M4A1 and crept towards the doors, gripping the handle and easing his way inside.

Hugging his back to the wall he crept beneath a catwalk obscured by the shadows thanks to his dark clothing and listened for any type of movement. The pounding of shoes against metal came from above, followed by the clicking of a gun.

"Don't move," a feminine voice called out, one he had never heard before. "You're the one who was with that cop, if I'm not mistaken. Identify yourself!" the mystery woman demanded of an unseen figure.

"Ada…Ada Wong."

"Ada," Jake hissed and listened intently now that a familiar face was present.

"Ada Wong? I've heard that name before…Ah you're John's girl, the one who came in from Chicago to assist in the development of the T-Virus back at the old mansion," the woman continued.

"How did you know? Who are you?" Ada shouted at the woman.

"Annette Birkin. My husband is the man responsible for the creation of the T-Virus: William Birkin."

"What?" Ada gasped.

"_Birkin!" _Jake thought to himself, _"His wife is still alive and here in the city!"_

"John's dead," Annette flatly replied, no trace of emotion whatsoever, "He became one of those zombies, my condolences," she spoke in a patronizing tone that soon took a hostile edge, "Although I regret this, you will be joining him shortly. I won't let anyone take the G-Virus away from me."

"G-Virus?" Ada asked perplexed.

"It's capable of creating the ultimate bio-weapon. Its potential is even greater than that of the T-Virus."

"Then that must mean the creature in the police department is…" Ada trailed off.

"Precisely, my husband William, and it's all Umbrella's fault! None of this would have happened if they hadn't tried to steal his research away from him!" Annette growled on the edge of losing her composure.

"Shit…" Jake gasped, mouth hanging open in disbelief after being bowled over by that freight train of information. His suspicions were correct. The mutated creature he had encountered back in the sewage disposal facility was indeed William Birkin, transformed by his own creation. _"Now I know what that punk who knocked me out meant when he said the guy wasn't as dead as I thought he was. I don't fucking believe it." _He quieted down to allow the researcher to finish her story.

"Exactly one week ago, a group of Umbrella's hired goons infiltrated our facility. Those murdering bastards shot my darling and left him for dead!" she shouted, her tone turning into a mixture of grief and anger, "I found him lying there near death. I told him that I would go get something to treat his wounds and by the time I came back he was gone. The G-Virus…he had been yearning for a human test subject and he…" Annette again trailed off, all the fury and sorrow disappearing.

"Are you trying to say that he actually injected the G-Virus into his own body?" Ada asked in stunned terror.

"The G-Virus has the ability to revitalize cellular functions. All the damage done was quickly repaired, but it did much more than that. It mutated him; it robbed him of his humanity! He had to make those bastards suffer for what they did to him!" Annette spoke up, the rage returning to her voice at the mention of her husband's attack. Calming herself down, she spoke in a normal tone, "One by one, he stalked those killers through the sewers and butchered them all!"

"_Again I was right," _Jake thought, making reference to the skewered bodies in the alcove. They must have been members of that unit sent in after Dr. Birkin.

"Unfortunately an accident happened when William went on his tirade," Annette continued, "You see, one of the soldiers was carrying a case containing samples of the T and G Viruses, as well as a prototype antidote for the T-Virus. In haste, the impotent fool dropped the case and the contents spilled into the open. William was so blinded by his own animalistic fury; he crushed some of the samples and spilled their contents. Some rats happened across the green liquid and feasted upon it, thinking it was just some other refuse for them to dine on."

"So those rats were the carriers of the virus?" Ada asked in the disbelieving tone she had held throughout much of the conversation.

"Precisely, rats have always carried viruses with no harm done to them. They carried the Black Death and now this. Within time, they began biting the sewage workers, who in turn passed the disease on to the rest of the community and eventually…a full-scale outbreak!"

"No! What about the G-Virus?" Ada asked in horror at the sudden realization.

"As a result of his virus-induced mutation, William should have lost any prior memories he had as a human by now. Even worse, every G-Virus bio-weapon, including William, has the ability to implant embryos into other creatures…"

"…And create offspring. No…" Ada finished, "There has to be something that can be done about it. Where is the virus?"

"The case contained two samples of the G-Virus, one of which was missing and the other I will never tell!" Annette raised her voice again. The click of a pistol soon followed.

"No! We have to destroy it!" Ada protested.

A fierce scream came from Annette and Jake listened to the sounds of a heated catfight between the two women above. The fight ended with a _'POW'_ and Annette Birkin was sent tumbling over the railing, landing right before the hitman.

"_Guess the old lady wasn't as tough as Leon thought," _Jake told himself as he nudged the prone woman with his boot, forcing a pained groan indicating she was still alive. More gunshots sounded from the outside tunnels that caught his attention. "Guess I'll have to deal with you later," he said readying his rifle and rushing back outside.

Making his way through the gate he found Leon Kennedy had recovered and was now firing a shell into the rotting skull of the nearest zombie, painting the walls with its brain matter. Before he could catch a breather, another zombie was just inches away from having its broken fingernails tear into his flesh when he spun around and brought his foot up, shoving the walking cadaver backwards and firing a round of buckshot into its face.

The rattle of machinegun fire rang out from behind and several more zombies were soon dropped in a gory spray of infected crimson. The hiss of an airborne grenade soon followed and a small group of zombies found themselves immolated to death.

Turning around, the cop found Jake rushing towards him and firing another round directly at him.

Flinching and expecting to feel the pain of another bullet striking him in the chest, instead he was greeted by another splash. Looking over his shoulder, he found a zombified woman lying face up in the filthy water.

"Gotta watch your back officer," the black-clad man chuckled bitterly.

"You could've said something you know," Leon snapped, "I've already taken one bullet and sure as hell don't need another," he scolded while motioning to the bandage wrapped around his chest.

"We're gonna have to worry about that later," Jake replied as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and withdrew his dual Berettas.

More of the accursed undead continued to rise from their watery graves, the trash covering them making them look like the swamp creatures from a classic black and white horror film Jake had recalled watching with his older brother as a child. The loud pops of his dual handguns and the deep booms of Leon's shotgun resounded throughout the tunnels.

"I'll give it to you freaks in one way, you guys never give up!" Leon huffed as he dropped one zombie with a point blank blast to the face before swinging the butt of his gun into the head of another; hard enough to snap its neck upon impact.

The rookie officer's shotgun then clicked empty and he was forced to switch over to his H&K, which had now been given an attachment customizing it to fire three shot bursts, taking down yet another attacker with a burst to its rotting face.

Jake stood with his back to the officer firing bursts of his own towards the oncoming viral carriers, dropping three of them in succession before firing another napalm shell into the mass. More of them continued to emerge from the darkened corners, likely drawn in by the gunfire. How many of them there were he did not know, but he had to wonder if there could be just as many down here as there were topside.

"Fuck these freaks. We've gotta get moving," the hitman spat as he fired another napalm round into an oncoming horde and then turned left to fire another burst towards a duo before retreating back towards the gate.

Leon sprayed a barrage into the oncoming crowd before his sidearm clicked empty and he joined his companion near the gate, both of them making their way inside and locking it behind them.

"You think that's gonna hold them much longer?" he asked as the zombies tugged away at the rusted iron bars.

"I don't know," Jake replied as he turned around and his light shone upon the body that had been cocooned by the giant spiders. _"What the hell?"_

He now recognized the man's face as that of Officer Dustin Burchill, left in a situation similar to the way he was when they had first met, victimized by the gigantic spiders. Furthermore, the man still showed signs of life as his eyes were bulging out of their sockets and his mouth hung wide open, mouthing words that couldn't escape.

Leon had heard the man's convulsions and gasped in horror at the dying man as blood began gushing from his mouth.

They both watched as the trapped man's chest started to balloon and he finally managed a strident shriek as his chest exploded with a sickening shred of flesh and webbing as an entire swarm of newborn spiders roughly the size of footballs emerged from his chest cavity.

Crying out in horror, Jake quickly pumped his attached grenade launcher and fired a napalm round into the mass of webbing, igniting both the dying officer and a majority of the infant spiders. There had been a few stragglers that managed to escape and Leon was on hand to fire upon them with his customized handgun.

"Let's just get the fuck out of here," the hitman shouted as he tapped the cop's good shoulder and motioned for him to follow, climbing onto the platform leading to the double doors and stomping one of the baby spiders into mush along the way. _"As if I needed to be further reminded why I hate spiders so much," _he thought with a shudder.

The two men entered the main sewage control room and slammed the doors hard behind them.

"That was just too fucking messed up," Leon gasped as he collapsed against the nearby wall, breathing heavily and struggling to calm his nerves.

"Don't have to fucking tell me twice," Jake replied, fighting the urge to vomit as he looked off to the side and halted.

Much to his shock, something was amiss right away.

"_Where is she?" _he asked himself.

He looked to the very spot where Annette had landed only now to find she had disappeared.

"_But how?" _he mentally asked. That fall had to have broken a few bones with the angle she landed at, at least something that should have knocked her out cold for a few hours. Again the questions came flooding to his mind. Did something or somebody come along and snatch her up, or was she just driven by some kind of weird psycho power?

"_Wonder if she could have had this 'G-Virus' in her system as well," _Jake thought to himself, remembering what he had overheard from her conversation with Ada.

"Looks like there's no way to reach the higher level," Leon said examining a nearby hole on a control panel, "We'd need a valve handle or something to lower that bridge and let us cross."

"Maybe we can find another way," Jake said as he pointed to a plain looking door with a green light overhead, "Wonder where that leads to?"

"Guess we won't know until we try," the cop replied as they made their way over to the door and Leon made his way in first.

An empty, yet sinister-looking tunnel awaited them on the other side and Jake looked over to Leon, "How are you holding up? Is your bullet wound still bothering you?"

"A little, but I think I'll manage," Leon replied with a thumbs up gesture.

"If you want, I'll take the lead," Jake suggested.

"Sure," was all the rookie offered and motioned for his companion to continue forth.

The two men made their way around the corner and approached another blast door and Jake pushed a nearby button to raise the door.

"Phew! Stinks worse than that fat pig Irons in here," was the hitman's first response upon opening the door and staring into a dump area where layer upon layer of drenched garbage piled together like two separate islands. At the opposite side of the room was a platform where they spotted another familiar face firing into the water.

"Ada!" Jake shouted to the woman, who quickly stopped what she was doing.

"Jake, watch out!"

Looking down, the sullied water suddenly began to bubble and an oblong shadow materialized beneath. What almost sounded like an underwater explosion emanated from the depths.

"Leon, get back!" Jake ordered and went to slam the button that would lower the blast door.

Before he could do so, a titanic-sized set of jaws rose from the depths and massive incisors attempted to clamp down upon the human morsel, but Jake had managed to throw himself backward and barely managed to avoid being swallowed whole.

"As if things couldn't get any weirder," he grunted as he hugged his back to the wall, feeling himself pushed back even farther as he was met by a deafening roar and a putrid wave that forced him to gag.

Emerging from the dump was a gigantic alligator about the size of a battle tank or even bigger at about 50 fifty feet in length. The blood of previous victims still stained its teeth and it was now looking for its next meal.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jake cursed as he fired a volley into the mutant's snout. Small splotches of infected blood dotted the alligator's hide, but didn't faze it at all. Unimpeded, it began crawling out after the fleeing hitman, who kept firing at it hoping to lure it back towards the entrance, long enough to buy Ada some time in her escape.

The world shook around Jake as the creature roared behind him and easily advanced with every step it took in spite of the confined quarters. It was just inches away from biting into his back as he rounded the corner, where a perplexed Leon stared at the abomination chasing after his companion.

It was also here that he noticed a gas canister attached to the nearby wall and a button over it labeled "CANISTER RELEASE." Diving towards the wall, he threw his hand out and slammed the button down, hoping the creature would be stupid enough to think it was a snack.

"Leon, when that thing bites into the canister, shoot it! Please, just do as I say!" Jake ordered as he threw himself behind the rookie cop and fumbled to reload his assault rifle.

The stalwart rookie stood tall trying to disguise his anxiety as he shared his companion's idea, hoping they weren't underestimating the kind of intelligence it could have possessed. Remembering his days of target practice from the academy, the officer withdrew his customized VP70 and focused on the cylinder as if a huge bull's eye had just appeared upon it.

"_Keep your back straight, take a deep breath and loosen up before you aim for the center," _his training officer had always told him and he repeated it to himself over and over again to recapture the more relaxed mood of the training course, which was like Disneyland compared to this hellhole.

Like Jake had assumed, the alligator grabbed the canister with its vile teeth and tried chewing on the flammable object, denting its surface. With the canister stuck firmly between the gator's incisors the cop made his move.

Taking a deep breath he pulled the trigger and struck the canister head on.

A resounding boom followed that knocked both men backwards and in a bright flash of reddish-orange light, the upper half of the mutated alligator's head was blown to pieces, leaving the rest of its limp smoking carcass taking up the tunnel.

"Damn, I don't think I'll ever eat southern cooking again after this ordeal," Leon coughed as he rose into a sitting position. Jake was next to him slowly rising back to his feet and holding his head to settle his nerves.

"Come on, we'd better see if Ada made it out alright," the hired gun replied as he brushed carefully past the gator's smoking remains and rushing back to the dumping area.

"My goodness, you're both alright," Ada cried out in joy as the two men stood side by side.

"Yeah, thanks to Jake and Claire," the cop smiled as he looked down to his bloodied bandage before turning to the hitman, "You really saved my life back there. I owe you once we get out of this mess."

"Don't mention it. We've gotta stick together however we can and do whatever we can for one another," Jake replied, also looking to the bandage wrapped around his companion, a testament to the noble sacrifice which his job called for.

"I just found out; John's dead, he became one of those zombies," the woman reported, sadly looking down to her own reflection in the murky water.

"What?" Leon gasped. Jake silently bowed his head.

"Never mind, there's nothing anyone can do about it. Let's just get out of here. The sooner the better," Ada spoke and then leapt into the water trudging as quickly as she could towards the two men and within seconds they were walking past the alligator's remains, through the main control room and were back in the main sewer system standing before a waterfall and a weird contraption on the wall near it with the engravings of an eagle and a wolf beneath those two slots.

"That wolf engraving looks exactly like the one from this medal," Jake told his companions as he withdrew the 'Silver Wolf' medallion. Taking a deep breath, he gently slid the medal into its designated slot and nothing happened.

"Hey, I found a medal just like that on the body of the sewer manager in that control room," the woman spoke as she pulled out a gold medallion with an eagle engraved upon its surface. Approaching the console she slid the medal into the remaining empty slot and this time, a loud beep was heard.

Looking to their left, they watched as the waterfall gradually began to dissipate and behind it, a rusted red door stood alone.

"Here goes nothing," Jake whispered to himself, knowing he was one step closer to the Umbrella research facility.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Unbeknownst to the survivors, they were being watched from a distance again by the ever resilient monstrosity that was formerly William Birkin, fresh off the heels of battle with an unknown woman who carried the scent of his daughter.

"Sher…" the beast tried to grunt, but the mass of warped flesh surrounding its mouth prevented it from uttering the girl's name.

He also recognized the scent of the one who had murdered one of his offspring.

The scars of battle decorated the former researcher's already mangled hide as large portions of his skin had been blown away by her grenade launcher and only now had they slowly began to regenerate. A constant tremble flowed throughout the mutant's body, indicating it was closer to yet another transformation.

Soon, he would become even more animalistic; losing what traces of humanity had remained.

Thoughts of primordial rage clouded the pernicious entity's mind and it could only think of the mysterious human it had battled back in the waste disposal plant, the same man who had managed to wound and seemingly knock it to its death. That was his scent he inhaled, the fragrance of an insolent being who would soon meet Death at his massive claws.

Stepping out of the shadows, the beast stomped on the corpse of a Licker who had previously attacked it and moved down the tunnel slashing through anything that stood in its way.

The creature could sense the path the three humans were taking and it would use its remaining human cunning to perform a surprise sneak attack.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: The reference I make to 'Hives' is meant to be a spoof of the 'Alien' series and the scene where Dustin Burchill's chest explodes due to the baby spiders is also homage to that series as well. Come to think of it, I also did make somewhat of a classic 'Star Trek' reference when I had Jake saying "Damn it. I'm a hitman, not an exterminator," all I was missing was somebody around named Jim.

Well that's it for now so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	37. Ch 36: A Demon Renewed

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 36: A Demon Renewed

With the push of a few buttons, the tram's engine hummed with life.

"Man, the suits at Umbrella must be swimming in a freaking ocean of hundred dollar bills in order to build something as elaborate as this," Jake whistled staring at the tram, which looked like an enormous lunchbox that would be capable of holding about ten to fifteen people. "Secret trams, underground research facilities…if you ask me, they watch too many damned spy movies."

"My goodness, I can only imagine how many of these facilities they must have scattered around the city," Ada spoke looking around inside the tram, which was very plain and had no seats.

"Try throughout the world," Leon said tucking the Remington into the holster on his back and then checking his customized VP70 over one more time. "Umbrella has offices all over the globe. They could literally have hundreds of facilities set up like this. Maybe you're right; maybe this isn't the only one in the city."

Leon made a good point, albeit a scary one. Umbrella, Inc. was the single most powerful organization in not only America, but the entire world as well. The question was how many more hidden research facilities like this could they have concealed in mountaintops, below the earth's surface, or maybe even underwater?

Whatever the case was, it meant they probably had tons of T-Virus samples stockpiled around the globe and even more of the kinds of monsters they had encountered during their stay in Raccoon City, ticking time bombs waiting to go off at any second and unleash every seemingly impossible fear in the passage of a few hours. He had to wonder if there were even more viruses in development aside from the T and G strains.

_"These arrogant bastards are playing with fire, a kind that will burn more than just themselves if they drop the match," _Jake thought as he entered the tram last, the doors closing behind him followed by Leon pushing the button that would take them to the transport facility.

The three battered survivors sat down now that they had finally been given some time to relax after countless hours of running and combating a seemingly endless amount of monsters. Jake himself sunk into a sitting position next to Ada with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily and feeling his head loll to the side like he was about to pass out, but quickly caught himself and stretched out his limbs.

"So, what do you all plan on doing once you get out of this mess?" Leon asked from across them, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Jake replied with the M4A1 resting closely at his side, ready to fight the second they reached their destination.

"Definitely a warm bath and a warm meal," Ada sighed looking down at her dress which had now been ruined from trudging around in the sewer water. "With John dead I figure it might take me a while before I can find someone else. You don't just grow close to someone overnight unfortunately."

"Now that you mention it, I'll definitely be up for getting drunk and getting laid once I'm out of here," Jake smirked, earning him a punch from Ada to his cut arm. Pain shot through his wounded limb, but he held back a cry and shot a filthy look of his own back to the woman.

"Thinking with your dick already, are you?" the woman hissed towards him, narrowing her almond-colored eyes at him. "Typical red-blooded American male I see. Always thinking about sex at the most inopportune of times, at least John was a well-cultured gentleman."

"Lighten up lady, sheesh," Jake shot back unafraid of the strike that would probably follow.

"Well, doesn't either one of you have a family outside?" Leon asked trying to distract them from a possible altercation. "I know my parents and little sister will be dying to hear from me once we make it out of here."

The mention of family stopped the hired gun and he sat back powerless to say anything. A family was something he no longer had; his closest relatives were dead, institutionalized or missing and he had heard nothing from them since the 'incident' six years ago.

_"I really need to go back and visit Mom's grave one of these days," _he thought to himself, bowing his head in remembrance of his mother, the only parent he truly cared about. His father was an abusive prick and he could burn in Hell for all the hitman cared. He would have to find a way to sneak back into Somerset, knowing he was still a wanted there for what he did.

"Do you think you will be able to visit your family when this is over?" Ada asked the rookie officer. "Umbrella has connections all over the world; don't you think they'll be in danger if the company knows you survived?"

Leon again looked down to his gun, "If any of those bastards go near my family I swear I will kill every single one of them or die trying."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The former William Birkin watched the moving tram from the rafters above, ready to strike. Thanks to his enhanced senses, he could tell the three humans from the sewers were inside, including the man he had battled before.

It was payback time and it would have the humans' blood.

Using its enhanced strength, the mutant leapt high into the air towards the moving tram.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ahhhh!" Jake cried as the tram rocked violently and he was thrown forward against the door, the surface rattling under his muscular frame. Both Leon and Ada were knocked to the floor and thrown about as something large landed atop the tram.

"What was that?" Leon cried out crawling over and grabbing his shotgun. Both Ada and Jake knelt down to the floor knowing they were in danger judging by the indents in the steel roofing.

A large rend opened in the tram's exterior as a large claw drove through the surface and swiped wildly towards the inhabitants.

"Fuck!" Jake shouted falling backward and raising his M4A1. The claws ended just inches above his chest and they clicked together as they attempted to swipe him, barely scratching the nylon surface of his flak vest. When the claw raised a little, he let loose a barrage on the mutated appendage, rolling out of the way before more inflected blood could rain down upon him. Leon and Ada joined in firing upon the arm before forcing it to withdraw.

"Stay low!" Jake shouted placing a hand on the cop's shoulder to keep him down. Ada had fallen to her side and waved her Browning around not knowing where the arm could pop through next.

Another loud crash sounded as the claw tore through the metallic roof and found itself flailing just inches above the two men. Ada quickly returned fire, expending the rest of her clip before she was forced to reload, but by then Leon and Jake joined in and scared the claw away again.

"How much damage do we have to dish out against this freak?" Ada asked from her crouched position.

"Too damn much," Leon retorted with his shotgun pointed towards the ceiling. Jake sat silently on one knee trying to listen for any movement above the groaning and whistling of machinery. They had to get the attacking beast off before it could bring down the tram with all of them in it.

The monstrous claw came tearing through above where Ada stood, knocking her from her feet, but not before she managed to fire a round into the elongated limb and spray a fountain of blood onto the floor. Jake peppered the clawed arm with some hot metal, leaving an opening for Leon to step up and fire a point blank blast into the appendage and break off one of its lengthy claws.

A terrible cry of pain resounded throughout the tunnel and the three survivors watched as purplish-black blood drenched the windows, leaving them unable to see outside. They lay close to the floor with weapons drawn, anticipating another attack and waiting a few tense minutes until the hiss of hydraulics indicated they had reached their stop and automatically the doors slid open.

"Do you think it's gone?" Ada asked as she tensely pointed her gun towards the entrance.

"I don't know, but we'll have to get moving if the creep is still nearby," Leon replied slowly rising to his feet, but keeping in a crouch walk position in case the monster decided to poke its claw through again.

Jake remained silent as he listened for any additional sounds from the creature, wary that it could still be nearby. "I'll go," he spoke up and crouch walked out of the tram with gun ready and flashlight attachment blazing in the darkness.

His light immediately shone upon a large green mounted flare gun and then caught glimpse of a flashing object nearby. Kneeling down to pick it up, it was revealed to be a weapons box key for _'Umbrella Research Outpost A-1.'_

_"We are close by after all," _Jake said to himself, _"Could explain why Birkin is so close right now."_

"Find anything?" Leon asked stepping out with shotgun drawn and looking around carefully for any possible attackers.

Jake raised the key to him, "We must be close to the research facility," he said offering the key to the officer.

"Great, maybe we can find incriminating evidence to help put those deceptive bastards away," Ada said entering the platform and making her way towards a steel door she saw at the end.

"Are you sure you want to go through after all the shit you've seen at the station?" Leon asked, remembering the woman's horrified reaction when she first encountered a Licker.

"I'll be fine," she replied, "It's almost as if you become desensitized to those freaks once you've been around them long enough, sad to say."

"Still no reason to get too comfy," Jake answered.

An army of abominations would faze any normal person, but now it had become commonplace in Raccoon City. The hitman himself had been unsettled by what he saw, but he had gradually found himself becoming desensitized to all the violence and nightmarish creations around him. To him, it wasn't much of a far cry from his battles on the streets with rival gangs.

At the same time he did what he could to maintain some sense of caution. He had learned the weak points of most of the critters encountered, but still wondered if they were capable of doing anything else to surprise him. It was that realization that kept him in check.

"_Whatever the case is, it definitely seems odd to me. Doesn't seem possible how an ordinary woman could go from scared to stone cold killer in such a short amount of time, unless she's had experience killing before," _Jake thought as Leon led the way to the door and looked back to his two companions before easing it open and creeping inside.

A sparsely-lit hallway awaited the survivors, appearing empty at first, but a faint moan from nearby brought them to a halt and Jake took the lead shining his light towards the end, where a zombie in casual street clothes stumbled into view. With a pull of his trigger, the zombie fell over dead a second later. Several more moans soon followed, "I guess our rotting friend didn't come alone," he whispered back to his companions and began cautiously moving forth.

Reaching the end of the T-intersection, two zombies came from both sides, leaving Ada and Leon to deal with those approaching from the left while Jake took the attackers from the right. Within seconds the zombies were ripped apart by 9mm and 5.56 rounds and left in pools of their own blood.

"Search the hall down there," Leon ordered and motioned for Ada to follow him, "We'll take this route and see if we can find anything of interest."

Jake nodded and shouldered his rifle, withdrawing his silenced Beretta and made his way around the two sprawled out bodies. Another corner awaited the hitman and he walked around only to have another cool hand grip onto his shoulder.

A virus-riddled factory worker attempted to pull him closer, but the still-living human anticipated something like this could happen and brought his free arm up to grab his opponent's arm and squeezed hard enough to snap his wrist. With his extra strength, he bent the zombie's arm backward with another sickening crack. Relying upon superior flexibility, Jake spun his entire body around while still holding onto his attacker's broken arm and raised his right leg, bringing his foot down onto the back of his enemy's rotting head. The force knocked the undead man forward and separated his arm from the rest of his body and the hired gun finished him off with a stomp that squashed his skull into a mushy mess.

"Don't think I don't know you freaks like playing hide and seek," Jake spat as he knelt down to scoop up his silenced pistol and noticed the door behind him.

He opened the door only to find two more zombies feasting on the remnants of a factory worker with a large pipe wrench in hand and finished them each with silenced rounds to their craniums. More agonized moans came from around the corners and Jake began knocking on the walls hoping to lure the cadavers towards him.

"Come to me you bitches," he murmured inching along the wall with gun raised high until the first zombie ambled around the corner. Raising its arms as it laid eyes upon him, it would fall back a second later with a round between the eyes.

A second zombie appeared, falling forward with a bullet to its right temple before it could even turn to face him, followed by a third carrier who would find its nose destroyed by another round sailing through.

Despite wasting three zombies, still more moaning came from around the corner. He raced to find another zombie crawling towards him with a crowbar sticking out of its back, piercing its spinal cord. Jake ended the final zombie's suffering with a well-placed round through its right eye and it fell face down, never to rise again.

With the zombie threat temporarily neutralized, Jake searched around to find more green herbs and then rounded another corner to find a ladder leading up. Pulling out his radio he spoke, "Leon, come in! I've just found our way out of here. Follow the trail of bodies and you'll find me."

"_Uh sure…we're on our way," _Leon replied.

Within minutes Leon and Ada appeared and the three survivors scaled the ladder to find themselves in a small control room that must have doubled as an armory for some desperate survivors that may have attempted to take refuge here.

There were enough handgun bullets to divide evenly amongst them, as well as some shotgun shells and clips for Leon, and a few speed loaders, 5.56 clips and explosive shells for Jake. Three cans of first-aid spray were also left for the trio. Freshly restocked they decided it was time to leave.

Stepping outside, the trio was greeted by the cool breeze of the early autumn air and found themselves in what looked like a factory overhang and before them stood something they didn't expect.

On a set of rails sat a 1930's-era yellow and reddish-orange train car in the center of an octagon-shaped platform. It was out in the open where the bluish-black nighttime sky was dotted with narrow clouds and the full moon shone brightly and prominently, a mocking omen of death to those who still survived in Raccoon City. How Jake Cavanaugh would ever be able to look at a full moon the same way again once he made it out of this mess was another mystery.

A small control panel stood near the train's rear entrance and Leon tried figuring out how it started. The young cop sighed in frustration and pounded his fist against the panel, "We need a key, but where? I didn't see any in the office back there."

"Maybe it's inside the tram," Ada spoke up as she climbed onto the back platform and tested the door to see if it was open. The bulletproofed steel door opened with ease and she disappeared inside, Leon following closely behind.

Inside, it was sparsely furnished, with two long benches on opposite sides that could hold up to eight people at the most and an old toilet fixture whose only protection from potential gawking passengers was a curtain. A large speaker sat in one of the ceiling corners and on the wall across from the hitman was a map listing all Umbrella locations within Raccoon City, as well as surrounding communities like Eagle Point, Springvale, Oak Hill, Canter and many others. Sickened by the sight of so many Umbrella facilities, Jake pushed through to the control area.

The small control area was barely able to hold his muscular form, most of its space taken up by a swivel chair bolted to the metal floor and a small refrigerator which contained a few half-empty liquor bottles.

"_Heh, if Umbrella's employees don't have problems with making destructive viruses, then they certainly have problems with drinking on the job," _he mused knowing this was no time to get drunk, fighting his craving for an ice cold one right now.

A slight glimmer caught his attention and he turned to find a red-tipped key with a yellow tag that had a large black 'D' printed on it. "Hey, I think I found what you're looking for!" he called out and brushed past the other two survivors, who had by now taken seats on the benches across from each other.

Stepping back into the cool midnight breeze, Jake was now greeted by the sound of crows cawing in the distance and leapt down onto the platform, hoping to get out of there before he could be on the receiving end of another kamikaze attack. Rushing over to the control panel, he slid the key into the slot and turned it.

A vertical row of green lights flickered to life and a large red button began flashing, the signal that they were ready to depart. Now able to hear the sound of flapping wings getting closer, Jake slammed the button down.

A loud air horn began blaring in the darkness, resounding throughout the entire industrial district where it was positioned. "So much for subtlety," Jake grunted as he pulled himself onto the train car's platform and threw himself back inside slamming the door behind him.

Leon and Ada looked uneasily at the man wondering what could have driven his hasty movement, but he only looked back to them and flatly replied, "Going down."

The hiss of hydraulics called out, followed by the clatter of machinery as the platform began its descent.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The hollow rattle of machinery and bright red lights flashing around him made Jake Cavanaugh feel as if he were descending into the bowels of Hell itself.

In a sense he was probably right.

He remembered the entries from the deceased Dr. Ramsey's diary and recalled how the man described being surrounded by horrific beasts that were not supposed to exist. For almost six long, grueling days now the hired gun had been fighting those very creatures and had come close to dying more than once.

His mission was to eliminate the Umbrella researcher William Birkin and it was the promise of ten million dollars in cold, hard cash that kept him in the crumbling nightmare of a city. Now his target had mutated into something ten times more frightening than an ordinary zombie or Hunter ever could have become.

He wanted to believe that their encounter back at the waste disposal facility would have been their last, but the assault on the tram had shattered that illusion. It left him wondering if it was possible for a mutant to understand the concept of wanting revenge for the beating he had dished out earlier.

A sense of betrayal had been eating away at him from the moment he had learned of Dr. Birkin's mutation.

This 'mysterious benefactor' of his had lied to him and he was determined that if he ever met this person face to face, he would make them suffer for thrusting him into this mess. Whether or not this individual expected an outbreak of this magnitude to occur he did not know, but whoever this person was, he or she was probably some arrogant prick who was likely no better than the higher-ups at Umbrella.

For once he was beginning to question whether or not he had made the right decision in accepting this assignment and wondering if even such an exorbitant amount of money would be worth all the pain and suffering he had endured in the end, especially the mental and emotional scarring he was likely to suffer afterwards.

Then again, he thought of what else he was going up against.

Just being around the pharmaceutical company's insane creations and seeing what they had done firsthand was causing him to develop a hatred for Umbrella in general.

Jake might not have been one of 'the good guys,' but he felt the pain of those who had perished and could practically hear their tortured souls screaming out for vengeance. Those people deserved to be avenged for the great wrongs that had been committed against them and the hitman himself would be the bloody hand of karma coming back to haunt their killers.

The thought of higher-up Umbrella figures like William Birkin and their other faceless 'Inner Circle' members literally getting away with murder made his blood boil. In many senses he wasn't much different from those butchers, but he never struck out against the innocent on purpose and avoided them as much as he possibly could.

He could recall an instance where a member of a rival gang had slaughtered an entire family of innocents who had witnessed one of his crimes. The heinous act reminded him much of his own broken family and the innocent who were lost.

Risking his own personal safety and a possible incident between his employers and their rivals, Jake tracked the gang member down and shot him to death much as he had done to the family.

Justice would eventually come to capture those responsible for this mess, and unlike civilized society, none of them would receive a fair trial in a court of law. The Red Dragon would serve as judge, jury and executioner, proving that you didn't always have to be a virtuous knight in shining armor to exact justice upon the true evildoers.

"_Street justice is the only justice," _he thought to himself, a lesson his older brother had taught him years earlier, _"With all the lawyers, bribes and other red tape to get around, those who truly are guilty could be in the courtroom one day and relaxing on a beach in the Bahamas the next. Money talks and bullshit walks, but a few rounds to the skull never fail you," _his brother's words echoed in his mind.

Jake pulled out the photo he had been given of William Birkin, back when he was still an ordinary human.

"_You were an arrogant bastard Birkin and look what it got you," _he thought, having seen the abomination he had become thanks to his own creation.

The man paid the price because he tried to play God, a scenario all too familiar to him having seen similar occurrences in movies, video games and comics. This was reality and it was playing out just as it had in the world of make believe: a single man had brought down an entire community down with him and destroyed himself in the process and for what? His own selfish, misguided ambitions for godhood!

"_Not only that, a woman lost her husband and a little girl lost her father," _Jake told himself as he folded the picture up and spun around on the swivel chair looking back to the passenger area where Leon and Ada sat on opposite sides talking quietly amongst themselves.

He noticed how the two seemed to get along better now that things smoothed out a little between them and started looking more intensely towards one another like feelings were developing between them.

"_Huh, well look at that, coming onto her a little too fast aren't you?" _he thought, _"Next thing you know they'll probably be getting married, having a few rugrats of their own and moving to some nice house in the suburbs," _he sarcastically chuckled to himself, _"that is if she doesn't kill him first. She's got 'black widow' written all over her, but his own hormones look to be clouding his judgment," _he thought as he leaned back in the chair and turned towards the controls before him.

Romance wasn't something he could be thinking about right now, especially not after _'her'_ he thought as shivers traveled down his spine.

A violent tremor shook the entire platform and jarred the contract killer from his thoughts. Looking back to the passenger area, he was shocked to see a giant claw shoot through the wall and a wave of blood splash followed by Ada crumpling to the floor lifelessly.

It was the same claw that had attacked them on the sky tram and it had come back to haunt them. _"Has Birkin caught up with us already?" _Jake asked himself. He had to find out.

"Ada! Ada!" Leon cried out as he cradled the injured woman in his arms. Raising the unconscious woman, they finally managed to get a good look at her injuries.

A large gash had been torn across her midsection and was leaking out blood at a rapid pace. Noting the severity of the wound, Jake quickly laid out some nearby towels onto the bench she had been resting on and helped the rookie cop lift her onto it. Leon grabbed some of the towels and began applying pressure to her fresh wound while the hitman pulled out a can of his first-aid spray and offered it to him.

Leon snatched her wrist and felt for a pulse, "She's still alive, but she's weak," the cop reported looking up to Jake with a fearful gaze.

The same ear-splitting roar that could only be tied to William Birkin sounded once again; threatening to ruin both men's hearing and bring the ceiling down upon them. Leon was about to rush outside when he was stopped by Jake's iron grip clamping down on his wrist.

"Let me handle this. I have a score to settle with this freak," Jake spoke as he drew the magnum from his shoulder holster. "Worry about her, she's going to need someone to look after her."

Leon stared intently toward him before replying, "Be careful."

Jake cautiously approached the backdoor pointing in all directions before stepping down to the metal surface and treading quietly. The loud clatter of machinery muted out the smaller sounds and forced him to rely more upon his eyes, already hampered by the lack of light in the massive tunnel with only occasional flashes from the floodlights briefly illuminating the platform.

"Come on out wherever you are," he muttered training his gun along the train car's roof and stopping suddenly when he spotted a large silhouette.

"You!" he shouted to the shadowy figure, which stared upon him with glowing red eyes and made a weird gurgling noise. Stepping into the light, the creature revealed itself as the same hulking brute from before, but it had now grown several inches in height and was much bulkier with a new head and five foot long claws protruding from where its right hand should have been, minus the one that had been blown off by Leon.

"Birkin," Jake growled towards the giant and trained a shot on its new 'head.' The mutant snarled back at him before letting out a more humanly cry of pain as it began to convulse.

Looking like it was about to grow again, the mutant's flesh began to stretch and bubble beneath the surface until the tearing of tissue sounded and with a hollow groan, all of the skin was ripped away from the monster's body.

Jake stood silently with his aim never wavering as he watched the former researcher mutate into something far more hideous than before.

Once the transformation was complete, William Birkin now stood ten feet tall and had lost any of his former human features, now covered in masses of blackish-purple, reddish-brown, pink and dark blue skin with numerous tumors and scales. Two additional arms had sprouted from the beast's shoulders, ending with jagged three foot long claws that hungered to slice its adversary into tiny strips.

"You're still one ugly motherfucker," Jake smirked and began firing round after round into the creature's chest.

The painful rounds hammered into the G-Monster's chest and it was nearly knocked from its perch, but it caught its balance and let out another mighty howl before leaping down to the platform and began thrashing its claws madly in the assassin's direction.

Jake was still far enough from the creature as he reloaded and now concentrated on its head, splattering large portions of blood, tissue and brain matter all over the surrounding metal. The Tyrant was knocked backwards again, but almost immediately shrugged the attack off and charged towards him with claws extended and back arms raised.

"Fuck," Jake grunted as he rolled underneath one of the mutant's lower arms, dodging a swipe that could have left a nasty gash or worse on his back. Rising to his feet he raised his magnum and began firing into his attacker's back, focusing on its pointy spinal column. The cartridges impacted the beast slightly and it crumbled forward a bit before it pushed itself back to its feet.

"_Yeah, I know beating your ugly ass won't be easy, but if I beat you once before I sure as hell can do it again," _the hitman thought to himself as he scanned his surroundings for any possible environmental hazards he could exploit against his adversary.

Right now he was fighting in the cramped quarters of an octagonal-shaped platform with a train car taking up most of the space, hindering his ability to move quickly and wouldn't grant him much space for dodging attacks.

Also, with Leon and Ada still inside the tram, he would not be able to use any explosives for risk of injuring them. It looked as though he would have to rely upon striking the beast at whatever critical locations he could find.

"_I always did love a good challenge," _Jake thought as the Tyrant grunted loudly and slowly turned while taking shot after shot from its opponent in its clawed arms. The powerful rounds showed significant impact and knocked the extra appendages backward, but did little to deter its advance, its anger rising to greater levels. With a stomp to the metal surface, the creature shot one of its back arms forth, ending just inches in front of the hitman's face.

Jake leaned backward to avoid the razor sharp claws and fire another round into the clawed hand, forcing the beast to let out another roar of pain as it drew the limb back to attack him with its additional appendages. One of the slashes caught his pant leg and another from his vest, tearing chunks of fabric, but missing his skin as well.

"_That was close. If I'm not the luckiest son of a bitch in the world then I don't know what the hell I am," _Jake told himself as he squeezed off a few more rounds on the Tyrant's head and chest, knocking it backwards. With his enemy temporarily distracted, the hired gun hefted himself onto the car's side and pulled himself to the roof.

"_He'll probably be able to reach me up here, but for now I'm gonna have some fun shooting that large ugly eye of his," _he thought as he stared at the large red eye sticking out of its upper arm. The evil organ stared at him intently, its black pupil contracting as it focused on him. Apparently the eye could actually see him and it twitched as if it anticipated his plans. He remembered how the monster visibly weakened when struck in that same point from their earlier confrontation and he cocked the magnum's hammer back after loading a fresh speed loader.

With a thunderous crack, the bullet hammered into the large eye and caused it to blink rapidly, spraying more pink fluid into the air. The Tyrant was visibly affected and began flailing madly trying to pat the injured orb. Jake smiled with this result and fired more rounds into the giant's extra eye, forcing it to scream even louder in pain.

Unfortunately, the B.O.W.'s gut-wrenching screams had become too deafening for the hitman and he was forced to clamp his hands over his ears, his head and neck throbbing as they felt the vibrations and threatened to explode.

"Damn…you…" he muttered, not hearing his own words as the horrible cry blocked out everything else. The pain was so excruciating he didn't register the claw striking the metal near his left foot and it was only when he opened his eyes again he noticed the behemoth before him, breathing down upon him.

Knowing it would probably warrant another brain clamping cry from the creature, but not having another choice; Jake fired again into the giant eye and sent his attacker stumbling backward. "That's right, back off fuckhead!" he shouted as he fired more rounds into the giant organ before he was forced to reload.

Lowering himself back to the platform, Jake rounded the train and fired a few more potshots at the hobbling monstrosity. He sighed to himself realizing he was getting dangerously low on his magnum ammo and would have to find more in case he wanted to survive another possible encounter with this freak afterwards.

He remembered the danger of possibly using explosives in such an enclosed area, but once again he was out of options.

Removing the M4A1 once again from its holster, he checked to make sure the M-203 attachment was loaded and took aim. He could only hope the train car's exterior would be sturdy enough to withstand the explosions.

"Now where were we?" he mockingly asked the abomination.

The Tyrant growled in reply, approaching with hind arms raised in the air, stalking him slowly and silently hoping to intimidate its prey into surrender. Little did it know, the word 'surrender' was not part of its opponent's vocabulary.

Jake flicked off the rifle's safety and began firing streams wherever he could on the mutant's body before launching an explosive shell into its upper half. The small explosion had scorched the tram's metallic surface, but did not penetrate; meaning Leon and Ada would be safe for now. He fired a few more explosive shells into his approaching adversary and drove a few more bullets into its large extra eye.

Cuts suddenly began opening all over its slimy surface and gushed buckets of that all too common purplish-black blood onto the metal surface around it, creating a hazard for the beast itself as it struggled towards is opponent.

Taking note of his adversary's predicament, Jake fired an explosive shell into one of its legs, leaping backwards as the Tyrant dropped to the surface and left a deep indention where it landed. The round blew away most of its flesh and nearly severed the limb, but almost immediately the charred flesh began to regenerate and within seconds the towering behemoth resumed its hunt.

Jake continued firing away at the area surrounding the monster's large third eye and its head continuing to slow it down and backing up further to avoid its attempted swipes. The Tyrant was now visibly weakening as its rear arms lowered and it limped towards him, blood still gushing down its surface.

"_Finally," _Jake thought to himself as he ejected another clip from the M4A1 and ran back to load a fresh one. He raised his gun to fire again when the shatter of glass sounded and flames enveloped most of the giant's backside. Another wine bottle was chucked at the Tyrant from behind and the spread of flames grew as the projectile made contact. Horrible screams followed as the beast fought against the fire and its diseased blood seemed to only accelerate the rate at which its body burned.

Booms from a shotgun sounded and the Tyrant turned its attention away from the hitman and towards the back of the train, where Leon stood firing away furiously at the behemoth's frame.

"It's eye! Try to aim for its extra eye!" Jake screamed over the crackling flames as he took aim and fired another explosive shell into the Tyrant's shoulder, inches away from its extra eye. The mutant staggered and was close to falling off the platform as the two men continued pumping it full of lead, the hitman firing explosive rounds upon the creature while Leon followed blasting away with his now customized shotgun.

The Tyrant was gradually knocked backward with every blast and within seconds it was against the railing, the skin of its back tearing away as it brushed against the moving wall behind it.

Fishing through his side pack for any extra explosives, he found he was now down to one and looked up to see Leon firing mercilessly into the mutant's smoldering body, depleting most of his shotgun shells, sweat dripping off every inch of his exposed skin and making it difficult for him to hold his powerful weapon as the beast pressed forth in spite of its weakened state.

Hefting the rifle up one last time, Jake trained his sights on his target and taking a deep breath, fired his final shell into the back of the creature's shoulder.

A loud explosion followed and the Tyrant let out one final tortured cry before collapsing to the cold metal platform and staying down for good.

Sighing in tired victory, Leon collapsed against the train and Jake rushed over to check on his weary companion, shifting his gaze back and forth between him and the fallen Tyrant. Staring at the prone monster for a few minutes it was with great caution he turned to face him, "Are you alright?"

"I should be fine now that we've got that freak down," the cop replied uneasily staring at their fallen adversary, still burning from the flames of his Molotov cocktails.

"I don't know if that asshole's down for the count yet," Jake replied as he helped the officer back to his feet, "How is Ada doing? Did you manage to get her stabilized?"

"She's still unconscious, but I think I've managed to stop the bleeding," Leon replied, grunting as he hoisted himself onto the platform and then pushed the back door open. Inside Ada still lay on the bench where she had been left, unconscious with her side heavily bandaged. The towels covering her wounds were saturated with blood, a few small streams seeping out around the bandages, but otherwise her wound had mostly clotted by now.

The loud clicking of the platform locking into place resounded seconds later, indicating they had finally reached their destination. Jake knew the downed Tyrant was still outside and opened the back door. "Get Ada and let's get moving. I'll wait out here and make sure that freak doesn't wake up again."

Jake stepped back onto the platform where the downed Tyrant still lay unconscious, the flames on its body gradually dying out. A tense feeling ran through his battered body as he stared down upon his fallen adversary, no telling when it would rise again to hunt him down.

Obviously this monster could not be dealt with through the usage of conventional firearms and if those couldn't help then what could? Would he have to pump so many volts of electricity through its body? Would he have to systematically cut it open and rip out its internal organs? Would he have to drop it into a vat of toxic sludge? Or would he just have to drop a damned nuke on it? There had to be some way to completely eradicate this menace.

The back door swung open again and Leon emerged cradling the wounded Ada, waiting for Jake to get near them and handed the unconscious woman to Jake as he stepped down and then retook her as they made their way towards an open area and to the nearest room they could find. They would need to rest up a bit before continuing their journey.

However, the hitman could not stop thinking about the defeated relentless killing machine that lay behind them in a pool of its own diseased blood, a ticking time bomb waiting to rise at any given second.

The only question in his mind now is would he have enough ammunition the next time he encountered the beast? This latest battle had depleted the entire stock of explosive rounds for his M-203, as well as most of his rifle and magnum ammo. Not only that, with the other monsters running around this facility, was it possible he would have enough ammo left for them?

"Jake, I need your help here!"

He turned to find Leon standing near a door labeled _"SECURITY" _and unable to get the door open due to the burden he bore in his tired arms. Pain crossed the younger man's features, indicating the stress was causing his bullet wound to act up again.

"Sure hold on," Jake replied and rushed over to open the door as Leon carried the injured woman inside. Taking one last look around, he closed the door behind them and locked it.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: And so ends another chapter of "Reborn" where our favorite antihero emerges with a 2 – 0 record against ol' Billy B! Oh well, we're just between rounds so they're both in the middle of being patched up right now and yelled at by their corner men.

Tune in for the next installment where Jake ventures further into the Umbrella research facility and more secrets are revealed in future installments.

Until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	38. Ch 37: Entering the Devil's Playground

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 37: Entering the Devil's Playground

It had been over half an hour since Jake and his two companions had arrived at Umbrella's research outpost, its existence up until now known only to the highest level researchers.

The survivors were locked away in a security office, where they had found a cot to rest the wounded Ada upon and the two men raided a refrigerator for a quick late night snack, a small miracle they had carried on long enough to enjoy another meal. In addition to the food, they had managed to scrounge up some extra ammo for their respective weapons.

By now Ada was stirring back into consciousness and Leon knelt protectively over her.

Jake ignored their conversation and focused on the abandoned laptop in front of him, trying to find whatever information he possibly could in regard to the goings-on around the facility.

Unfortunately he was not a gifted computer hacker and anything he could open was just some useless file on training and security protocol. He did manage to find a few layouts of the complex and printed maps out for both himself and Leon.

He stood up and returned his attention to Leon, who had risen to his feet and stared warily towards his travel partner.

"We need to find what we can and get out of here as soon as possible," Leon spoke as he returned his attention to the resting woman. "I don't know about you, but if I can't save somebody else, then I honestly don't know if I'll have accomplished anything in this mess or not."

Jake looked deep into the man's eyes and nodded, able to sense the distress within his soul.

"It's better that one person survives than nobody at all. When we make it out of here, there will be an even greater war at hand, the war against an international corporation that probably has even more money than God himself, a corporation that could retaliate against us and sweep it under the rug like nothing ever happened. If you ask me, this is just the beginning," he said looking down to his rifle, a tool that had become his best friend throughout this ordeal.

"You're right," Leon replied, "This is only just the beginning. As large as they are, I doubt Umbrella wouldn't overlook even one of their tiniest research facilities just up and disappearing like that. They're gonna come looking for us if they know we made it out of here alive."

"Well I'm not going to let that stop me from fighting my way out of here and I plan on lying low as soon as that happens," Jake replied as he looked over to Ada, "Might have to go underground. With as big as these guys are, there have to be others out there who have suffered in some form under these bastards and probably want them as badly as we do.

"We'll link up with them and then it's a matter of 'you scratch my back, I scratch your back.' Hopefully they'll have the resources and manpower we need to launch a campaign from the shadows. Nothing full-scale or else they'd mop the floor with us in an instant."

"That's easier said that done," Leon replied as he checked over his shotgun, "How can we know if these 'underground resistance movements' even exist? That sounds too much like something straight out of a B.J. Falkenburg spy novel. More importantly, how could we be certain these underground elements would be on our side? Usually when they're hiding in the shadows like this, it's because they're paranoid as fuck and ready to shoot at anything that moves," the cop continued.

"You gotta have faith Officer," Jake chuckled in an almost patronizing tenor, "No doubt this isn't the first outbreak Umbrella has had to put up with. If a couple of 'average Joes' like us can survive this long, then I'm sure there are probably others out there who were fortunate enough to find a shitload of ammo and other supplies that enabled them to fight their way out."

"Yeah, but then we'd need some means of escape so we can get the hell outta Dodge," Leon added.

"Well it's obvious by now there's not going to be any cavalry passing through to help us out," Jake replied with a sharp stare towards the door, "We're gonna have to find this means of escape by ourselves and we're not going to find it by sitting around here jibber-jabbering all night. I think it's about time we got our asses in high gear."

"Heh can't say that I disagree with you there. Not getting the other amenities we need around here," Leon spoke with a wince, indicating the first-aid spray may have been wearing off, "and if we don't move, they're likely gonna come to us anyway," he said looking up towards a vent.

"Yeah, let's move," Jake said approaching the door and nodded to Leon before easing the door open.

"The fuck?" he hissed.

"What is it?" Leon whispered from behind before looking over his shoulder and seeing what awaited them.

There were eight zombies staggering about in the corridor and all of them were naked, most of their skin having fallen off and still shedding with every step they took.

"Why the hell didn't we hear these guys?" Leon blurted out raising his shotgun and pointing it in their direction.

"We'll worry about that after we do this," Jake replied before firing a round through the cerebral cortex of the one closest to him, its brittle body hitting the metal floor with a clanging thud that drew the attention of the others.

Leon stepped up next to the hitman and dropped another with a dismembering shotgun blast and then disemboweled another in the same rapid fashion.

The hitman took aim and his bullets soared through the air, blowing off the face of one naked zombie and lodging in the throat of a second before firing another burst that struck another in the chest, but did not kill it.

Switching over to his customized VP-70, Leon gunned down the remaining cadavers in rapid succession.

"Oh god, I hope Claire is alright," Leon said pulling out his radio, "She talked about meeting us here. I just hope she found her way here alright…if she's still alive that is," dread filling his last words as he raised the receiver and spoke into it, "Claire! Are you there? Do you copy?"

An eerie static accompanied by some dull clanks followed before a reply came, _"I'm here Leon. Sherry and I have just reached the tram and we were on our way down before the motor overheated and we got stuck. I'm traveling through the bowels right now." _The line went silent for a few seconds and then Claire's youthful voice sounded again, _"Okay, I've just entered some kind of control room. Wait, I see something else-" _she spoke before a loud hiss sounded.

"Claire, can you hear me?" Leon shouted into the radio, "Claire, do you copy?"

A prolonged hiss of static called out before they could faintly make out bits and pieces of the woman's voice.

_"…Leon, I see…some bodies…do you copy…Leon?" _the garbled transmission continued before absolute silence.

"Claire! Speak to me! Claire!" the cop shouted into his radio repeatedly before growling in defeat and struggling not to toss his radio across the hall. "Damn it!"

"It sounds like she must be in an area with a lot of interference," Jake replied.

"Well we still need to know that she's alright," the cop said as he checked over his current clip, "I overheard her mention something about 'bodies,' I hope that she wasn't jumped by one of those monsters," he said looking over his shoulder in uncertainty.

"I have faith she can handle herself. It's Sherry I'm more worried about. I'm hopeful Claire can still protect her," Jake replied as they made their way down the hallway to their left and entered a massive octagonal-shaped chamber that had to be taller than the tallest building in all of Raccoon, or at least seemed pretty damn near close. A bottomless pit was beneath them with nothing else in sight and a similarly shaped column stood in the center of the room. Strangely, everything was dripping wet as well.

Walking into the center column, the duo found some sort of mechanism with a burnt fuse in the middle of it, perhaps a power source for nearby doors needing to be activated.

Looking in both directions, Leon took note of a blue-lit path leading to the west and a red-lit path leading to the east.

"We've got a lot of ground to cover so we're gonna have to split up again. Jake, why don't you take the red path? I'll take the blue path and see what I can find. Maybe along the way one of us will find a fuse for this mechanism."

"Sounds fine with me," Jake replied, "Maybe I'll get some target practice in."

"Keep in touch if you need anything," Leon ordered as he made his way down the blue-lit bridge.

Jake nodded and made his way down the opposite bridge. The automated door's hydraulics hissed loudly and left him wincing, greeted by a lanky man dressed in the tattered remnants of a bloodstained lab coat. Large chunks were missing from the former scientist's scalp and its shattered glasses still hung from one rim by an ear held up only by a shred of flesh. Hunks of wet skin barely clung to the former human's fingers and blood fresh blood trickled from his mouth as he let out a dry moan.

With a twirl of his body, the hitman met his would-be aggressor with a roundhouse kick that sent him falling flat on his back. Withdrawing his katana from its scabbard, he drove his blade downward into the zombie's throat, piercing its spinal column. He placed his foot on the newly-deceased's chest and pulled the sword out, flicking the viral-laced blood away as he continued down the hallway.

Six additional zombies charged towards him, clad in lab coats, light blue surgical scrubs and black security uniforms.

"Strength in numbers, more than you bargained for this time Jake," the hitman whispered as he was left with no time to sheath his blade and tossed it to the floor as his attackers marched towards him with arms raised. Raising his rifle, the close quarters allowed him to drop the three closest zombies in rapid succession before he was forced to whirl around and create some space before he could drop his fourth attacker.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the light from above glimmer across his blade and knowing the odds would once again be in his favor, he reached down to reclaim his katana. With a graceful swipe, he took the fifth zombie's head clean off and then shot himself forward to impale the last attacker, letting his victim spasm before pulling out and spinning his entire body to take the former guard's head off just like he had the other.

"Always got my work cut out for me," Jake remarked aloud and looked around before trying the nearest door, which was locked. Seeing the rest of the corridor was clear he shouldered the rifle and withdrew one of his Berettas as he approached the door at the end. Finding it unlocked, he slowly opened the door and made his way inside.

"You're going down asshole!" a voice suddenly screamed and the hired gun spun around to barely dodge an iron pipe directed at his skull. Using the same deft movements that had saved him before, he jumped the frightened man from behind while he staggered from his attempted attack and twisted him into a headlock, placing his gun to the man's temple. It wasn't until he heard more panicked screams that he finally noticed the other people in the room.

Huddled in the corner of the staff quarters were six additional researchers and a man in a gray industrial jumper who was either a janitor or a maintenance worker. All of them carried a variety of melee weapons and were covered from head to toe in blood and grime, but appeared to have no serious injuries that could render them a threat. In the northwest corner of the room was another corpse lying near a previously ignited puddle of gasoline with charred vines surrounding it and an opened vent above.

Jake kept his gun firmly pressed against the researcher's temple, which he noticed as a short, mostly bald African-American male wearing thick bifocals and a stethoscope around his neck. He listened wordlessly to the man's whimpering and tightened his hold as a means of telling him to shut up before he spoke.

"Alright nobody move or your friend gets it," he shouted, his eyes narrowing on the group before him. To emphasize his words, he drove the muzzle further into the researcher's temple and pulled the hammer back, prompting a silence scream to form on his face, seen only by his frightened colleagues.

"Please, don't hurt him!" one of the researchers, a woman in her late forties with shoulder-length gray hair and black wire-rimmed glasses, pleaded throwing her hands up, only to earn a cold glare from the unsympathetic criminal.

Staring long and hard at the woman he mentally cursed her foolish bravery, feeling he was at his wits end and would start shooting any second now. He could see that they appeared to be just as frightened as some of the other people he had encountered in this city and for the time would let them live long enough to tell their side of the tale.

To the woman's immediate right was a middle-aged man around the same height with short black hair and light blue eyes clutching a fire axe encrusted in blood. For some reason Jake had to wonder if the nameless man would have been capable of carrying out the level of damage suggested by the amount of blood covering the bladed instrument. He surmised the man may have just found the weapon lying around somewhere, possibly picked out of someone's carcass.

Behind him stood the man in the industrial jumper, a tall, heavyset man with short blond hair covered by a turned around baseball cap. He was armed with a pipe wrench and probably could have done quite a bit of damage if allowed to, yet he seemed to display the same level of fear as the researchers.

In the corner behind the woman was a mostly bald older man in his late sixties wearing glasses and the remnants of a bright red tie. In his age-marked hands he held a .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver, but judging by his own trembling hands Jake could tell he probably didn't even know how to use the gun, let alone be brave enough to even attempt firing it.

Next to the old man was a slightly younger researcher with receding brown hair and a big puffy mustache that almost made him look comical. Had he been a few pounds heavier and had a fuller head of hair, he probably could have passed as being related to Brian Irons. A gleaming survival knife was clutched tightly in his right hand, suggesting he had probably not had the chance to use it yet.

The last man standing was a short Asian barely over five feet tall with slicked back black hair and carrying the splintered remnants of a broom that had been crudely sharpened into a spear.

Seated on a bench across from the others was another scientist, a lanky redheaded man clutching a Glock-17 in his soiled hands. While the others displayed an obvious fright to his presence, this man remained unresponsive the whole time, stuck in a catatonic trance. Jake kept a wary eye upon him, ready to act if he suddenly sprung to life.

A motley crew if there ever was one, a twisted miracle that a bunch of white coats could possibly survive the very horrors they had created. He could tell they were all frightened of him and he allowed his harsh bluish-gray eyes to glare daggers upon each one of them, an unspoken warning he meant business and would not hesitate for one second to pull the trigger if they tried anything stupid.

"Answer my questions and I won't," the hitman replied, the venomous hiss never leaving his voice as he slightly loosened his grip on the researcher, allowing some of the color to return to his face.

"What do you need to know? Name it and we will help you the best we can!" the revolver carrying researcher shouted from behind the woman, the hesitation heavy in his fragile voice.

Deciding to play dumb once again he brought up the monsters, "Tell me what the hell is going on with all of those zombies and red-skinned freaks running around here?"

"Oh, you mean the 'Re3's?'" the black-haired scientist asked, receiving a sharp glare from his visitor.

"Yes, those 'Re3's' as you call them! I've nearly been killed by God knows how many of them!" Jake growled towards the man, forcing him to take cover behind the maintenance worker, who was sweating bullets himself at the mysterious man's presence.

"It must have been a T-Virus leak," the lone woman spoke up again, prompting worried stares from her colleagues, like they were asking her if she should be divulging such information to an outsider.

Jake remained silent already knowing it was the aforementioned virus that had transformed the people around him into undead cannibals.

Seeing that she now had some room for speaking, the woman proceeded to explain what the T-Virus was and the events that had led up to the eventual viral outbreak in Raccoon City, pretty much reciting most of what Sebastian had written in his diary. She also stated that the virus was only communicable through bites and scratches from a carrier.

"Okay, so is there a cure for this little virus of yours?" Jake asked with applied pressure to his hostage, drawing more muffled cries from the smaller man.

"We're sorry, but there is no such cure for the virus," the mustachioed researcher replied, "but believe us, we were working diligently on a cure for this abomination! We've been at it for months!"

"Damn…" Jake cursed under his breath.

He was truly disappointed by the revelation, hoping they had developed some kind of vaccine for the virus. Deep down he could feel it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out and he would be bitten or scratched, thus surely condemning him to a fate as a soulless walking abomination if he were exposed.

"_They created this disaster, yet you'd think they would have the decency to develop an antidote to cover up this mess. Guess not," _he thought to himself.

His thoughts then shifted to the people who had died because of the insidious virus, ordinary people like Bob Park, Elijah Byrd and Tim Glover to countless others. Then they shifted to those who had lost much in the ordeal, like Donald Byrd, David McGraw, Mark Wilkins, Kevin Ryman and Jill Valentine, people who had lost friends, relatives, careers and so much more. Lastly, his thoughts would move on to those what had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, like Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Ada Wong and any other poor souls who had the misfortune of passing through Raccoon City when it was in the middle of an indescribable uproar, only to find themselves caught in a deathtrap with no way out.

Returning his attention to the researchers he decided to press them further, "Alright, is there any way out of this place? Something that can get me far away from here, like a helicopter or a train?" he asked purposely neglecting to mention his companions. Doing so would endanger them if there were Umbrella security forces still entrenched somewhere within the perimeter. He had no doubt once he was gone, they would suddenly gain the fortitude to rat him out.

"There…is a…train…that leads…out of…here…" his hostage managed to choke out.

Looking down to the nameless man, he cautiously released his grip and allowed him to sink to his hands and knees. He needed to find out what the researcher had to say and allowed him to regain his bearings, yet kept his pistol trained on the downed man to deter him from escape.

"Tell me where the train is and make damn sure you're telling the truth…or else you won't like how I treat a liar," Jake said as he moved his pistol towards the man's groin area with an evil smirk.

"There is a train on the P-4 level of this facility that should take you to nearby Latham," the man spoke eying the pistol nervously, "It's just a few floors down, but you will need to find a MO disk to open the hermetically sealed vault doors, that and a platform key to get the train operational."

"Anything else I need to know?" Jake asked, his aim unwavering as his cool eyes pierced the man's soul.

"Yes, if any biohazardous material at all finds its way onto the train, you will have to dispose of it immediately or else the train will come to a complete standstill and you'll be stuck where you were before," the researcher spoke, some calm returning to his voice as he told the absolute truth, hoping it would spare him from certain doom.

"All I needed to know," Jake replied lowering his gun, allowing the man to scamper back towards his colleagues, "If you people knew about this train then why the hell haven't you made your way there yet?"

"Are you crazy? There are too many of those monsters lurking out there!" the Asian researcher cut in, his voice thick with a Vietnamese accent, "Those creatures have already massacred all of our security staff and we are left with only these pitiful tools to defend ourselves with," he motioned towards the makeshift spear held in his trembling hands.

"Could've fooled me," the hired gun sarcastically quipped as he looked towards the silent man seated on the bench, now noticing a bloodied screwdriver lying between his feet.

"If we set foot anywhere outside of here they would eat us alive!" the researcher continued.

"Well karma's a bitch isn't it?" Jake retorted, wanting to rub the man's own ignorance back in his face. This same man had likely contributed to the creation of the very mockeries that now systematically hunted down his colleagues, ignorant of the ramifications that could follow. Here he now stood armed with only a primitive spear as a means of defense. _"You created these freaks; don't you think it's about time you owned up to your own mistakes?" _he thought bitterly as he turned his attention to the others.

"And you seriously think the cavalry will come down here to rescue you?" Jake asked pointing out the dead researcher in the room, "As much as those things have overtaken the surface and as boxed in as you are down here I doubt they'll even be able to reach you."

"Not entirely!" the woman spoke up again, "Before our mainframe was damaged, we managed to send out a distress e-mail to the Umbrella Special Forces! They should be on their way…I hope so…"

"_Terrific," _Jake thought sarcastically to himself, _"Just what we need, a bunch of trigger happy commandos showing up ready to shoot anything that moves. Knowing Umbrella, they'll probably come just to silence these poor schmucks and wipe out any evidence of their wrongdoings."_

"Any idea when they should be arriving?" the hired gun asked.

"No, like I said, our mainframe was damaged shortly after we sent out the e-mail! That was three days ago…" the woman replied hesitantly, "We have no idea if they'll be coming at all and the workstation in here isn't functioning properly. Like you said, we're basically boxed in here."

Jake looked over to the corner where the other deceased researcher lay and then glanced towards the open vent. "What about that vent over there? Haven't you tried getting out through there?"

"We sent one of our colleagues through there," the black-haired researcher spoke, "That was four hours ago and we heard some screams…we suspect he didn't make it."

Jake looked back to the vent and sighed, "Fine, I'll check it out. I don't know if I'll be back or not, but I'll see what I can find."

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do that?" the older man spoke up, "Look…I know we haven't exactly met under more…pleasant circumstances, but please tell me you'll send help for us at least! I'm sure you're not the only one running around here!"

The hitman looked back to the older man, whose nametag read 'Birdwell,' noting the horror in his eyes, wordlessly pleading that he would come back to rescue them.

"_Of course they're going to try kissing your ass when they see the big gun you're carrying around. Truly pathetic until the end, aren't you slimebag? Why should I try saving your sorry ass? You'll probably hook back up with your buddies if you do make it out alive and go back to creating your 'play things' and God knows what else," _Jake thought to himself before he spoke aloud, "I don't know," he spoke, his tone flat and emotionless, "If I don't make it out of here alive, then you're all on your own. If I do, then I still don't know what to tell you."

He then looked back to the catatonic man and eyed the gun in his hands, wondering if he would act out once he was gone. Without taking his eyes away from the man he spoke to the others, "You have any other weapons besides what you've got now?" he demanded.

"There was a flamethrower in one of the lockers over there," the same man replied motioning towards the lockers, "but one of the guards took it. Needless to say…he never came back…"

"I don't think you'd need it anyway mister," the maintenance worker spoke up for the first time during the encounter, "You already look like you're packing enough heat to put the Kendo Gun Shop to shame."

"Uh yeah, whatever," Jake spoke as he looked towards the vent and tried to figure out a way he would scale the wall.

"Mister-" the worker spoke before he was rudely cut off.

"My name is of no concern to you," Jake spat as he shot another menacing glare in the man's direction. There was no way in hell he was going to give his name out to an Umbrella employee, especially when he had been sent to eliminate one of their own. Hoisting himself into the opened vent he called out one final warning, "I'd stay put if I were you."

The vent was much wider than it appeared from the outside and he had no problems entering despite his bulk and equipment he carried. It was still a bit hot from a fire that had burned there hours earlier, but his clothing protected him as he climbed on his stomach. He pulled himself further along until he came across some mysterious green gunk, which he assumed was probably leftover from the plant that had once occupied the space.

Sticking out of the green goop he found the remnants of a gold Rolex watch and near it, a cracked ID card with the name 'Luce' printed on it.

"_Must've been their colleague, looks like he didn't get too far after all," _Jake thought as he climbed through the sludge, trying to ignore the sticky sensation on his arms and keeping his head low to avoid getting it in his hair. Rounding a corner, he would find the remnants of a black dress shoe and a Browning HP handgun soaked with green gunk and no longer useful, along with a survival knife coated with both green slime and human blood.

A set of ragged hisses he knew all too well called out as he neared the opening, prompting him to draw his S&W.

Beneath him two Lickers feasted on the remnants of another researcher, the human's blood and severed limbs covering nearly inch of a once spotless floor. They stopped once they could hear the wet movements of another possible meal heading their way.

Jake didn't even give them time to act and with two cracks of his revolver both their heads were obliterated.

Lowering himself onto a nearby bench, he was now in another bunkroom, one covered in vines creeping out through cracks in the walls and ceiling. Looking around to make sure none of them came to life to try grabbing him; he made his way towards a locker in the southwestern corner of the room and searched it to find more shotgun shells, along with speed loaders for his revolver and two more clips for his rifle. He had a feeling Leon would pass through at one point and left the shells for him.

Stepping through the door, Jake was back in the hallway and listened for sounds from the adjoining quarters to determine if the workers were still present. He could hear their muffled voices, but was unable to hear what they were talking about.

"_You're on your own slimebags," _he thought to himself as he was about to exit when the hiss of hydraulics sounded again. From around the corner a blast door raised and two new abominations made their presence felt.

Slithering towards the hitman came what appeared to be two person-sized plants, one mostly green and the other mostly red, both of them bipedal and possessing arm-like appendages with sharp tips resembling flowers that had not yet bloomed.

"More pest control," Jake spoke quietly raising his revolver and leveling it towards the creatures' 'heads.' They could not see him, but could probably smell him and slinked along with the red plant opening its center to fire a blast of acid at him. The shot landed at his feet and he leapt backward to avoid being scorched by the toxic substance.

Squeezing down the trigger, a powerful blast caught one of the mutations in its 'head' and an unknown substitute for its blood sprayed from the mutation's wound, the ivy plant letting out a tortured scream before it withered to the ground.

Unfortunately for Jake, he was too slow and the second plant opened its maw to fire a blast of acid at him. There was nowhere to leap except backwards and he managed to avoid the brunt of the vile miasma, but a few drops had caught him on his exposed left forearm and burnt through his rolled up sleeve onto portions of his already injured appendage.

He screamed in agony as the substance made contact with his skin, feeling as if somebody had just thrown hot coals at him. The pain was so crippling he could do nothing to defend himself as the bipedal plant shot one of its vines out and whipped him along his side, feeling like it was ten times the force of a riding crop. Another vine lashed him along his upper leg, tearing through his pant leg and leaving a gash in his skin.

Jake had been brought down to a knee, only to be forcibly dragged back to his feet as the plant's vines wrapped around his arms and lifted him upward.

Opening his eyes as a wave of steamy breath washed over him like he were in a sauna, he found the plant's maw opening once again like a Venus flytrap and he stared into an abyss of nothingness.

"No…not like this!" Jake grunted as he struggled to free himself from the plant's grasp. The more he pulled, the more his injured arm and leg fought against him, as if he were dragging his flesh along a saw blade. He tried reaching for the pistol in his left holster and managed to grasp its handle, but sound found his hand yanked away.

That left only his right hand and left him playing tug of war for his own limb. With a grunt, he kicked away at his aggressor's leg and listened to it squeal. It had the desired effect and weakened the creature, allowing him to reach for the Beretta in his right holster and fire three rounds into the same leg it kicked.

The ivy shrieked in agony and abruptly loosened its grip on the hitman, allowing him to raise his gun and fire the rest of his clip into its gaping orifice, the bullets tearing through the back of its head and sending it sagging to the floor.

Jake tried to mutter a profanity, but he suddenly started feeling dizzy and his mouth hung open lazily. His vision blurred and then quickly darkened, feeling as if his head were underwater. Shaking his head violently, he managed to steady his vision for a few seconds before everything again quaked around him.

"_Damn it, that fucker poisoned me," _he thought as he struggled to keep his balance and collapsed against the nearest wall to brace himself. His pulse was already racing and he felt the sheens of sweat cascading down his exposed skin, mixing with the acid still burning away at his already injured left arm, the burning shot throughout and left him wanting to swat it against the wall, anything to stop the stinging sensation.

"_Snap out of it!" _he mentally shouted to himself, struggling to remain upright as his legs turned to jelly. His stomach felt like it weighed a ton and he was overcome by feelings of nausea, _"Fuck, I don't think I have any of those blue herbs either…damn it…I should've asked Leon for some after we left the sewage disposal plant!"_

His vision continued fluctuating between light and dark as he held himself against the wall, feeling like he was clinging to the ledge of a cliff as the floor suddenly seemed so far beneath him, like he was looking down into a gorge. He shot his hand out and it gripped onto the handle of the staff quarters he had just exited and then a thought hit him.

"_Wait a minute, I saw a planter full of those blue herbs! Not one, but a whole line of them!" _his mind screamed as he struggled to open the door.

He finally managed to force it open, but as soon as he did he slipped on a chunk of human intestine and fell on the bloodstained floor, letting out another scream of pain as he landed on his injured arm.

The sense of pain was short lived as he spotted his salvation across from him. It felt as if a light from the heavens shone upon the blue herbs, all of them looking so tasty at a time like this, and they weren't going anywhere.

Ignoring the dry feeling in his throat, he gathered up his strength and crawled towards the pot, ignoring the corpses in the room with him as his vision was transfixed upon his salvation. He had to get there if it was the last thing he did.

"_This isn't the end of the line for Jake Cavanaugh," _he told himself as he shot his hand out and gripped one of the plants, ripping it from its bedding in one swift motion and sticking the stem into his mouth, biting down and forcing himself to chew on the plant. He felt the sap in his mouth as he ground his teeth down on upon it and when it felt soft enough, swallowed the plant whole, doing what he could to ignore the rough texture.

He collapsed to the floor and laid there for several seconds. Closing his eyes, he felt the tingle throughout his body and the heaviness binding him to the ground. In truth he had only kept his eyes shut for a few seconds, but it was almost like an eternity before he could feel his pulse slow to its normal progression and his body temperature beginning to fall. Opening his eyes, he could see everything coming into focus and make out every horrific detail of the Licker that lay dead just inches away from him.

It sounded crazy, but never before had such a horrific sight seemed so beautiful.

"_Damn, that poison really must have screwed with my head," _he thought to himself as he could feel his strength returning and rolled over onto his back, pushing himself into a seated position. _"It's gotta have some kind of weird mind altering effect if I'm able to find the sight of a beast with its head blown open beautiful."_

Furthermore, he noticed how these Lickers were different from the others. They had green skin with long scythe-like projections instead of toed claws for forelimbs.

"What the hell?" he asked as he struggled to push himself away from the dead mutant, but was halted by another sharp twinge.

His left armed still throbbed, but he felt solace in knowing he would still be around to complain about the pain. Taking long gulps of air he wiped the sweat away from his face and finally willed himself to stand up.

"These things taste like shit, but they're lifesavers," he said aloud as he pulled out his first-aid spray and applied it to his fresh injuries, grunting at the stinging sensation before the pain finally subsided. Knowing they would help him in the future, he reached down and plucked out two more blue herbs, leaving plenty behind for anybody else that could possibly happen across them.

"_Christ, it'd be scary to think of what it would be like if Umbrella tried its hand at farming," _he thought to himself as he walked down the hall and was about to go through another door when his radio beeped.

"_Jake, are you still there?" _Leon called out.

"Yeah, I'm here…a little sore, but still alive. How are you holding up?" Jake replied.

"_Fine so far,"_ the rookie officer spoke from his end, _"I've got the power back on and now we should be able to access the other doors."_

"Uh huh, listen I've overheard that some Umbrella cleaner units might be on their way. Chances are they might have some itchy trigger fingers and under orders to blast anything that walks, humans included. Be on the lookout for anything suspicious," Jake explained remembering what the researchers had told him.

"_That sounds like fun," _Leon sarcastically replied, _"Well alright, you'd better watch out yourself. Let me know if you come across anything else."_

The line went dead and the hired gun was left to resume his adventure.

"_Yeah, watch out kid," _Jake thought to himself looking back towards the wilted plants and further towards the zombies he had dispatched single-handedly.

"_Being the origin of the outbreak, there could be plenty more down here than what I've seen on the streets and with the twisted minds these deluded fools had, they've probably got plenty of more 'pets' I haven't seen yet. Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if Dracula, Frankenstein and the Wolf Man all showed up wanting a five star meal. We're walking around in the Devil's playground and I doubt the words 'play nicely' are in his vocabulary," _he said to himself as he allowed himself to recline against a wall and regain his bearings.

It was now September 30th and he had been stuck in the nightmare for six long, arduous days which had taken a physical and mental toll upon him unlike anything else he had ever endured. Every small skirmish could have been his last for all he knew, but he vowed such odds would not break him.

Emotions were powerful things that could determine every little outcome, and for years Jake had been a master at keeping his emotions in check. To control how a person felt was impossible, but he had gone through enough hardship in his young life and had learned coping tactics from those around him for his defense mechanisms.

"_I am in control,"_ the voice echoed in his mind, _"I am the master of my own being, neither my fear nor my pity. I will not falter in my mission."_

Kicking the door open, he found himself diving against the wall to avoid an acid blast directed at his chest. While the beast recovered from its failed attack, Jake stuck his revolver through the opened door and blasted the two mutant plants loitering on the platform.

"Just no low these clowns won't stoop to," he said aloud as he found himself in an elevator shaft with a huge vine-like leviathan spanning down as far as his eyes could see, its moving tentacles sticking out from all directions and threatening to reach out and grab him. Below him more plants scuttled about sensing the human's presence.

Holstering his revolver, he withdrew his rifle and continued his assault.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Do you think that mysterious fellow made it?" Dr. Birdwell asked his colleagues as he looked over towards the sprawled corpse of Dr. Pentland, who had been strangled to death by mutated vines while trying to ignite them with some gasoline after Dr. Luce had gone missing.

"I don't know, but he appeared to be pretty well-armed for a civilian so I believe his chances would be high," replied Dr. Brentwood, the middle-aged dark-haired man, "but I don't know if he'll be sending any help back for us. He didn't seem to care much that we were alive."

"Well somebody has to come through and rescue us," spoke Dr. Troyer, the only woman in the room. "We have done everything the company has told us and have served them loyally throughout this whole project. There must be something they will do for us after all we've sacrificed for them!"

Her eyes were drawn toward Dr. Halverson, who had remained in a near catatonic state for much of the night. The young man had endured two separate traumas during the incident, first having to gun down his best friend and then being forced to stab his own wife to death with the screwdriver lying at his feet, both of whom had been exposed to the T-Virus.

Everybody noticed the death grip he maintained on the Glock-17 and were deathly afraid of the moment when he would finally snap out of it, not knowing what he would do. Simultaneously, they were too nice to leave him to the mercy of those critters outside. If anybody had any plans regarding what to do with him, they kept them locked within, afraid of uttering the magic word that would set him off.

A loud crash came from above and the other seven staff members jumped back as a ventilation duct cover fell to the floor. The armed employees raised their weapons fearing another monster was about to make its entrance.

A pair of human feet appeared from the opening and a dark-clad figure dropped to the floor with the grace of a feline, followed closely by another. Two men – at least they appeared tall enough to be men, stood before the frightened workers clad in gas masks and bulky combat gear that bore no symbols to identify who they worked for.

Glowing red eyes peered upon the researchers, who did not know what to make of the mysterious men and cautiously lowered their weapons.

Looking to each other, the nameless troopers each withdrew silenced MP5 submachine guns and pointed them at the researchers.

Despite having weapons of their own, the untrained researchers would have been no match for two alien-looking killing machines with automatic weapons and one by one, each dropped their weapons and raised their hands into the air.

"Don't shoot, we're with the staff!" Dr. Eagles, the African-American researcher called out, hoping these men were the rescue party sent by Umbrella.

Remaining silent, the two commandos looked to each other and nodded.

Squeezing down on their triggers, their silenced guns delivered a muted flurry of lead, cutting down the battered researchers in one tidal wave of agony.

The gunfire continued until the trooper at the front brought his hand up motioning for his subordinate to stop. He listened intently for any signs of life and brought his MP5 up the second he heard a moan, escaping from the tired lips of the maintenance worker. Walking over and kicking the hefty man onto his back he fired a single round into the dying man's skull.

Looking back to his subordinate, the trooper tapped the side of his helmet to activate his communication device, "All clear!"

Two more commandos dropped down from the duct and searched the researchers for anything useful. Surveying the carnage he had just created, the leader tapped on his helmet again and spoke into its miniature microphone.

"Cavanaugh was just through here. We heard his voice," the commando spoke in a robotic tone.

"_Leave him," _an icy voice commanded from the other end, _"He has a job to do and it must be seen to it that he completes it."_

"And what if we cross paths with him?" the commando asked, prompting stares from his fellow soldiers.

"_You won't," _the voice flatly stated, _"Neither you nor any of your men are to interfere in his mission. Technically he is working with us. If for some reason he discovers your presence, you are simply to knock him out and leave him be. Do I make myself clear?"_

The trooper looked to his colleagues and breathed deeply, "Affirmative."

"_Good, you have your own orders Major. Now get to them!"_

"Yes sir!" the major replied.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake Cavanaugh literally burnt a path of devastation through a pack of Plant 43 samples, torching them with his napalm rounds. Moving through a door, he found himself in a dull gray hallway, where a Re3 dropped through one of the ceiling tiles. As quickly as it landed, the beast was swallowed whole by a wall of fire compliments of another red-capped napalm shell.

"Magnificent, don't you agree?" the icy voice whispered to a commando standing near him.

Unknown to the hired gun, an unseen individual watched his every movement from the safety of the facility's main control room, a person who wielded much power and influence.

"Just look at how gracefully he tears through those inhuman heathens like they are mere flies. I tell you, now I know my intuitions were right in selecting him for this assignment.

"There were those who looked at me oddly when I planned on picking a 'petty street criminal' to perform this task for our organization, but now I see he is much more than that.

"This man is a highly competent hitman, a Grade A trained killer, a master of his craft. This man is no ordinary 'criminal,' he is a born soldier, able to adapt to any battlefield he sets foot in. Now I know my contact in the mob wasn't just on some drunken tirade when he boasted of how good this man was.

"Jake Cavanaugh is the real deal I tell you, an asset we would be foolish to part with once this mission is complete," he spoke in a Machiavellian air of confidence.

The man he spoke to was clad in the same combat gear as the other troopers milling about the room; however a set of golden bars on his uniform signaled he was of a higher rank than everybody else. In his hands he held a silenced MP5 just like the others, but also had a M24 sniper rifle strapped to his back. He turned to face the mysterious man next to him, "Are you saying you want to recruit him after this mission is over with?"

"Precisely Commander," The Man spoke, his face hidden in the shadows, "I feel with the right payments and benefits, we could make Jake Cavanaugh a full-fledged member of our organization."

"Are you sure?" the Commander asked, looking down to his troops before looking back to his superior, "You've sent the man into a city full of walking dead. Do you seriously think only ten million dollars would be enough in convincing him to join us? The man is a mercenary. How can you be certain he won't just move on to the next bidder once he collects your payment?"

The mysterious man stared intently towards the Commander, "Do you always possess such little trust in my abilities of persuasion?"

No reply came from the hardened soldier, his glowing red lenses hiding his true gaze. The Man had known him for years and could tell he was giving him a dirty look beneath the mask. Any lesser soldier would have been shot dead on sight for asking such questions.

The mysterious fellow let out a low chuckle, "No need to worry. The man is a wanted criminal. He is constantly on the run and to someone who probably cannot spend the night in even the lowest shack without a gun beneath his pillow, ten million dollars is a lot. Plus, there is so much else we can offer him.

"Think about it, with the authorities constantly on his tail, all we would have to do is bribing the right contacts and offer him shelter from those so-called 'untouchable' types. If that isn't enough, we could promise him all the hard drugs and loose women to his heart's content.

"Even if those promises are unable to convince him…" The Man cracked his knuckles, "…then he will just need some more 'persuasion' if you catch my drift."

The Commander remained silent and returned his attention to the troops below. Several armed commandos patrolled the control room ready to respond if any B.O.W.'s decided to make their presence felt. At the vast control consoles, numerous techs were hard at work hacking into the system, on a mission to gather what remaining data they could for their company.

"Out of all the options you had, why else do you take such interest in this particular man?" the Commander asked, "There has to be some ulterior motive aside from what you've already told me."

The Man smiled as he produced a plastic evidence bag from his pocket. Inside was a simple piece of tattered black fabric covered in droplets of blood that could only be spotted by a trained eye.

"I took the liberty obtain this sample from a pair of cargo pants Mr. Cavanaugh had been wearing and had one of our techs analyze it. Let's just say our newest hired gun could be useful to us for another reason."

"And what reason is that?" the Commander demanded.

"I'm sure you are aware of the Umbrella Corporation's research, which has stated that only one in one hundred million hosts exposed to the T-Virus possesses the potential to mutate into a Tyrant, correct?" The Man asked.

"I am aware," the Commander replied.

"Mr. Cavanaugh would fall into that minority. He has provided us with a rare find. No matter under what circumstances, we must see to it that his body is retrieved," The Man smiled as he walked with his hands behind his back, moving along the row of techs to observe their progress.

Eventually he reached the tech assigned to monitor the facility's security system, a rather studious young man named Gamble. A small PDA device was connected to the mainframe and he used it to shift through the various feeds, currently observing a young man in an R.P.D. uniform with a bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder, which had somehow made it into the V.A.M. room. A Remington shotgun was strapped to the man's back, but he currently wielded a flamethrower, which he used to decimate a gang of manufactured zombies.

Deciding it was time for a status report he crept up behind the tech and cleared his throat.

Immediately the hacker jumped upon recognizing his voice and nervously looked up to the powerful individual standing tall over him.

"Ah Mr. Gamble, I do believe I placed you in charge of monitoring security am I right?" The Man spoke looking up towards the bank of monitors.

"Yes sir, so far I've managed to secure the holding pens, meaning our men should be safe from any additional dangers, but they still gotta put up with those Eliminators that managed to escape," the tech reported pushing his large glasses back into position and resuming his previous duties.

He typed in a few more commands and the primary feed switched over to a young woman wearing a rose-colored vest with 'Made in Heaven' stitched into the back, blasting a giant mutated moth with napalm rounds from an M-79 grenade launcher. Once the mutated insect had been vanquished, she rushed over to a nearby computer where she cut up some oversized maggots with a survival knife and then typed in a command before issuing her fingerprint.

"This feed was actually recorded a few minutes ago and we've analyzed her fingerprint, belonging to one Claire Redfield," the tech reported.

"Redfield…" The Man growled slightly, keeping it low to avoid drawing attention.

"There are actually several people running around here aside from Mr. Cavanaugh, Ms. Redfield and that cop who are in no form affiliated with Umbrella," Gamble reported as his feed then switched over to show a little girl in a sailor outfit crawling into a nearby vent to escape a seven foot tall behemoth in a green trench coat.

"I am not interested in those 'other people' at the moment Mr. Gamble. Please keep your attention focused on Mr. Cavanaugh for the time being," he ordered.

"Yes sir," the tech replied as he switched the feed back to Jake Cavanaugh, who was now blasting through another group of carriers with his dual Berettas. Eventually his guns would click empty and he was forced to cut through the survivors with his katana.

"He's doing remarkably well sir, but he's getting closer to us," Gamble said, the nervousness returning to his voice as he thought of what could possibly happen if the hired gun were to reach the control room with all of them present. Bloodshed would surely follow.

"You need not worry about him as we will be out of here soon," The Man spoke, sensing his subordinate's fear. Looking at the screens he took notice of the civilians wandering about whom the tech had mentioned, as well as his men carrying about their usual routines, which largely involved hunting down surviving staff members, sifting through files and databases for anything useful, battling the menagerie of B.O.W. samples, or in one case transporting the carcass of a young woman whose chest had burst open after exposure to a G-Virus embryo.

"_Sir, we have contact with armed civilian engaging MA-121 units-" _a soldier's voice called out over the radio before he was cut off in mid-sentence.

"Never mind that soldier, continue with your assigned task!" The Man ordered.

He then returned his attention to the monitors to have another look at Jake Cavanaugh, who was now moving through the corridor leading to the P-4 laboratory, cutting through another mass of walking dead. From the corner of his eye he spotted another familiar looking woman emerging from a locker after having managed to dodge a Re3 unit.

"_Perhaps things are going to get more interesting after all,"_ he thought with a smirk.

"_So far you have proven to be a worthy investment Cavanaugh. Don't let me down and I can make you a very wealthy man."_

Brushing past some commandos, he made his way back to a desk where a large black briefcase rested. Typing a numeric code into the side panel the case clicked open and he was greeted by rows of freshly-minted one hundred dollar bills, numbering ten million dollars when counted in its entirety.

"_You would be a fool not to accept my offer. You have the potential to become something greater than what you think you are, and only I can help you reach that new level."_

The Man thought to himself as he shut the briefcase, _"There will be no refusing this offer. I know you are an intelligent man Mr. Cavanaugh and you will do what is right, or else…"_

Snatching up a small pyramid paperweight, he squeezed it in the palm of his black-gloved hand and within seconds it was ground into sawdust.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: And so a mysterious new face enters the fray and he's interested in our favorite antihero? Who is this mysterious 'Man' and what does he have in store? Tune in for further installments of "Darkness Arises: Reborn" to find out!

As always read and review! Until next time, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	39. Ch 38: Screwed

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 38: Screwed

Like he had just been launched from a cannon, Jake Cavanaugh flew through the automatic door headfirst and landed at the foot of a locker.

"Damn…" the hitman grunted rubbing his sore shoulder and pulling himself back into a sitting position. He felt along his back and ran a finger along the fresh tears in the back of his shirt. "Damned fucking insects…" he grumbled, thankful his vest was there to save him yet again.

Forcing himself into a sitting position he withdrew one of his Berettas and kept it trained on the sliding door, listening for any more of those mutant insects. He still had images flashing through his mind of that laboratory he just visited, which looked like it had been converted into some kind of nest and found the smoking remnants of a giant moth.

"No more mysterious benefactors for me…" he murmured rising back to his feet and looking through the window of an adjoining laboratory, where he saw four more zombies stumbling about. Checking his pistol to make it was loaded he stepped into a small decontamination chamber.

"Here we go again you bastards," he said approaching his first target, a man in a bloodied lab coat with most of his face ripped away. Not even giving the former human a chance to make its charge, Jake fired a round into his face.

Approaching the next automatic door he withdrew his katana and stepped into a dimly-lit laboratory where all of the inhabitants came to life upon hearing the whoosh of hydraulics.

A zombie in blue surgical scrubs approached from his left while another researcher approached from straight ahead. Shooting his arm out, Jake drove his blade through the first cadaver's chest and twisted it to keep him at bay while he raised his gun and fired two shots into the other attacker's skull. Another undead staff member tried to approach, but would befall the same fate as his colleague before the hitman returned his full attention to the first inhabitant and twisted the sword until it moved upward and pierced its brittle skull.

One more zombie remained and staggered as quickly towards him as one of its kind could. Jake pulled his sword from his previous victim and swung it upward, decapitating the former researcher and watching as the rest of its body fell onto a workstation, knocking over the computer and everything else.

Remaining silent, the hired gun crept down the aisle awaiting other possible hazards, scanning the darkened crevices between the workstations and machinery for any zombies that could be playing possum. Only when he reached the opposite end of the room did he bother to sheath his sword, but still kept his Beretta drawn.

Eventually he happened across a station covered in dried blood that someone had hastily tried washing away, creating an even bigger mess than before. Bullet holes dotted the wooden desk and tore up the carpeting beneath, a few spent casings remaining.

He then remembered the conversation he overheard between Ada and Annette Birkin where they discussed William's attempted assassination. Maybe this had been the very spot where he had been shot to near death and injected himself with his own creation.

_"Looks like I've found where this bullshit started," _he thought to himself scratching his stubbly chin as he studied the dry crimson streaks, _"Doesn't look like there's anything else of use around here," _he added as he looked around at several computers present, lacking the know how to hack into any of them. He also took the time to observe some refrigeration units nearby that housed a variety of chemicals, sending chills up and down his spine as he pondered what could happen if they were released into the world.

_"With all the shit they've got in there it looks as if they were getting ready to go at war with the entire world," _Jake said to himself as he then looked over to a synthesizing machine just to the right of the nearest cooler.

The whoosh of hydraulics came from behind, prompting him to spin around with his gun raised.

A slender figure stood in the doorway, illuminated by the airlock lights and his eyes widened when he recognized the familiar face.

Annette Birkin.

_"So she survived after all. But how?" _he asked himself as the woman gasped at his presence and whirled around.

"Wait!" he shouted as she disappeared from sight. Wasting no more time, he began his pursuit and made his way back into the level's main corridor, littered with the corpses of zombies, mutant plants, overgrown maggots and a few of those different kinds of Re3's as the researcher called them.

At the end he spotted the woman entering an elevator and was going to call out again just as the doors shut behind her.

"Damn it," Jake huffed staring at the light above the doors, moving to the right as it gave away which floor the woman was heading for. He quickly calmed himself when the light stopped after three flashes. _"Okay, she hasn't gone far," _he told himself as he stared at the call button and took a deep breath before pushing it. _"Don't have much choice. No stairs in sight and those doors look too thick to pry open," _he thought as he knew of the possibility there could be Lickers or Hunters in the shaft.

_"Or some weirdo watching me," _he thought as a loud ding rang out and he stood with his rifle ready. Nothing was there to attack him and he stepped inside, pointing his rifle towards the ceiling tiles and listening for any noises from above. Carefully scanning his surroundings for any security cameras, he found nothing that stood out and cautiously hit the button that would take him three floors down.

_"Christ, even some crappy elevator music would relieve the tension right now," _Jake thought as he listened to the dull clatter of machinery and kept himself moving as he waited for the elevator to reach its floor.

A few seconds later the doors opened and Jake found himself greeted by a sparsely-lit hallway that appeared empty.

"Hmm, for once there are no zombies to greet me, no Lickers dropping through the ceiling tiles and no exploding elevators. Nice to see my luck change for once," the hired gun remarked as he approached the first door on his right. It was locked, but he could see the aftermath of another massacre inside another lab, a lone flickering light illuminating the carnage.

"She didn't go in there," he whispered as he approached the next door, also finding it locked. The assassin would go on to repeat the process, finding all the other doors locked until he came to the end, where there was another reinforced steel door with a card reader at the side.

He remembered the ID card that had been provided for him and pulled it out of his pocket. Hoping for the best, he slid it through the reader and nearly jumped for joy when a green light flashed, followed by a robotic female voice saying _"Access granted."_

The door slid open and Jake found himself blinded by bright blue lighting.

"What the?" he hissed as he gave time for his eyes to adjust to the light pouring in through the nearby window, covered in snow and ice.

He was in another hall with windows looking into a wide open laboratory, which had been the sight of another battle. There were several gutted human corpses that had been frozen to the floor, as well as three erect figures that had been transformed into icy statues by the extreme temperatures. Judging by their shape, he guessed they were some species of Hunter.

A gunshot suddenly rang out and Jake barely dodged a bullet aimed at his skull.

Darting his head to the left he caught another glimpse of Annette Birkin aiming at him from around the corner, bolting down the hall.

"Get back here!" the hitman roared resuming his pursuit, leaping over the corpse of another security guard as he rounded the corner to find the woman disappearing through another hatch.

_"For a woman who fell from a second floor balcony, she's sure moving fast," _Jake thought to himself, hearing more gunfire as he bolted towards the entrance. The door slid open as he approached and he threw himself against the nearest wall, anticipating more shots fired in his direction. When nothing happened he stepped inside and found two bodies lying before him, both carrying fresh wounds to their skulls.

Two loud cracks came from ahead and he looked ahead to see another zombie slumping to the floor. She was just a few feet ahead of him and he raced around the corner, leaping over her fresh kill and nearly tripping over a janitorial cart as another automatic door slid shut in front of him.

_"This bitch is really starting to fucking piss me off," _Jake told himself as he rushed towards the door and again pulled out the ID card, sliding it through the reader and again the door opened for him, but he was halted by a chorus of moans.

"You're not coming any further you bastard!" Annette called out from the other end, having released the zombies from a nearby lab before she disappeared through another reinforced door.

_"Too bad I'm not getting paid for ventilating your sorry ass too, bitch," _Jake thought as he now focused his attention on the six zombies barring access to his target.

"Your ugly mug is gonna have to do for now," he spoke to his nearest target, a bespectacled older man whose jaw looked ready to fall off at any second. With a squeeze of his M4A1's trigger, a crater was drilled through his forehead. Two more zombies moved in shoulder-to-shoulder lockstep as they approached with their arms outstretched, leaving them easy targets for the next barrage Jake fired, splashing a crimson fountain upon those behind them.

By now the other three attackers had closed the gap and the hitman was forced to retreat. He turned on his heel and running back a few steps before he resumed his counterattack, dropping the closest zombie and crippling the other two.

Withdrawing his blade, Jake ran over and drove it through the closest zombie's skull before bringing his foot up hard enough to snap the other's neck.

"Now where was I?" he asked aloud as he maneuvered around his fresh kills and marched towards the next door, again sliding his card through the reader.

The door opened and Jake now found himself inside a vast office area filled with rows of cubicles. He took cover behind one of the walls, knowing his target would be provided plenty of cover. Doing what he could to slow his already heavy breathing, he could hear shambling footsteps and moans in the room as well.

Scurrying along the wall he peeked around a corner to see a zombie that still had its back turned to him, hobbling over towards one of the cubes when a surgical pan struck it in the face and sent it falling backwards against a coffee maker. Annette Birkin came charging out and barely ducked beneath the arms of another attacker before firing at an unseen menace.

"Gotcha," Jake whispered as he began running along the aisles doing what he could to keep an eye on his target when a woman in a bloodied yellow lab coat stepped into his path with her left arm outstretched. Wasting no time, the hired gun grabbed her by the sides of her head and twisted it to the side, rewarded with another loud snap before tossing her body away. He could hear the electric hum of another door open and spotted Annette diving through while another zombie stumbled after her.

Fortunately for Jake, the door wouldn't close all the way as it sandwiched the zombified researcher, breaking several of the former human's bones as it still reached pathetically after its prey. The hitman raised his gun and fired into the back of his head, prying the door all the way open as the body sagged to the floor.

Annette was only a few steps ahead of him in a corpse-filled hallway before she turned around and raised her gun. Jake would again barely dodge a bullet directed at his skull, but another round was fired and caught him in the chest, knocking him back against the wall.

"I have seriously had enough of this fucking cat and mouse bullshit!" Jake screamed as the bullet thumped against his bulletproof vest, but still left waves of pain coursing through his chest.

The Umbrella researcher again turned to open fire, realizing to her horror she had ran out of ammo.

Shrugging off the pain, Jake charged towards the woman as she tried running away, but he caught up to her and grabbed her by the back of her coat and threw her against the wall.

"I have had enough of nearly getting myself killed chasing your sorry ass around," he screamed in her face while gripping her by the throat, "Now you and I are going to sit here and have a nice long fucking chat lady!"

Annette Birkin looked deep into his eyes with a look of uncertainty that would soon change into a scowl of anger, spitting in his face.

"Go to Hell!" she seethed through clenched teeth.

"I guess we're gonna have to do this the hard way," Jake snorted as the saliva trickled down his cheek.

Another loud crash came from behind and the hitman looked to the side to see another ceiling tile collapse, one of those different-colored Lickers landing behind him.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Annette Birkin raised her foot and planted it square into the young man's groin.

Jake grunted in anguish and collapsed to a knee clutching his sore groin, enabling the troublesome woman to once again elude his grasp. An ear-splitting shriek a second later would drop him to the metal floor and he rolled on his side to see the enhanced Licker lifting its forelegs into the air and looking to bring them down on his face.

Rolling out of the way just as the Licker's claws struck the floor, his adversary would find itself stuck and it roared in frustration as it attempted to free itself. Jake continued rolling along the floor until he was certain he would be out of the tongue's range and pulled out his magnum, firing a blast into its arm, close to severing it before he fired another blast into its throat, striking a crucial artery and leaving his foe to bleed out.

Jake pushed himself to his hands and knees, only to stop as he felt a twinge of pain travel from his groin to his stomach.

"As if that woman couldn't piss me off even more than she already has," he whispered as he waited for the pain to subside and slowly braced against the wall to pull himself back to his feet.

Jake continued down the hall and eventually came to an entrance wide enough for a semi truck to drive through. With nowhere else to go, he cautiously made his way inside.

The room was a wide open space roughly the size of a warehouse with concrete floors and lined with ten foot high walls, both dotted with bullet holes, blast markings, claw imprints and large splotches of blood. Also present were rows of splintered wooden crates, broken through sandbag barriers and the remnants of cardboard cutouts. It looked to be a training course of some kind and the narrowness of the paths had him thinking he was about to enter a maze.

Rounding the first corner, Jake immediately happened across a line of human bones strewn about the floor, all of them carrying claw and teeth marks. His foot brushed against the remnants of a shattered skull, along with the slashed remnants of an AK-74 assault rifle. Knowing it could be a harbinger of events to come; the hired gun hugged his body against the wall and deftly moved about as he rounded turn after turn, finding more leftovers from previous battles, yet no signs of danger.

He continued about until he came to a small clearing at the end, much of the floor saturated in fresh blood with several torn apart corpses lying about, mostly appearing to be commandos similar to what he happened across in the sewers. All of them were surrounded by clusters of spent bullet casings and their weapons had been smashed to pieces, assuring he was stuck with what he already carried.

_"Feeling at home yet slimebag?" _Annette Birkin's voice called out over a loudspeaker.

Looking upward Jake spotted a two-way mirror and assumed she must have been up there.

"For being the kind of bitch you are, you're very accommodating," Jake sarcastically quipped.

_"Don't get cocky with me you piece of shit! I know why you're here," _the woman retorted.

"Is that so?" Jake replied, "I was going to say that I had no idea what the hell you were talking about, guess you know me better than I thought."

_"You're another spy sent by the company to retrieve my husband's work, aren't you?" _Annette demanded.

"Heh, I could give two fucks less about your husband's work that you speak of," Jake shouted back with no sign of fear evident in his voice. He assumed by the 'work' mentioned that she must have been referring to William's fabled 'G-Virus' she had overheard her discussing with Ada back at the sewage treatment facility.

Annette Birkin looked down upon the mysterious man from the safety of the testing chamber's control room. The painkillers she had taken to make it this far were beginning to wear off and as her soreness returned, her pent up rage and frustration elevated to levels she could never before have imagined.

_"My husband was a brilliant and dignified man striving to take this company's research into the new millennium and how do they repay him for his countless years of hard work? They try to murder him in cold blood and take what is rightfully his," _she thought to herself, gripping the microphone in a white knuckled fury.

"You are a lying bastard," she spoke in a slow, menacing tone, the quivers of pain evident with every word uttered, "Your people have already slaughtered the man I love and now Spencer has sent you to finish the job!"

Jake resisted the urge to chuckle at the accusation. "I'm not with Umbrella lady. As far as I know, I was passing through when this bullshit started."

At the same time he thought to himself, _"What a fucking psycho! I might have to shoot her dead along with that freak husband of hers. I'd be doing Sherry a favor too. Having to be raised by an overbearing maniac like that is hard for any child to endure. I know all too well," _he told himself as he pondered if the glass Annette hid behind was bulletproof.

"I told you not to play dumb with me you lying bastard!" Annette screamed into the microphone.

Breathing in deep shaky gasps she looked over to a foot-long cigar-shaped tube filled with a strange purple liquid.

"I will never let them take you away from me," she spoke to the vial as if it were a child, "You are all that is left of William's legacy."

Her gaze was diverted to a nearby security monitor and a smile crossed her lips.

"Now you will suffer," she said reaching for a nearby switch and pulling it down.

An alarm blared throughout the cavernous room and Jake looked on in confusion as red klaxon lights flashed overhead. From a distance he could hear the rumble of a massive door lowering and he cursed to himself, knowing he wouldn't escape in time. A thunderous echo followed as the door closed and the sirens ceased, followed by what sounded like numerous cages opening in unison.

A series of hoots and hollers resounded from afar, the kind only a primate could make.

"Son of a bitch," Jake muttered to himself as he listened to the heavy footfalls pounding furiously against the floor at a manic pace and watched as a shadow came into sight, its rapid movements preventing him from getting a grip on what was coming towards him. He could only stand in place with a death grip on his rifle as he waited for his new attacker to make its presence felt, the frenetic hooting and hollering pounding away at his mental defenses with the force of a sledgehammer.

The monster eventually leapt into sight and let out a jarring scream before pounding away at its chest, announcing its intent to kill.

It looked like an ordinary white-furred monkey with a long tail, yet was much larger. Due to its excess muscle tissue there were tears in its skin, exposing the patches underneath.

"Gotta do what I always do," Jake whispered and squeezed the trigger.

The M4A1 spit a barrage of high-powered rounds at the mutant primate, which used its enhanced agility to bounce out of the way and off the nearest wall, forcing the hitman to leap away as it landed next to where he once stood. Jake barely dodged a swipe from the mutant's left hand, but was unable to raise his rifle and fire due to the close proximity. He tried to run away, but the beast was practically on top of him and forced him to kick a leg out to create some distance between them.

His kick had done little to faze the beast and he was again unable to fire his rifle as the monster closed the gap with an overhead swipe. Out of desperation, Jake reached for one of his Berettas and fired several rounds into the monkey's chest, doing little to slow it down until he finally scored the critical hit through its right eye.

There was no time to celebrate as the hired gun could hear more hooting and hollering and pointed his rifle towards the maze's exit.

Expecting another monkey to come charging at him head on, strangely these calls sounded like they were coming from above and he turned around to see his next attacker climbing over the wall behind him.

Squeezing down on his trigger again, Jake managed to unleash another torrent of lead upon the approaching primate, his bullets shredding away at its arms. The monkey howled in pain before pulling itself all the way over and leaping towards him with murderous intent in its eyes, forcing him to duck.

More insane hollers came from behind and the hitman turned to see another monkey charging towards him, this one with darker hair. He was forced to jump again as this creature torpedoed itself towards him and he barely dodged another attempted swipe where his head once was. The primate had been fast though and Jake could feel a set of claws slashing against his back and ripping a large chunk from his shirt.

He grunted at the club-like blow and was certain there were indentations left in the plating beneath, but couldn't feel any gashes in his skin. Once again the vest had saved his life and he ripped apart the mutant's chest with another barrage of bullets before managing to strike its forehead. By then the rifle clicked empty and he was patting away for his magnum, striking the remaining primate in its chest repeatedly before it sagged to the ground and he was left with only two bullets in his current speed loader.

It still wasn't the end as another monkey balanced itself atop one of the walls and another appeared in the maze's exit.

"More bastards that don't know when to give up," Jake muttered as they both charged towards him simultaneously.

He managed to strike the one on the ground with a round to its shoulder and another to the stomach before he clicked empty and ran past the wounded ape and back into the maze.

It was a risky move, but Jake needed to get them in an area where they would be forced to come at him in a single file line rather than from opposing directions. He also noted their tendency to bounce around in combat and knew a confined space like the maze would hamper such a tactic, plus leave them sitting ducks for what he had in mind.

"Come on you flea-bitten bitches!" he called out, knocking on the nearby wall with his rifle's butt, "I'm right here!"

Jake continued making as much noise as he could until the first monkey bounced into sight from around a corner and he squeezed the trigger, firing an explosive shell directly into its upper chest.

The second ape leapt over the flaming carcass of its 'brother' and bounced back and forth off the walls as if it were stuck inside a pinball game, leaving it open for Jake to fire another shell. Although it wasn't struck head on by the blast, the detonation severed its left arm and crippled its leg, leaving it at the hitman's mercy.

"Nighty night Screaming Mimi," he said before firing another shell and blowing its upper body to bits.

Annette Birkin watched the scene unfold on one of the monitors, left in shock as the mysterious man had managed to dispatch five Eliminator units alone.

"How can that be?" she asked in disbelief. She had witnessed Eliminators in action before, often managing to kill more than one armed attacker before a single shot could be fired. _"He has to be a professional. There's no way a civilian could survive such an attack," _she thought as the man made his way back to the open space.

_"Is that the best you have to offer?" _he called out waving his arms around, _"You've always gotta hide behind your freaks? You morons are that chicken shit you can't come down and face me one on one? Huh?"_

"Your problems are far from over you soulless piece of shit," Annette shouted into the microphone, "You will not escape this facility alive!"

She then noticed another large button on the control panel and slammed it down.

A metallic click rang out and Jake looked around expecting more of those mutant monkeys to show up. Instead, he felt the floor collapsing beneath his feet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After what seemed like only seconds, Jake Cavanaugh awoke in a rancid, crowded mess, pain shooting through his body as he struggled to sit up, only sliding further back into the trash heap when things collapsed beneath him.

"As if this night couldn't get any worse," he grumbled as he felt his hand collapse after making content with a stack of papers and sinking further into something wet. "Not the first time I've been in with the trash, but still sucks," he hissed as he moved his other hand around in search of his M4A1.

The mound of trash he laid upon felt like quicksand and he sunk further with every movement he made. With a pained effort, Jake tried rolling over onto his side, taking a bunch of wet cloths that had stuck to his back with him as he flopped onto his stomach. He continued pulling himself along until he gripped a handful of hair.

A younger man lay clenched within his grasp; his once white lab coat turned mostly crimson thanks to the multitude of deep gashes all over his torso and limbs.

"So I'm not alone after all," Jake quipped bitterly as he noticed another body laying next to the man, a woman dressed in surgical scrubs with several vital organs hanging out from a large single cut in her chest. They would be the first of several corpses he would find, all in various states of dismemberment, including the commandos and one of the demonic primates from above.

Studying the rusty walls of his surroundings he looked to the opening and noticed the teeth on the opposite ends, surmising he may have been in some kind of trash compactor.

Atop another heap of decaying bodies the hitman spotted his beloved rifle and eagerly snatched it away, shaking away any blood he could before yanking a discarded cloth and wiping his weapon clean before slinging it over his shoulder.

_"Now to get the fuck out of here," _he told himself as he looked past the decaying bodies to spot a haphazard stack of wooden crates with a blood spattered folding table atop them. Taking a step forward Jake tested the strength of the garbage beneath him, his leg sinking down to his knee. "This is gonna be fun," he sarcastically remarked before taking his next step, and then the next until he was trudging through the mess, doing whatever he could to avoid the bodies in his path.

Gripping the stack, he freed his left foot and tested the strength of the bottom crate before hefting himself onto it and reaching for the next crate and so forth. "Almost there," he grunted as the table now stood just above him and he reached for the box beneath it, the cracking of wood beneath him.

One of the decaying crates was giving out beneath him and it was causing the rest of the stack to wobble.

_"Time to think fast again Jake," _he told himself as he looked to his left and saw he was just beneath the catwalk ledge. Above it was a solid guardrail that would be able to support his weight and with a labored grunt, he heaved himself upward and caught the edge, forcing himself to grip the railing with his other hand. The tower he ascended was already collapsing underneath him in an earth-shattering rumble.

"C'mon," he grunted as he kicked his leg out and continued until he finally caught his heel on the catwalk's ledge and was finally able to pull himself up.

"Never again…never fucking again!" Jake hissed rolling over onto his back and allowing himself to breathe deeply, stretching out his limbs and letting them relax after all the strain placed upon them.

_"Christ I hope that bitch doesn't have any more traps set up around here," _he thought as he laid on the metal surface, still feeling too weak to move around. It felt so good to just lay there and relax and he was on the verge of passing out when he heard the clatter of footsteps from nearby.

Reaching out and using the rail to pull him onto his side, the hired gun looked up to find another zombie staggering into the room, this one clad in armor similar to the deceased commandos but missing a helmet. What was worse, the approaching cadaver's skin was the same angry shade of crimson as those 'enhanced zombies' he had seen while traveling with the U.B.C.S. operatives.

The enhanced commando roared like a lion upon spotting Jake and charged towards him with his clawed hands raised, closing the space between itself and the hitman.

Jake raised his rifle and fired, delivering a barrage that took out both the zombie's kneecaps, yet the red-skinned brute continued crawling after him using its claws to reach further. The hitman felt tempted to kick his attacker's face in, but was driven backward by attempted swipes and took the safer option of firing a round into its skull.

"That'll wake you up," the hired gun chuckled as he stepped over the crimson zombie and looked down to notice the deep rend in its left elbow, the likely source of its infection.

Jake exited the compactor room and found himself entering another large room, this one a circular-shaped aqua ring filled with various water tanks and numerous different species of marine life dwelling within.

Directly beneath him to his right was a tank with most of its water tinted bright red and scattered throughout he was able to make out the mangled remnants of human bodies.

"They're not stupid. They've got all the bases covered: sea, land and air," Jake remarked as he noticed a large dorsal fin breaking the water's surface, heading towards a bobbing headless torso. In one swift motion a shark leapt out and swallowed the human remains in one gulp.

A clipboard rested on a nearby shelf and Jake examined it, learning the shark below was codenamed 'FI-03 Neptune' and seeing pictures of a Great White in various states of decay.

Setting the clipboard down he made his way over to the opposite side, where he noticed a tank with its observation glass shattered and most of the water drained, enabling several zombies to get inside and feast on the remnants of another Neptune.

"Disgusting bastards," the hitman remarked as he continued along the safety of the elevated catwalk, noting several more zombies staggering about, some of whom were tearing apart a few of those frog-like Hunters he had fought alongside David and Shane.

Jake exited the aqua circle and entered yet another large room, nearly knocked from his feet by the overwhelming stench of decay mixed with embalming fluids.

"This night just keeps getting better and better," he mordantly grumbled as he walked into a large room filled with numerous B.O.W. samples in the midst of dissection.

_"Hopefully they're all dead," _he thought to himself as his attention was drawn to a nearby zombie who had been strapped down to an operating table with what looked to be a plant growing out of its head. Examining some nearby notes, it was stated the subject had been exposed to a plant infected with the T-Virus after its own exposure.

On a table next to the plant zombie was another one of those red-skinned types that had just attacked him, its chest opened by a bevy of buckshot rounds.

_"I sure hope you're dead," _Jake thought as he approached a nearby monitor, explaining that the type of zombie he currently looked at was called a 'Crimson Head,' a result of prolonged exposure to the T-Virus. He searched through the nearby files, containing more pictures of the crimson-skinned terrors, including one that looked like it was in the process of transforming into a Licker, similar to the one he had fought before escaping the Apple Inn.

_"So it's possible for zombies to eventually become Lickers after they've been exposed to the T-Virus for an even longer period of time. Damn, that's more complex than I thought it would be," _Jake told himself as he approached a line where three different kinds of Hunters were laid out, one resembling the very first kind he had encountered, the second being the one with red tumors all over its head and shoulders, and the last being the frog-like brand.

"You bastards again," Jake whispered as he stared at all three of them. Even if they were no longer in any position to be a threat towards him, he still looked upon them with thoughts of wanting to destroy them. According to their charts, he was staring at the Alpha, Beta and Gamma respectively.

Nearby there was another kind of Hunter he approached with morbid fascination, this one having light purple scales and veins sticking out all over its body, dispatched by what appeared to be rounds from a magnum. A 'Sweeper' this brand of enhanced Hunter was known as, capable of poisoning victims with its claws.

Jake would suddenly shudder in disgust as he happened across another one of those gigantic spiders, this one looking to have been immolated and now had its thorax sliced open with its innards removed and placed on surgical trays.

"God I fucking hate spiders," he hissed to himself as he found some notes labeling these mutated arachnids as 'Web Spinners.'

He tried to get away from the arachnids he so deeply loathed, only to find another that reminded him of them, this one looking like a crossbreed between a spider and a human being with a scythe-like appendage at the end of its left arm

"As if things can't get any more fucked up," Jake groaned as he studied the creature closely, happening across a chart which labeled this abomination as a 'Chimera,' a term familiar to him due to his interest in Greek mythology.

As if oversized spiders weren't enough, Jake would soon happen across a gigantic frog with its back opened up. He recalled having dissected plenty of them back in his high school biology class and aside from being blown up a hundred times its usual size; its internal organs looked to be the same as any ordinary amphibian.

_"A 'Lurker' you are called," _Jake thought as he looked at another chart, but was halted as he spotted a familiar adversary lying on a table behind the giant frog.

It was another one of those mutant monkeys that had attacked him above, this one having dark hair and its face blown off. An 'Eliminator' it was called according to its notes, this particular sample coming from the 'Marcus Estate.'

_"Well this has been a very 'educational experience' to say the least, but now I gotta get my ass moving and find that bitch," _Jake thought to himself as he approached the end of the room and exited into another hall.

"The hell?" he hissed as he noticed a swathe of light travel along the wall from around the corner and took cover in a nearby alcove.

"Commencing a full sweep of the perimeter," a muffled voice called out and Jake peeked his head out to find one of those commandos alive and well.

_"Roger that. Report any findings at once," _a voice called out over the soldier's radio as he proceeded further down the hall with a silenced MP5 in hand.

_"That guy's all alone. There's just something that's a little too easy about that," _Jake thought to himself as he stood with his rifle at the ready, having to rely upon sight alone. The trooper moved about as if his heavy looking boots were actually made of velvet.

The nameless soldier continued forth until he approached a nearby alcove and stopped, waiting for any dangers that could have been lurking in the shadows. Switching on his thermal vision he immediately spotted a figure waiting for him around the corner and raised his submachine gun, firing a muted burst chipping away at the wall.

_"Can't think, gotta act," _Jake thought, jumping as the bullets tore away at the section of wall he barely held his brawny figure behind.

Jake stuck the muzzle out and fired blind towards his assailant, eventually forcing the man back a few steps. When he had created enough of an opening, he leapt into the opening and fired a burst of armor piercing rounds into the masked man.

The bullets slammed into the commando's stomach and he fell to the floor grunting in pain. With his victim dropped, the hired gun ran over and kicked the man's MP5 away before he could reach it.

"Alright, who are you and who the fuck are you working for?" Jake screamed into the man's face before pressing his boot down upon the man's wounds. He wanted to make the man scream, yet he possessed an abnormally high tolerance for pain and only grunted slightly under the pressure. "Answer me! Are you one of Umbrella's bitches?"

"Go to Hell!" the man wheezed earning a hard stomp onto his bloodied torso that finally made him cry out in pain.

"I am not one to be fucked with!" Jake shouted before calming himself, "Tell me what your business is here and maybe I'll consider letting you live," he demanded, his voice becoming a vicious wolf-like growl.

"I'll die before I tell you anything!" the soldier defiantly spat.

"Suit yourself!" Jake said before firing a blast into the man's face.

_"I wasn't going to let you live anyway pal," _the hired gun thought as he patted down the man's body, finding three additional clips for his MP5 and two additional clips for his Berettas. Aside from the ammo, he found a pack of Lucky Spade cigarettes.

_"Ugh, I'd rather be disemboweled by one of those Hunters rather than smoke myself to death," _Jake thought, stomping on the fresh pack, _"Too bad I couldn't have been sent after some tobacco executives."_

He scooped up the man's MP5 and noted it still contained half a clip following their recent skirmish. Things were going perfectly fine with his M4A1, yet he decided to take the submachine gun along in case somebody else needed it, knowing Leon and Claire were still running around somewhere.

With a new weapon acquired the hitman continued down the hallway.

Unknown to him, there were two other commandos who had witnessed the incident taking place.

Despite having witnessed one of their own gunned down before their very eyes, the two men showed no signs of grief. They had strict orders not to interfere with Jake Cavanaugh's mission in any shape or form. Such an extreme would not compromise adherence to their orders.

To them, their colleague had brought it upon himself and nearly cost them their mission.

With a collective shrug, the two men carried on with their own objective and left their deceased colleague behind, just like the cold-blooded killing machines they had trained to become.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Annette Birkin sat at a computer typing away furiously.

After encountering those two mysterious people she was determined to dig up whatever information she could on them, hopeful it could give her some kind of edge over them.

"Come on, there has to be something on you two," she said to no one in particular.

Through the security cameras she had managed to capture images of the two individuals, one of whom had been the woman who introduced herself as Ada Wong, the very bitch who had nearly knocked her to her death, and secondly the man in black who had somehow triumphed over all obstacles thrown in his path.

She had also taken notice of the cop who arrived with them and had been able to hack into the R.P.D. database to reveal him as Leon S. Kennedy, a recent hire. Despite being a 'rookie' she found it impressive he was able to survive this far, but nonetheless he was now an enemy who threatened her husband's legacy.

A loud beep sounded, telling her the search was complete and she opened a new window.

"Let's see who you people really are," Annette whispered as she began taking in all the information gathered.

"Ada Wong…" she spoke lowering her tone into an indiscernible jumble as she read the dossier concerning the woman. A sadistic smile spread across the blonde-haired woman's features as she could barely prevent herself from chuckling aloud.

"Fay you gullible fool," she said cupping her chin in her hand as she opened the next window, this one containing all known info on the mystery man.

"Now isn't this a surprise?" she laughed in a mocking tone, "Seems we've got ourselves one very shady visitor after all," she chuckled as she brought up the 'Print' command on her toolbar.

"I'm sure your friends will be delighted to hear what you have to say."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake ran as quickly as he could through the room full of holding pens, wanting to escape the deafening concurrent screams of the Eliminators around him, threatening to make his eardrums explode. They were throwing themselves against the bars of their cages at full force and their long arms were dangerously close to gripping him.

_"Nothing like the trips I took to the zoo as a kid," _Jake grunted as a dark-haired primate screamed in his face. He had to hold off his urge to shoot, knowing he couldn't risk the wasted bullet.

_"I should be out of here soon," _he told himself as he moved down the line of enclosures, eventually passing one that had its door torn from its hinges and finding a mutant primate inside that had been gutted.

The hired gun ran past another line of cages before finally spotting the door at the end and was about to open it when a bloodied claw punched through the porthole.

A Hunter Alpha let out a violent scream as it attempted to free its arm, which had been impaled upon a large shard, and Jake was forced backward to avoid any blood being flicked onto him. He raised his rifle and fired a volley into the beast's hand, shooting off its claws and splattering blood all over the door.

With his latest adversary walking wounded, the hitman pulled the door open and found the reptilian beast thrashing violently before he put it down with another burst to the face.

"Goddamned bastards," Jake uttered in contempt before spitting on his fallen opponent. _"Damn right I'm gonna be happy when I never have to see your ugly mugs again…and when I'm seeing my 'benefactor's' mug destroyed by a few rounds from my magnum."_

He continued down the hall and eventually came to an intersection which brought him to a halt. Left with no idea where to go he grunted in frustration.

_"I always hate when this happens, especially because there's nobody I can split up with. This would be a good time to have a clone," _he thought as he stared down both directions unsure of which way to follow.

Another low rumble drew his attention to the right hand path and he stood with his rifle ready.

He checked his grenade launcher and nearly froze, finding himself out of shells. The rumble was getting closer and by now he could tell they were footsteps, more than one pair, sounding like a stampede of elephants coming his way.

_"The worst of times to be without any grenades Jake," _he scolded himself.

By now the figures made their way around the turn and seemed to pick up speed as they spotted their fresh prey.

It was a pack of Crimson Heads, only four of them to be exact, but moving with the ferocity to make it sound like there was ten times their current number, their collective roar only intensifying such pretense.

"Shit!" Jake hissed as he raised the rifle and fired a burst into the undead researcher at the front of the horde, causing the former human to stumble, only to regain its footing a second later.

_"Time to fucking bail!" _his mind shouted to him before his legs finally got the message and he started running away from the crimson quartet.

He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a regular zombie in a gray industrial jumper, grabbing the former human and tossing him to the ravenous fiends, who wasted no time tearing one of their own to shreds before resuming their pursuit of the human.

Jake continued running until he passed a red tank with a flame sticker on it, indicating it was flammable and waited for the enhanced zombies to get close before he twisted around and fired a round that struck the tank head on.

An explosion followed and one of the crimson zombies was immediately swallowed whole in the blaze, while another was thrown to the side and the other two were outside the blast radius, continuing their hunt with claws raised.

Jake again tried to run and fire at the same time, but the speed and awkward angle caused him to miss most of his shots, only succeeding in clipping one of his chasers in the shoulder and severing its arm. He fired until his clip ran dry, cursing his bad luck. There was no time to reload and out of desperation he swung his rifle back like a baseball bat and struck the closest zombie in the face, knocking it to the floor.

Unfortunately, it had left him wide open and the second Crimson Head tackled him to the ground before Jake could bring his foot up to block him.

"Not…tonight!" the hitman grunted as he used his right hand to keep the zombie's chin locked in place before driving his other fist into the crimson menace's face, knocking it to the floor. Keeping a grip on his adversary, Jake rolled over and straddled the former maintenance worker. "Say goodnight!" he grunted as he grabbed it by the collar of its jumper and began slamming its head into the metal floor repeatedly.

He pummeled away at the crimson-skinned nightmare until he felt a tugging on his pant leg and turned to see the other zombie he batted down had recovered and was attempting to draw his foot towards its eager mouth. It was a struggle for the hitman due to the attacker's enhanced strength, but he somehow managed to free his foot and drove it into the former researcher's face and broke its jaw.

Pushing himself back to his feet Jake withdrew his Beretta and fired three shots into the Crimson Head's face until it was reduced to bloody pudding.

With that zombie out of commission, he turned his attention back towards the blast site from earlier, where the other remaining Crimson Head had crawled eagerly towards him, its spine shattered after being thrown hard against the wall. Not wanting to see what the beast would further evolve into, Jake dispatched it in similar fashion.

"Just fucking die you bastards," the hitman grunted as he prepared to walk away, only to be halted by a sharp pain jolting up his right leg. "What the hell?" he asked himself looking downward.

His pant leg had been shredded like it was just sent through lawn mower and he noticed the multitude of blood covering it despite the dark material, knowing it was already from many different sources thanks to all the fighting he had already gone through. To make sure he wasn't crazy, Jake kicked his leg outward.

The pain was still there. With that abrupt movement he felt like he was stabbed, a sensation he was already familiar with. He flexed the leg's muscles and it still hurt like a bitch, forcing him to grit his teeth. What could be causing him pain? He asked himself that as he looked down upon his fresh kills.

"But I killed all of you," he whispered as he looked down to the maintenance worker whose he rammed repeatedly into the floor, the pool of blood still expanding beneath his fractured skull.

The pain stabbed into his leg again and he was left to wonder what could be the cause and thought of what had recently just happened.

His mind flashed back to a few moments earlier when he was tackled down to the floor.

A chill crippled his spine and he stared blankly ahead, paralyzed by the thought which had just entered his head.

"No…could it be?" he whispered as his heart began pounding like a jackhammer.

For the first time in a long while Jake Cavanaugh truly felt frightened.

There was only one concrete possible cause behind his pain and the possibility tore away at his psyche. He didn't want to think about it, but it had drilled through his defenses and now it was all he could think about. It terrified the hell out of him, but he knew he had to look down and know that it wasn't what he thought it was. He had to look down.

Taking a monumental effort to look down to his right leg he slowly lifted his tattered pant leg and it was then he felt his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

Three jagged claw marks were dug into his calf.

"No!" he gasped shaking his head, "It can't be! There's no way…" he blurted out before it finally walloped him like a heavyweight boxer's knockout punch.

He had been slashed by the Crimson Head, likely as it tackled him to the floor. So caught up he was in the heat of the struggle the pain didn't register right away.

Now that reality had set in it felt as if several hooks had been dug into his skin and were pulling it in all different directions.

"No…" he repeated to himself, "…how could that bastard have done this?" he thought as his lower lip trembled.

As it sunk further into him Jake could feel his stomach tighten so deeply he felt ready to shit it out.

He was infected.

_"That thing scratched me," _he thought to himself as his eyes fixated on the deep rends in his flesh, _"This is the end of the road. I'm infected with the T-Virus…something there is no cure for…I'm going to become one of them. I'm screwed…I'm fucking screwed!"_

Jake's pulse jumped into overdrive and he felt himself wanting to vomit as a torrent of emotions overcame him. The different tides in which his feelings flowed went from one extreme to another in a matter of minutes and there was a particular change that stood out.

Fear turning to unbridled anger.

The hired gun clenched his fists until his knuckles were ready to pop through his skin and he turned to the very Crimson Head that had caused his infection.

Letting out an animalistic cry of fury, Jake Cavanaugh began to kick and stomp away at the deceased monstrosity until he was sure he had broken every bone in its body.

Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by the "Now you've Got Something to Die For" chapter in the original "Darkness Arises," but I came up with new ideas to base this chapter around and thus I ended up splitting it into two separate ones. Tune in until next time as our now infected antihero struggles for survival in the Umbrella-owned labyrinth.

As always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	40. Ch 39: Now You've Got Something to Die

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 39: Now you've Got Something to Die For

Jake trudged quietly through the corridor, fresh off an adrenaline rush and covered in the blood of an already deceased adversary.

In the absolute silence he was alone with his thoughts, not knowing how much longer he would be capable of rational thought.

_"I'm nothing but a walking time bomb," _he repeated to himself, _"How long is it before I start wanting to gnaw somebody's arm off?" _he thought, having witnessed more than one person transform right before his very eyes. _"I certainly know what'll be waiting for me when that does come," _his mind told him, mentally picturing his brains being splattered all over the wall.

It was a sobering thought, but he knew it was an inescapable fate at a time like this.

_"Soon it won't make much difference anyway. They're all going to end up looking like big juicy steaks to me," _he told himself, _"I could just end it right here and now if I wanted to, probably should've done it the second that bastard scratched me. I'd be saving everybody else the trouble. At least they wouldn't have to feel guilty over putting me out of my own misery."_

He was slowly going on a downward spiral as he thought more and more about what was to come. His attention turned towards his Beretta and it seemed so enticing to end it now.

_"Jesus fucking Christ Jake, you've gotta get a goddamned grip on yourself," _a more logical part of his mind cried out, _"You've gotta fucking stop thinking about killing yourself. You're no coward remember!"_

"I'm not," he whispered aloud, _"I'm not just going to kill myself like that. Only a true coward would do that."_

Indeed he was slowly approaching Death's door, but he knew that there still had to be something worthwhile he could do, some way he could help the others so his death wouldn't be in vain.

_"If I'm going to die, then I should at least see to it somebody makes it out of here alive. I won't be able to leave, but I should be on hand to say goodbye," _he told himself as he stopped to lift his pant leg.

By now the pain had been largely dulled, having expended the rest of his first aid spray in an attempt to add some sand back to the hourglass. He didn't know how fast the virus would travel through his system, but he would do whatever he could to slow its progression.

The hired gun had been fortunate enough to happen across a wall-mounted first aid kit and was able to find some anti-bacterial medicine to clean out the wounds, as well as some bandages and a cloth he would tie as tightly around his leg as he could, anything to halt him from itching them. He had known such from encountering other carriers that would complain of the burning sensation and would scratch away at a feverish pace before turning. It left him to wonder if scratching the wounds hastened the rate at which people changed.

In addition to the first aid spray and bandages, he had also taken some aspirin; along with some blue and white recovery meds he had seen George give to some patients, and some hemostat pills to halt the bleeding. Again he didn't know if it would slow the virus down, but anything was better than nothing. He had pocketed the bottle of two-toned pills doubting anybody else would pass through this part of the facility.

There was one more thing he had to take into consideration.

Looking down to his Beretta Jake lifted it up and pulled back the slide, ejecting a lone bullet which he held between his thumb and index finger, holding it up to the light.

Never before had he taken such interest in one bullet, a bullet with his name on it. A wave of nausea overcame him as he thought of what he would have to do. It was never how he would have pictured his life ending.

_"Once that happens there's no turning back. Get used to it Jake, you're gonna have to do it when the time comes," _he reminded himself as he slipped the lone bullet into his breast pocket.

For now, he wasn't going to sit around and wait for the final bell to toll. If he was going to die, then he would do whatever he could to make his few final hours count.

_"If I've gotta die, then I might as well bring a few more of those bastards down with me," _he thought as he continued down the corridor, passing another one of those commandos, this one having been disemboweled.

Jake eventually happened across a laboratory with its door left open, the panel next to it still sparking after being damaged by gunfire. He was going to pass it by when he saw something located at the center of the room which spurred morbid curiosity on his behalf.

At the center of the room stood a ten foot tall stasis tube filled with some bluish material glowing brightly under the overhead lights and floating inside was a monstrosity the hitman instantly recognized.

_"Just as Sebastian described it," _as he took in the eight foot tall silver-skinned mountain of muscle encased within. His eyes were instantly drawn to the bald giant's left arm, replaced by the aforementioned claw, and its exposed heart. Aside from a few veins creeping across, the behemoth's face reminded him much of the brute he encountered back at the police station.

This particular specimen appeared to be in suspended animation and even so, Jake moved cautiously around the laboratory, not knowing if the B.O.W. was able to hear him from inside its glass prison. The constant beeping of life support machinery did little to assuage his tension.

He moved over to a workstation near the dormant giant and happened across some notes left out, revealing this to be a T-002 specimen as mentioned by the good researcher, having just recently arrived from a Tyrant manufacturing plant on Sheena Island. Furthermore, he read this unit was currently inactive due to its host brain not having been implanted.

Jake breathed a sigh of relief as he set the clipboard down, but then had to ask about the 'host brain.' Looking over to his left he saw a small container lying shattered on the floor, presumably having housed the aforementioned organ.

"Must've become someone's midnight snack," he muttered to himself as he looked over to a table surrounded by surgical equipment and other machinery. A white sheet covered a motionless figure, and once again piqued the hired gun's curiosity. Slowly approaching the covered being, Jake took a furtive glance around before pulling back the sheet.

He was greeted by the sight of a teenage boy who appeared to be of Pacific Islander descent, lying there with the top of his head sawn off and his brain nowhere to be found.

"Bastards," Jake whispered, sickened by the lows such a company would stoop to. They were nothing but sanctimonious, hypocritical pieces of shit and he felt bad that he wouldn't be around to see the head of the company fall before the vengeance of those he had wronged.

_"It will happen in due time. There's no way they're going to be able to ignore what they caused around here," _he assured himself as he draped the covers back over the deceased teenager, _"You can't just make over one-hundred thousand people up and disappear overnight."_

With nowhere else to go in the room Jake returned to the hallway, finding it devoid of any visible threats, and approached the next room with his rifle in one hand and keycard in the other, swiping it down and listening for the beep before opening the door.

Another empty sterile room awaited the hired gun.

"Maybe not as 'empty' as I thought," Jake whispered as he noticed the walls on both sides lined with drawers wide enough to fit human bodies. His thoughts flashed back to the police station's morgue, more so as the zombies came alive to attack him and Leon. From what he saw, all of the drawers in this room contained numeric codes and he hoped that would prevent any inhabitants that weren't truly dead from coming back to haunt him.

The hired gun noticed an eerie orange glow coming through the porthole of a door at the back of the room and couldn't help but be drawn to it, just like a moth to a flame. He kept his rifle protectively raised as he approached the door, the whirr of machinery droning out anything he could have heard within the drawers. _"Gonna have to make this quick," _he told himself as he approached the door, noting the warmth of the handle before pulling it open.

A tidal wave of heat washed over Jake as he stood in the doorway and he cupped a hand over his nose and mouth as he was overcome by the stench of burning flesh, only this time multiplied by a hundred.

A large incinerator stood in the center of this room, overflowing with ash from not having anybody tending to it, and all sorts of bodies, both human and zombie, piled haphazardly everywhere except for the small stretch leading straight to the machine itself.

_"So this must be where they dispose of all their evidence," _Jake told himself, _"I wonder how many people they sent through here," _he said nudging a naked woman lying nearby, _"This looks like too many to just up and vanish overnight. Maybe some of these people could be from outside Raccoon City. Who the hell knows? I'm only wasting time standing around here doing nothing."_

The assassin exited the morgue and could still feel the lingering heat clinging to his exposed skin. He wondered if that was a side effect of the virus coursing through his system. Whatever the case, it made him shudder as he realized he was getting closer to the end.

_"C'mon Jake, stop thinking about that," _he told himself as he continued down the corridor, _"but then again what else is there to think about?" _another voice spoke. At this point he was running blind, no particular task in mind to distract him. _"There's gotta be something I can do, something to make sure my last hours count."_

He continued down the corridor until he heard a man's panicked screams. _"Hmm, maybe I'll get to do something worthwhile before I bite the bullet," _he thought as he charged down the corridor with his rifle drawn and rounded another corner.

A middle-aged man ran down the corridor being pursued by another monstrosity Jake had not seen before. This brute was roughly around his height with a sickly yellow skin color with plenty of bloated veins and arteries sticking out of its flesh. Its left arm was nothing more than an atrophied stump, while the right had ballooned up to epic proportions.

In a morbid display of power, the hitman watched as the mutant shot its arm out like it were made of rubber and clamped down on the nameless man, pinning the unfortunate soul against the nearest wall and crushing his skull like an egg.

Not knowing the extent of this monster's strength, Jake withdrew his revolver and fired a round into the back of the beast's right kneecap, causing it to scream out in pain before firing another round into its elastic right arm. The yellow-skinned terror turned around to face its attacker and just as it did; its right leg broke off beneath its knee.

_"Really outdid yourself that time Jake," _he thought as he stared into the monster's withered visage, its face degraded to nothing more than melted patches of skin. The emaciated beast attempted to shoot its arm out towards the hired gun, only to be halted as he pumped more rounds into the enhanced limb, crippling it beyond repair.

With his latest speed loader expended, Jake threw down the empty magnum and drew his Beretta, firing five rounds into its rotting face, collapsing much of its skull as the bullets made impact.

Having defeated his latest threat, the hired gun knelt down to retrieve his empty revolver when he felt the twinge shoot out from beneath his bandages.

"Fuck…" he grunted from behind gritted teeth. Normally the first aid spray would block out any pain for hours at a time, as evidenced by that fall that had torn up his leg a few nights ago. It had been hours before he felt anything after that, an injury that had been twice as worse compared to being scratched. He hadn't been scratched even forty minutes ago and the irritation was already coming back. With great effort, Jake tore his eyes away from the bandages, doing whatever he could to prevent himself from scratching the area.

Forcing himself back to his feet, the hitman stepped around the fallen brute's massive misshapen arm and made his way down the corridor until he reached the murdered man's body.

"Man, what a mess," Jake said to himself as he knelt next to the fallen man, his head now reduced to a deflated sack with bloody mush oozing out of the openings where his eyes, nose, mouth and ears had been.

The man wore the yellow coat of a researcher and inches away from his outstretched hand was a dark blue duffel bag. Reaching over and unzipping it, the hired gun found it stocked with ammo, medicine and food rations.

"_He must've been on a supply run. There are enough supplies in here for at least two or three other people for a few days," _Jake thought as he hefted the bag over his shoulder, _"Maybe there are other survivors down here," _he told himself as he found a security camera hanging overhead, wondering who could have been watching him if anybody.

Given they would likely be Umbrella employees and not knowing how they would react to the presence of an outsider, he kept his rifle in hand, hoping he wouldn't have to put up with automated turrets, mines or any other kind of booby traps.

"_That would be just my luck," _he told himself as he continued further down the endless corridor. Eventually he happened across another automatic door and looked around for any threats before sliding his cardkey through the reader.

Stepping through with his rifle raised, the assassin entered another laboratory similar to Birkin's and right away heard footsteps.

"Oh Boyd, thank God-" a woman called out, walking out from behind a surgical screen, only to stop as she laid eyes upon the hitman.

The woman was clad in a yellow lab coat similar to the man from the hall and wearing bloody latex gloves. She was in her early forties with curly black hair worn in a short ponytail and black wire-rimmed glasses. A look of apprehension washed over her face as she stared towards a nearby workstation, where a Beretta 93R handgun rested.

"Don't even think about it!" Jake barked, causing the woman to jump backward with her hands in the air, "Don't think I won't fucking kill you if I have to!"

"Wh-wh-what do you want?" the woman whimpered backing herself against the wall.

Jake growled in reply, doing everything he could to hold back from latching onto her and wrapping his hands around her throat.

"I should want you dead," he hissed, "You're part of the problem. You belong to the corporation that manufactured this ticking time bomb inside of me…the reason I'm about to become one of 'them.' Give me a fucking good reason why I shouldn't kill you?"

"Y-You're infected?" she asked.

"Goddamn right I am," Jake snapped, "It's only a matter of time before you start looking like a big juicy steak to me. This is the only time I'm going to give you a more painless option."

The woman looked him over closely before slowly lowering her hands.

"Go ahead and shoot me. I'm not afraid of dying anymore," she said walking towards him.

Jake said nothing as the woman stopped in front of him and spread her arms. "I realize what I've contributed to and I deserve to pay for my sins. I see that you are just another innocent soul unjustly touched by this catastrophe. It would be a fitting end if you were the one to send me to my maker," she spoke, her voice cracking and the tears streaming freely down her face.

"Only now do I see the magnitude of what I helped create. Please, just get it over with," she pleaded.

The hitman found himself at a loss for words, but never lowered his gun. Given the duplicitous nature of the company she worked for, he figured it would be easy to dismiss her sudden show of conscience as an act, but this woman was different. He could see the genuine emotion in her speckled hazel eyes, the awareness and remorse over what had occurred, the longing to correct a great wrong. How many other people could he say that about in Umbrella? Most of them were probably too blinded by money and power to ever show such repentance over something like the Raccoon incident.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" the woman choked out, "Aren't you going to punish me for what I've done to you?"

Jake looked at the researcher long and hard before lowering his rifle and taking a deep breath.

"Wh-wh-what are you doing?" she asked staring at him in disbelief.

"I don't kill innocent people," Jake replied.

"What do you mean?" she asked, "I contributed to what happened to you didn't I? I work for Umbrella! There's blood on my hands because of this!"

"Not everybody who works for Umbrella is guilty," the hitman spoke with a nod.

The woman stared at him wordlessly, bracing herself against the workstation.

"I met one of your colleagues. Sebastian Ramsey his name was, good man, truly believed he could help others up until the end. You're not the only person within your ranks who has a conscience," Jake replied, softening his tone.

"Sebastian…" the woman gasped, "…he didn't make it?"

"I'm afraid not," Jake replied, "He died trying to do the right thing, showing not everybody in your ranks is a monster. He went through things no man ever should and I know that wasn't his fault. If anybody is worthy of forgiveness it's him."

The woman didn't reply and collapsed into a nearby swivel chair, taking off her glasses and massaging her temples. "I don't know if there's much else that can be done," she ruefully sighed, "The virus is out and so are the B.O.W.'s. If there was anything that could be done, it's already passed us by. If anybody else is still within the city limits they are as good as dead."

Jake's thoughts then shifted to his companions. They were still in good shape as far as he knew and would possess a more realistic chance of making it out alive.

"There are still people out there you can help," he said to the woman, who returned a quizzical expression, "I'm sure there are still necessary amenities they can be provided."

"Well…" the woman trailed before finding her words, "…there was a vaccine one of my colleagues was working on before all of this happened."

The word 'vaccine' caught the hitman's undivided attention and he approached the workstation where the woman sat.

"Are you telling me there's been a vaccine for this virus the entire time?" he demanded.

"Well yes…but if you're already infected I don't know if there's much that could be done for you," the woman replied, steeling herself for the angry outburst that was likely to follow. "It's still a prototype by this point and we've never tested it on a live subject before."

"Well I'm still interested in finding out more," Jake said pulling up a stool and sitting down in front of the woman.

The woman stared at him warily before nodding. "Well I'll see what I can do for you…mister?"

"Call me Jake," he spoke in a sign of trust to the sympathetic researcher.

"I'm Harriet Blanton. I wish we could have met under better terms, but obviously that's not to be," she spoke as she carefully removed her bloodied latex gloves.

"Well there's no turning back now. Just tell me what you know," Jake replied.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few minutes had passed and Jake now feasted on a sandwich while Dr. Blanton analyzed a blood sample he submitted.

"Indeed you have been infected, but I notice something weird about your sample in particular," the researcher replied taking her eye away from the microscope and lowering her glasses back into place.

Jake lowered his sandwich and eyed the woman suspiciously, "What are you talking about?" he asked walking up behind her.

"I don't really know how to explain it, but I noticed the virus progress rather slowly through your bloodstream compared to other carriers we've studied. Indeed it's a small miracle you are in full control of your faculties, but for some reason you seem to possess a very high level of resistance," she explained stepping aside and allowing the hired gun to view his blood sample beneath the microscope. "Then again, when did you say you were infected?"

"By this point I'd say about an hour or so ago," the hitman replied, eye transfixed on his own mutating blood sample.

"Hmm, then again it could be too early to judge," Dr. Blanton spoke, tapping lightly on her chin.

"Are you sure I'm anything different compared to the other people you've tested?" Jake asked as he looked up.

"From what I've seen firsthand the time between infection and zombification differs from person to person," the doctor explained looking at some nearby files. "These dossiers I have here list all the physical statistics of people I've studied, based on height, weight, health history, genetics, whether or not they used prescription medications, if they smoked or consumed alcohol, practically everything a physician would want to know."

"Anything I should know in particular?" Jake asked reclining against one of the desks and crossing his arms.

"Not much else I can say other than it's very unpredictable," Dr. Blanton said looking uneasily toward him. "I've seen a woman taken from the streets who barely weighed ninety pounds and she managed to hold on for nearly forty-eight hours before she succumbed to the virus. On the other hand, I've watched a man who was roughly three inches taller than you and about eighty pounds heavier who transformed a little less than an hour after infection."

"Anybody you know of who lasted more than forty-eight hours?" Jake asked staring down at some dead skin on his fingertips.

"I'm afraid not," the researcher replied scratching the back of her neck, "and if there was anybody it's safe to say they're no longer around."

Jake stood upright and decided to change the subject, "So tell me more about this vaccine you mentioned. What do you know about it?"

Dr. Blanton took some time to compose herself before she began speaking, "I had a colleague over at Raccoon University named Peter Jenkins who began to develop it at the behest of another researcher named Greg Mueller, a shady bastard whom I don't trust and quite frankly, I don't think he trusted him much either. He only went along with it because he wanted to do what was right for the people.

"I know it was developed recently, but due to the close eye the company kept on them, he was never able to test the antidote on a human test subject. He knew it would have aroused too much suspicion. However, he claimed to have carried out a trial run on a rabbit exposed to the virus and said it had succeeded in destroying traces of the T-Virus immediately.

"He wasn't able to find out whether the results were permanent because Greg carted the rabbit off and did God knows what with it," Dr. Blanton trailed off, shuddering at the thought of what could have befallen the innocent animal. Jake remained silent and allowed the woman to gather her thoughts.

"Peter talked about sending samples for Dr. Boyd and me to analyze, calling it 'Daylight' because in his own words there was 'no need for an Umbrella in the Daylight'," she continued, "He knew it would have been a gamble, but he was eager to get results and was confident he could convince Dr. Steinway to smuggle some samples down here for us.

"I don't know if they managed to get them down here due to the outbreak, but I do recall a case arriving for Boyd and I before things went to hell," Dr. Blanton finished, again rubbing her sore temples.

"Any idea what could have happened to this case?" Jake asked leaning closer to the woman.

"I really don't know to tell you the truth. It's been so hectic around here with everything that's gone on that a lot of important things have been misplaced. Boyd and I had to fight tooth and nail to get back here and when we finally did, it was gone.

"We haven't had the time to go out looking for it because of the specimens getting loose, plus we had to tend to Dr. Malden," she said looking back towards the area obscured by the privacy screens. "I managed to get him stabilized just before you arrived, but I don't know how much time he has left. Boyd and Spreckles went on a supply run and neither one of them ever came back," she said looking towards the duffel bag Jake brought along.

"Are you sure you and Boyd were the only ones around here who knew about it?" Jake asked taking another look around the lab, "Think there could have been anybody else that might've overheard you chatting with Peter and then try to take all the glory for themselves?"

"I really don't know what to tell you, but now that I think about it, there is a security station nearby where we could probably use the cameras to look around for it," Dr. Blanton said rising to her feet.

"Well then what are we waiting for? Let's get moving," Jake said drawing his rifle and making his way for the door. He waited for the doctor to grab her Beretta and lead the way.

It wasn't a long walk and within moments they were arriving at another door. Dr. Blanton swiped her card through the reader and they stepped into a ransacked quarters with all the lockers looted and the gun racks stripped dry. Fortunately, the monitors were still functional and they made their way over for any clue as to the elusive cure's whereabouts.

Most of the images displayed showed the aftermath of a full-scale T-Virus rampage with lengthy corridors, break rooms and large laboratories either littered with corpses or teeming with mutants created by the sinister germ. The only sign of life they detected had been in the form of two remaining guards mounting one brave last stand against the living dead, Dr. Blanton shifting to another camera before they could be overwhelmed by their aggressors.

The researcher continued her search through the multitude of cameras until Jake saw an image that made him stop and take notice.

"Wait!" the hitman ordered, grabbing the woman by her shoulder and pointing towards one of the top row monitors, "Zoom in on that image right there!"

In a large room full of generators, Claire Redfield was fighting for her life, and that of Sherry Birkin, who cowered behind the young woman as they were approached by the behemoth from the police station.

"_That freak must be one of those 'Tyrants,'" _Jake thought as he watched the woman stand her ground, firing a barrage of explosive shells into the approaching giant's chest. She was in desperate need of assistance and didn't have much time left.

"Oh my god," Dr. Blanton muttered as she watched the emotionless brute walk into the blasts without flinching.

"Can you tell me where she is? I have to help her," Jake demanded as he stared intently at the battle taking place.

"Hold on," the doctor replied and her fingers flew across the keyboard before she found the destination, "She's in the power station, Level B-4!"

Jake nodded and rushed towards the door, only to stop himself as it slid open and he turned to face the researcher one last time, "Are you sure this is what you want? To be left here alone?"

"Yes, please just leave me here. I don't deserve to see the outside world after all that I've done. If there is any way you can repay me, just save that woman and anybody else you can find. Make sure the word gets out so that Spencer and his boys can pay for what they've done," the woman spoke in a somber tone of resolve.

"Thank you Harriet Blanton," Jake nodded, "I won't forget your kindness."

"Thank you Jake," the woman replied, "Just save that woman."

With a nod the mysterious man disappeared and she was left alone.

"_Please…somebody just make it out of this alive," _she silently pleaded as she returned her attention to the monitors, watching as the man approached an elevator.

Even though he was infected, she couldn't help but feel a sense of optimism. _"I don't know what it is, but there's a strange aura about him that makes me think he's not as doomed as he believes himself to be."_

A loud clatter came from behind and before the researcher could turn around, a hand clamped over her mouth and a blade was drawn across her throat.

The commando callously tossed the dead researcher aside and made his way over to the bank of monitors, taking note of the location Jake was headed for as he tapped on his built-in microphone.

"Make sure our men clear out of the B-4 level. Cavanaugh is on his way," the man spoke.

"_Roger that!" _a voice spoke from the other end.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sherry, get back now!" Claire shouted to the little girl behind her. Turning back, the bald-head golem continued its unflinching stride towards them, no evidence of fear on its granite features as it stared down the barrel of her M-79 grenade launcher.

Hefting the weapon high, the young woman fired an acidic round into the monster's neck, the brute only staggering slightly making no sounds to indicate whether it was in pain or angry. Firing another round into its face, she took off around the corner while little Sherry knelt down with arms over her head.

"It's not stopping Claire! What are we going to do?" she shouted frantically, her blue eyes wide in horror as the giant's shadow eclipsed the path her companion emerged from.

"We have to get out of here now," Claire ordered, grabbing the girl by the arm and bringing her back to her feet.

Claire Redfield had been traveling through the labs and entered a control room, where she was confronted by a gun-toting Annette Birkin. Demanding to know her daughter's whereabouts, their answer was found when they looked to a nearby monitor to find the little girl being stalked by the seemingly invincible colossus.

Here she was now fighting for their survival as their adversary lumbered towards them, its purpose unknown. She was getting dangerously low on rounds for her grenade launcher and her Browning's ammo was nearly depleted, down to her last clip. It would take some kind of miracle for her to bring the beast down and she was hoping it came fast.

"Please Claire; I can't go on much longer!" Sherry shouted back, on the verge of tears and looking ready to collapse at any second.

The young woman could only watch as the trench coat-wearing giant continued towards them, stomping on the experimental spark shot weapon she had thrown down after seeing it had little effect on it.

She then looked back to the little girl and saw the horror upon her cherubic features.

Claire bonded with the 12 year old girl, becoming much like the big sister she never had in such a short period of time. Despite her tomboyish nature, she possessed a soft spot in her heart for children and was determined to get the innocent little girl out of this nightmare no matter what, even if it meant she had to carry her out on her own back.

"Come on Sweetie, there's still a chance you can do it!" she shouted back trying to sound as encouraging as possible.

By now the brute had appeared in their path and was closing the gap with its lengthy strides. Seeing how close it was, Claire stopped again to fire more acid rounds into the approaching giant.

"You're not killing anybody else you bastard!" Claire defiantly screamed at the approaching behemoth and fired another round.

The round only knocked the giant backward a few steps before it continued forth, the same soulless gaze that would haunt her for a long time after this nightmare had ended. If she was going to die, she would die fighting. The only downside was that there would be nobody left to defend Sherry.

Claire reached into her side pack again and pulled out two more acidic shells, cursing silently as she realized they were her last two of that kind. _"Damn, I've only got three more explosive shells and four napalm rounds after this. I'm gonna be screwed after those run out. I doubt 9mm bullets alone will drop this freak."_

Looking up again, the young woman nearly fainted as the behemoth stood tall over her, its bald head shining brightly beneath the lights as if it were made of crystal. Drawing its hand back the creature was prepared to strike and would crush her skull like it was nothing.

"_Sherry…" _was her last thought.

The rattle of machine gun fire rang out and Claire opened her eyes, expecting to find the pearly white gates of Heaven standing before her. Instead, she found the golem jolting in place as a torrent of hot lead ripped its back apart. Turning around, the brute was met by more rounds to the face and chest, knocking it backward and forcing her to leap out of the way.

Much to her relief, she found Jake Smith standing there with his M4A1 in hand, firing away fearlessly at her stalker.

"Jake, you made it!" she shouted over the popping rounds. She couldn't believe it; he had shown up out of the blue like a black-clad knight in shining armor.

"You looked like you needed a helping hand," he shouted back ejecting his spent clip and loading another, "I owe you one for saving my ass from this bastard back at the station."

Pulling back his rifle's bolt, Jake resumed his assault on the giant, who had now diverted its attention away from the two females.

"Come on," Claire said grabbing Sherry by the arm and racing down the narrow path. They ran to an opening near a lift where Jake stood nearby firing upon the giant.

"Oh my god Jake, come on!" Sherry called out trying to rush towards Jake, but held back by Claire. "C'mon Jake, you can't stop that thing! We've gotta get outta here!"

"Hey kid," Jake shouted back flashing a brief smile to the girl, "Listen to Claire and get out of here now!"

"No! Not without you!" Sherry shouted, trying to escape Claire's grasp, who was now struggling to hold her back by the wrist.

"Sherry, no don't!" Claire shouted again, winning the tug of war.

As the little girl was yanked backwards, the pendant around her neck came loose and clattered to the metallic walkway, opening up to reveal the family portrait encased within.

Jake continued to fire away at the pursing Tyrant until his clip ran dry and he was forced to reload, but not before the brute stood tall above him. He grunted before rolling underneath a powerful backhanded swing and rose to his knees expecting the mutant to continue its assault, but strangely it did not.

"What the hell?" he blurted out.

The Tyrant ignored him and continued towards the two women. Upon further watch, he saw what the brute was really after, walking towards the pendant belonging to Sherry.

Rushing towards her treasured possession, Sherry scooped it up and was transfixed on the portrait of her and her parents from happier times when Claire's blood-curdling scream came from behind, "Sherry look out!"

The girl looked up to see the giant standing over her and drawing its arm back, barely ducking under the swipe that followed.

"Help me!" Sherry shrieked as the monster again drew its large hand back to attempt another swipe.

It suddenly clicked with Claire's mind. "He's after your pendant! The sample's inside!" she shouted outstretching your hand.

"What sample?" Sherry asked dumbfounded.

"_Must be a sample of the G-Virus that Annette was talking about," _Jake thought to himself as he fired another blast into the Tyrant's neck and shoulders, hoping to slow its pursuit of the little girl.

"Please, there's no time to explain! Trust me; you have to get rid of it!" Claire urgently pleaded with the child, "Quick, toss it to me!"

Sherry looked at the woman in shock before finally shouting back, "I can't! My daddy gave this to me!"

"Sherry, you have to listen to me. That brute is after your pendant! You have to get rid of it!" Claire again pleaded, her pleas becoming more urgent as the giant continued its pursuit, ignoring the bullets slamming into it from behind.

"_So that must be why that freak is here," _Jake thought to himself as the Tyrant reached down to grab the girl, only for her to again slip through its fingers as Claire fired another acidic round into its chest.

"Sherry, just do as she says!" the hitman shouted as he ran over and fired a barrage into the side of the giant's face, snapping its head back and sending it reeling against the railing.

Claire tried to help him out, firing another acidic round into the stalker before the launcher emptied and she was sent scrambling through her side pack for more rounds. It wouldn't be long before the Tyrant shot its arm out and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her from the ground as if she weighed mere ounces.

"Sherry, please you've gotta get rid of that pendant," Jake again pleaded, "He'll kill your friend if you don't!"

The little girl stared uneasily towards him, torn between the present from her beloved father and the prospect of losing her newfound best friend. She could sense the graveness of the situation and a solitary tear escaped from the corner of her eye before she reluctantly offered the gold pendant to Jake.

Looking down into the pendant, the hired gun saw all three Birkins together smiling for the camera. Indeed they all looked happy together, but he was left to question how much bliss there truly was within their household, given the shady nature which both elders had to work within and what secrets they likely kept from their own daughter. Nevertheless, it would be all Sherry had left to remember her parents by.

"_Even if they are pieces of shit, they're still her parents," _Jake thought to himself as he reached into a corner of the golden accessory and used his fingernail to pry the picture from its enclosure.

Once he managed to free the picture, he found a tiny vial roughly the size of a small caliber bullet underneath, filled with a strange purple liquid.

"_So this must be the G-Virus," _Jake thought as he stared at the container and then looked back to the Tyrant, _"Don't worry freak. Now you've got something to die for!"_

"Hey asshole," Jake shouted to the gray-skinned giant, who turned to acknowledge him. "Looking for this?" he shouted dangling the pendant by its chain.

True enough, the Tyrant released Claire from its grasp and now focused on him.

Jake waited for the brute to get close and then bolted around his enemy, running over to the railing and looking down into the vat of scorching liquid metal below.

"Here, catch!" he shouted, tossing the pendant.

Ignoring the three survivors entirely, the giant brushed past them and dove over the railing towards the liquid metal, vanishing beneath the surface as quietly as it came.

Jake, Claire and Sherry ran over to the railing and searched for any sign of life.

"Is he gone for good?" Sherry asked worriedly.

"I don't know…" Claire replied, hypnotized by the bright reddish-orange liquid.

"Oh, I've got something for you," Jake said offering Sherry the folded up family portrait.

The little girl said nothing and stared at the photograph. Looking up to the hitman she threw her arms around his waist, embracing him in a tight hug.

Jake said nothing, stroking her blonde hair. _"At least I can say I've done one good deed before I die…if I don't find the antidote," _he told himself, trying to remain hopeful now that he knew something was out there.

He felt another set of eyes upon him and looked up to see Claire standing before him, still feeling the aftereffects of being strangled by the Tyrant. Knowing she was probably low on ammo, he remembered the silenced MP5 he looted from that commando.

"Here, I found this," he said offering her the submachine gun and its ammo, "I think you should have it."

"Thanks," she said eagerly accepting the gun, "I was almost out. You showed up at a good time. I seriously thought we were goners," she exhaled.

"Yeah, nobody deserves that kind of fate," Jake replied with a nod.

Before he could speak any further, he was cut off by the crackle of sparks traveling up the electrical panels across from them. "What the hell?" he asked again. A low rumble was heard and within seconds the room began shaking violently.

"What's going on?" Sherry blurted out as she protectively clung to Claire.

"I don't know," Claire replied as she again looked down to the vat the Tyrant dove into.

"Looks like our bald friend set off some kind of chain reaction," the hitman replied as he tried reaching out for them, only to be halted as a large beam fell and created a gap between him and his two companions.

"Jake!" Claire shouted trying to look around the beam, but was stopped abruptly as debris began raining down from the ceiling.

"Get Sherry out of here now!" he shouted over the rumble.

"But-" Claire tried to call out.

"Just do it!" Jake ordered, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine! Just worry about getting Sherry out of here!"

The debris continued falling and soon he could hear the groaning of the platform giving out beneath him. Looking around hurriedly for an exit, he found another airlock door and charged towards it as the platform collapsed behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Jake!" Sherry called out, her voice cracking and the tears flowing freely down her face, "Jake!"

"Sherry come on, we have to go!" Claire called out, wrapping her arm around the 12 year old and dragging her out of the room.

"No, we can't leave him! We can't leave him behind!" Sherry screeched hysterically, clawing away at the air with her free arm, "He's gonna die if we leave him!"

Claire stared worriedly towards the direction Jake ran off in, noticing how the platform had buckled underneath him. She also noticed the airlock door at the end of the collapsed catwalk, praying silently he had somehow made it.

"He's gotta be alright," she said to Sherry, who still shrieked wildly up until they finally exited the cavernous room and found themselves in an adjoining corridor.

"Sherry please, you have to calm down!" Claire pleaded as she finally released the girl from her grip and stepped in front of her to prevent her from running away. "Please, there's nothing more we could do for him! He's going to make it!"

The preteen girl stopped crying and glared hatefully towards her companion, "And how do you know that? He's all by himself!"

"He's a tough guy Sherry. I know he is," Claire said placing a hand on her shoulder and kneeling down so she could look the girl in her eyes, "He's survived six days in this place and look at him, he's still alive and well. Think about how he protected you. Don't you think he handled himself pretty well?"

Sherry nodded sheepishly in reply.

"Alright, you have to have faith in his abilities Sherry. If you don't believe in him, then he won't make it out alive. I have faith he's going to be alright," Claire spoke in the most soothing tone she could muster.

"Do you really think there could be angels out there watching over him?" Sherry suddenly asked, "You know, I mean like the kind you have on your vest."

Claire was a bit surprised by the girl's question, but wanted to do whatever she could to calm her.

"I'm very sure there are. I believe there are angels out there watching over us. There must be something out there protecting us if we are still alive," Claire said as she began unzipping her vest and then reached over to place it on Sherry.

"Wh-what are you doing Claire?" the girl asked as her companion zipped the vest up.

"It's yours now," Claire said standing up to her full height, "Now you have an angel to protect you."

"Uh, thank you, but what about you?" Sherry asked.

"I don't need to have an angel on me to know I am protected, but you can have one for yourself. It will never leave you if you don't let it. Let it protect you," Claire replied with a smile.

"Thank you Claire. I'm sorry about acting out like that," Sherry said wrapping her arms around her surrogate big sister.

"Don't worry about it honey, I know you were scared for your friend. I have faith Jake will make it. There is an angel protecting him."

A low moan called out from a distance and Claire turned around with her silenced MP5 raised, seeing a shadowy figure come shambling from around the corner.

"Right now we've got other problems to worry about," the young woman said as she leveled her gun at the new threat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake was alone once again, now maneuvering his way through a darkened corridor, illuminated only by the beam of his flashlight attachment and the flashing klaxons in the adjoining lab.

He was still feeling fatigued from the recent encounter with the Tyrant and had to stop a few seconds to brace himself against the nearest wall.

This wasn't the first time he had felt worn out after a big battle in the nightmare city, but he realized how he had a particularly difficult time catching his breath this time around.

"_Guess I'm getting closer," _Jake thought, _"Blanton warned me about that bigger guy who turned within an hour of infection…guess I might not be one of the lucky ones like that little lady she mentioned." _He took some time before regaining his strength and rounded a corner, passing another lab and coming to a grinding halt.

He found himself in front of a viral research lab, where more zombies pressed against bulletproofed windows trying to get at him, while even more could be heard pounding away at the entrance, but were thankfully sealed away by a hermetic lock.

At the same time, he couldn't help but stare into their ghoulish, rotting faces and think to himself, _"Am I truly destined to become one of them?"_

"_Damn it Jake, stop thinking like that," _he tried to tell himself_, "There is a cure somewhere out there."_

"_Somewhere is the key word," _a more pessimistic voice called out, _"This 'Daylight' could be anywhere and this looks to be a pretty vast facility. You're looking for a needle in a haystack here. How can you be certain you won't turn before finding it, if it even is here? Blanton wasn't sure whether or not it made it. More importantly, how can you be certain it will even work?"_

"Damn," he hissed, snapping himself back to reality. Never before did he have a war of emotions of this magnitude raging within his psyche.

"_I'm supposed to be the master here. I'm supposed to be the one in full control over my emotions. Maybe it's the T-Virus eating away at me," _he told himself, worrying if he was beginning to crack after everything he had experienced and that the viral strain was only furthering the process. _"Even if I do make it out of this shithole alive they'd probably execute me before they commit me," _he thought with dark sarcasm.

The lapse back into reality also brought the burning feeling of irritation, traveling up and down his wounded leg.

"Fuck," he hissed shaking his leg and rubbing it against the wall. There was an irresistible temptation to reach down and scratch the area, but he had to wonder if it would only hasten the conversion. "No," he whispered to himself and forcibly shoved his right hand into his pocket, gripping it onto the small bottle of recovery meds.

Ripping it out of his pocket he eagerly unscrewed the cap and dropped a pill into his hand, forcing it into his mouth and chomping down on it before swallowing it whole. He kept an iron grip on the bottle hoping it would deter him from scratching and nearly crushed it as he waited for the urge to subside.

"_Wonder how long that's gonna last," _Jake thought as he rounded the corner only to find another corpse dressed like a member of the research staff lying face down. Finding a piece of concrete lying nearby, he picked it up and tossed it at the prone body. When the corpse didn't jerk he knew it was truly dead and walked past it. Upon closer look, he found a bullet that had torn through the man's heart

"_At least you died with your humanity intact," _he thought, noting the man's smooth human skin as he walked past.

To the hired gun, dying human was a luxury compared to wandering the earth as one of the living dead, one thousands of people had been deprived of in the nightmare city.

"_The only difference between us and them is we bury our dead," _he thought as he happened across another body, this one twitching with signs of life. Before it could move any further, Jake ended its cursed existence with a bullet to the back of its skull, his gunshot echoing through the shadowy corridor.

"Huh? What was that?" the hitman asked perking his ears up.

A frightened murmur could be heard in the distance, too far away to discern the gender. Whipping his gun around, Jake found the hall behind him lit from a corner by a tiny red bulb and he noticed another shadow. Judging by the speed he guessed it was human.

"Alright, no more fun and games! Show yourself or else I'm putting a bullet in your fucking head, no questions asked. Now come here!" he shouted to the figure.

The faceless person initially stood still, but then began walking towards him until he directed his rifle at its head.

"Alright, you've come far enough! Slow down and walk towards me!" Jake barked at the approaching individual, who gave a small sigh and continued forth.

"J-Jake…Jake?"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Alright folks, this wraps up my latest installment of "Reborn." It's been years since I've played the game, but according to the RE2 guidebook, I believe in Claire's "B" scenario Mr. X dives into the vat of liquid metal and that's what causes the self-destruct sequence after he dives into the vat after Sherry's pendant. Obviously I've had to rework that scene for the sake of my story and I also rework the scene explaining how Sherry gets Claire's vest because I don't believe she ever gets infected in her "B" scenario and I'm not going to have her infected in this story either.

Well that's it for now so tune in until next time when we see what else awaits our antihero and as always, read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	41. Ch 40: Bittersweet Reunion

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 40: Bittersweet Reunion

That voice, a voice he recognized. Its feminine tone usually sharp and assertive was now unsure, yet hopeful at the same time.

"Oh my god…could it be?" the unseen woman asked walking towards Jake, slowly making her way into the light.

Stepping towards the hired gun, the glow revealed her once elegant red suit, now covered in filth and tears. Hanging in the woman's hand was a Franchi SPAS-12 assault shotgun.

"Oh my god!" the woman called out as she stood fully bathed in the brilliant light, her short, stylishly cut blonde hair mattered with sweat and filth, yet her face remained untouched. Her usual scowl was replaced by a look of shock as her jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Alyssa?" Jake asked his tone one of rare genuine surprise.

"Holy shit! Jake, it really is you!" Alyssa Ashcroft called out, her shock turning to happiness. Dropping her shotgun she ran over and threw her arms around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace, a move he considered out of character for the icy reporter.

"Uh hey, I'm glad to see you too…" Jake replied gently patting the woman's lower back, still unsure of what to make of her sudden change in character. _"The last time I saw you, you were bitching at everything that moved and dead set on getting your Pulitzer," _he thought to himself, thinking her to be someone who didn't like being touched to the point she wouldn't hesitate to flip a man to the ground even if he accidentally nudged her. He quickly dismissed those thoughts, believing she was just grateful to see another human being alive and well.

As soon as she latched onto him, the reporter pushed herself away and muttered a quick apology looking down to the floor.

"What are you doing down here?" Jake asked again looking over the filth covering her before focusing on the hall she emerged from.

"I could ask you the same thing, how you made it down to this secret lab of all places? I'd ask more, but I doubt we have much time to sit around for a coffee clutch," Alyssa spoke again looking down to her shotgun, "We'd better find a more secure place to talk, if such a place even exists right now."

Jake looked back to the undead researcher and thought of the zombies in the nearby lab. "You're right, we'd better get moving if you wanna live long enough to get that Pulitzer you were fretting over the last time I saw you."

"I see you remember well," Alyssa said narrowing her eyes, "and I'm not fretting as much as you think. I _know _we are sitting on top of a major scoop that could very well mean the downfall of an international corporation with more skeletons in its closet than there were people in Raccoon. That is certainly Pulitzer material right there."

"I'd say, just as long as it's something to put these fuckers out of business for good," Jake spoke walking alongside the investigative reporter.

"Believe me; I've seen my fair share of bullshit down here to the point where I honestly don't care if a few slobs are left without jobs in the end," Alyssa spoke with an air of disgust, "Umbrella has been doing this crap all along. Now I know those S.T.A.R.S. members weren't high on anything when they came back from the Spencer Estate. Then again, nobody wants to believe such things could occur."

"Amen to that. I sure as hell didn't believe the walking dead could have existed before I came to this shithole. No doubt I would've been among the detractors," the hitman replied, thinking of how foolish he could have been.

"Raccoon City was a shithole long before you came," Alyssa responded in her typical headstrong edge, "Umbrella controlling practically everything and forcing a bunch of mom and pop joints out of business, a fat corrupted pig as a police chief, political scandals covered up by Mayor Warren's administration…I could go on and on," she explained as they reached another airlock door.

Jake brought his hand up, "You got anything else besides that broken down toy of yours?" he asked looking down to the barely held together firearm.

"Just my stun gun and I doubt that'll do much good against some of the things running around down here," she said ejecting the unused shells from its chamber and dumping them into her pocket, "One of those lizard things broke it not too long ago. Doubt I could intimidate them into submission. I had that Beretta you gave me a couple days ago too, but I don't know what happened to that."

Without a word, Jake removed one of his Berettas from its holster and handed it to the reporter. "Take it, you'll need it more than I do right now," he said before handing her two additional clips.

"Right," Alyssa nodded tossing the broken shotgun to the floor.

Returning his attention to the door, Jake pulled out his keycard and slid it through the reader. A garbled ding weakly called out and the door only slid open a crack before it stopped.

"What the hell?" the hitman grumbled as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and slid his fingers between the small crack and with a labored grunt, tried to pull the stalled door aside. The door was wider than he had given credit for and he struggled under every tug.

"Here, let me help," Alyssa said walking up alongside him and placing her own hands on the edge. The duo pulled in unison and despite their great physical strength, it took several tries that left their palms throbbing and their joints stiffened before they managed enough space for the slimmer reporter to slide through. It would take even more effort before the muscular hired gun to inch his way through.

"Alright, I'm in," Jake whispered as he raised his rifle and switched on his flashlight attachment.

They now found themselves in a darkened hall where most of the ceiling tiles had been ripped away and several sliced wires hanging down. None of them appeared live and the hitman's light followed a charred path to a power box, which looked to be damaged by gunfire.

"Looks like we've lost our only 'On' switch," Alyssa remarked, her quip turning to a frightened gasp as Jake's light shone upon a bullet-riddled figure lying in the middle of the corridor.

It was another one of those one-armed, yellow-skinned brutes, most of this mutant's atrophied flesh blackened, perhaps the victim of the said electrocution.

"What the hell is that thing?" she blurted out upon noticing her foot was dangerously close to the beast's enormous hand.

"Definitely not something friendly," Jake replied, "I encountered one of these not too long ago, didn't seem too tough, as long as you can avoid its hand."

"Ha ha!" Alyssa sarcastically spat, "Anything else I should know about?"

"Cleaners," Jake replied.

"Come again?" the reporter demanded.

"There was this chump I took out earlier that was armed to the teeth, but obviously he's no longer a threat if I'm here chatting with you right now," Jake replied. "I had no idea who he was working for, aside from him possibly being one of Umbrella's boys. I encountered some researchers who mentioned something about a 'retrieval unit' possibly being sent in.

"Only problem is, they might be under orders to shoot everything that moves, including those who can still beg for mercy," the hitman added.

Alyssa visibly paled at the thought of armed troopers storming the complex. "As if things couldn't get any worse," she sighed placing a hand to her forehead, "I've heard rumors of Umbrella using harsh methods to silence their employees. Why didn't I see that coming from a mile away? Knowing them, we know too much already and they'll be out for our heads."

"Heh, don't all big businesses have dirty little secrets that need to be kept?" Jake scoffed, "Whatever the case, I'm working on getting us out of here and I'm not letting any of those spooks get anywhere near us if I can help it."

"I sure hope you can follow through with that promise," Alyssa replied, "Not that I doubt your abilities or anything, but with everything you've been through I hope you're not too weary to keep moving forward."

"Six days I've been in this nightmare, six long, hellacious days in this damned town. I've blasted my way through God knows how many zombies, fighting my way out of places I thought would provide shelter, only to find them overflowing with more of those freaks, and now I'm blasting my way through yet another shithole. Believe me; I've been through Hell and back."

"We've all been through Hell," Alyssa countered, her tone drifting far away, "None of us will be the same once we've made it out of here, if we ever do."

"You didn't come alone did you?" Jake asked.

Alyssa nodded, "Kevin and Yoko are wandering around here somewhere. We got separated fighting this critter that grew from a baby to an adult in a matter of seconds. It nearly killed me, but he saved me from it, just like any good cop should. We were together afterward, but more of those large lizards appeared and we got separated."

"Is it just them? Were you with anybody else?" Jake asked as they continued through the darkness.

The reporter's gaze darkened and she took a few moments to reply.

"Phil was with us, that one fellow from the streets. When that freak with the rocket launcher blew up the van it was the three of us along with him. We managed to get to the subway, but there was some large flea that got a hold of him…and then we never saw him again."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jake replied looking down to the shorter woman. He was never close to any of the survivors so he didn't really know how to act in a situation like this. Judging by her tone, he could tell the usually domineering reporter may have tried bonding with the troubled man. She did seem saddened by his loss.

Alyssa nodded ruefully before looking over to her companion, "What about you? Did you come with anybody?"

Jake returned the nod, "Yeah, I came with some rookie cop named Leon and some woman named Ada. There's also this girl who came to find her brother Chris, Claire Redfield her name is. She said her brother was one of the S.T.A.R.S. members. There was also a little girl with her, Sherry," he explained, purposely ignoring any mentions of her mother Annette.

"Good, I say we just find who we can and try to get the hell outta here alive," the reporter spoke cautiously taking in her surroundings as they continued through the darkened corridor.

"And deal some rough justice on those scumbags while we're at it," Jake added.

"We've been gathering all the information we can and we need to find Yoko," Alyssa replied, "She has files, letters, memos, diaries, photos and anything else we can use to pin against these bastards in that knapsack of hers."

"Sounds like a good idea," Jake replied as they approached another airlock door that had been left partially opened due to the power outage. "Shall we?"

"Let's," Alyssa nodded and they both approached the automatic door, using all their strength to push it open to the point where both of them could fit their bodies through.

The duo found themselves in another corridor that was thankfully well-lit, yet were halted by the sounds of slurping and lips smacking.

"It's coming from around that corner," Jake whispered, motioning for the reporter to follow him as he switched off his flashlight attachment and crept towards the opening, which led to a cafeteria on a lower level. The vast room was a mess with tables overturned, supply boxes ripped open with their contents strewn about, and several bodies in the northeastern corner that had been pulled out from underneath their white sheets and torn apart by the current inhabitants.

It looked as if the room had once served as some kind of makeshift infirmary, just like when he had been in the R.P.D.'s cafeteria, and just like that, this one had been overrun.

"Shit," Alyssa hissed from behind him, disgusted by the sight of the various mangled corpses sprawled all over the black and white tiled floor.

Jake ignored her, counting seven zombies total, all of whom seemed oblivious to their presence. "Looks like we've got no choice but to go through them," he whispered back, his eyes set on the double doors at the opposite side.

Raising his rifle, the hitman rained hot lead down upon the feasting dead, managing to drop one with a round to the skull and then lowering his aim to drop another kneeling over the carcass of a woman. The other zombies were alerted by the savage crackling and began staggering towards him, leaving them opened to be mowed down while Alyssa appeared alongside him and sniped the remaining attackers. In the end, all zombies lay accounted for.

"Alright, let's move," Jake ordered walking down the ramp, taking note of Alyssa's sickened expression.

"Whatever you say," the reporter sighed as she maneuvered her way around the corpses with a wary eye, making sure none of them would rise again.

The hitman on the other hand, wasn't able to heed his own advice, his eyes transfixed upon his handiwork.

_"Is that going to be me pretty soon? Lying on the floor with a bullet between my eyes?" _he asked himself, just before he was interrupted by the reporter accidentally bumping into him.

"I thought you said to move it?" she snapped, "Awful good at following your own orders, aren't you pal?"

"Whatever," Jake grunted as he saw they were close to a supply crate and looked inside to find two cans of first aid spray, offering one to the reporter and keeping one for himself. "Now we can get out of here."

They made their way into the adjoining hall and slammed the doors shut behind them. With nothing to wedge them shut, they could only keep moving forward, until the ceiling tiles collapsed behind them.

From out of the darkness fell another Licker, letting out its trademark ragged hiss before shooting its tongue at the reporter. Fortunately she had been quicker and back stepped the attack, raising her pistol and firing a few rounds at the mutant. Due to its advanced hearing, the red-skinned beast was able to hear every squeeze of the trigger and clung to the nearest wall to dodge her shots. Rearing its head back for another strike, the nightmarish creature propelled itself airborne.

A thunderous crack rang out and within a split second, the Licker's tortured existence ceased.

Jake had thrown himself in front of the woman and discharged his magnum, his gaze flinty as he watched the blood gush from his fresh kill.

"Thanks…I owe you one now," Alyssa told him, her bright pink lips forming a rare smile as he turned to face her.

"Don't mention it. Now, we should really keep moving," Jake replied breaking the stare down and continuing down the hall, coming to another door that would require his keycard.

"Wait," Alyssa spoke up as she noticed a directory hanging on the nearby wall, "Level B-3 Synthesis Laboratories, Archives, Armory, Holding Pens and Viral Research," she read aloud before turning to face Jake, "No telling what they might be storing in this area."

"Well if there's an armory nearby then hopefully we can get some more ammo to deal with whatever they've got here, and get you something bigger than that Beretta," Jake said looking down to the gun he had given her.

Knowing they would be entering a volatile area, the hired gun checked his guns over one last time. He then looked up to Alyssa, who held onto the Beretta with both hands like she was deathly afraid of dropping it. The look in her eyes allowed him to sense the fear and uncertainty within. Knowing her, she wouldn't admit it but he could sense she had changed much over the past few days.

_"You've gotta stay strong through this. We don't need you cracking to the point you're jumping at everything that moves like Jim Chapman," _Jake thought as they stepped into another sterile-looking white hallway with eight doors, four on each side, leading to various laboratories and creating a lot of additional ground to cover. He was about to say something when the burning sensation suddenly returned to him, amplified by ten times.

"Are you alright?" Alyssa asked as she noticed the black-clad man gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes shut.

Jake heard the reporter's question, but wasn't able to answer.

_"Damn it, not now!" _he mentally screamed feeling his muscles tense up. He had to do everything in his power to avoid scratching his calf wound. Knowing the woman's sharpness, she would be able to tell something was wrong regardless of what he said.

"Jake? Is everything alright?" she asked placing a hand on his arm.

The sensation of the woman's hand felt like a hot iron being taken to his flesh and he shook his arm free.

"I'm fine!" the hired gun snapped, catching himself when he realized his tone had come across too harshly and he opened his eyes to see the reporter staring at him in bewilderment. "I'm sorry about that…really…I'm alright…"

"Well okay then," she said stepping back and placing a hand on her hip.

"Yeah," Jake replied looking around, "We've got quite a bit of ground to cover. We should split up and look for anything of use. Why don't you take those doors over on the right and I'll search the rooms over here," he said gesturing behind him.

"Alright…whatever you say. You're the alpha male around here," Alyssa replied, giving him one of those glances that said _"I know you're hiding something from me."_

"Sure thing," he said stepping towards one of the labs, "Holler if you need anything."

"Right," the reporter replied before disappearing into the first lab on the left.

_"She's not prodding me like some nosey bitch reporter typically would, so something really must be wrong with her," _Jake thought, _"The Alyssa Ashcroft I met five nights ago seemed like somebody who would move a mountain for answers over the littlest of things, even if it was over somebody not giving her the right drink."_

Jake made his way into the first laboratory, which completely contradicted the corridor's cleanliness, an omen of the volatility he sensed.

Lying in the corner to his left he bumped the door against a corpse resting in the corner, unable to make out its cause of death. A dead security guard lay prostrate not far away and further spread throughout the room were five more bodies, four deceased researchers, all displaying jagged cuts along their bodies, and a custodial worker with an empty revolver in hand, having taken his own life.

The itching sensation reminded the assassin of the real reason he had wanted to get away from Alyssa. Shoving his hand into his pocket he pulled out the pill bottle and quickly dumped another blue and white capsule into his hand and quickly woofed it down. It took a few minutes before he finally calmed himself and relaxed on a nearby table.

_"Goddamn it, this shit's only getting worse," _he told himself, gripping the table's wooden sides until his nails were digging in, _"I wonder if I'll still be standing the next time I get one of these spells."_

Jake's attention then turned to the bodies lying around the room and as the door slowly swung shut he was given a full view of the corpse he had sandwiched on his way in. It was another security guard with his skin the sickly ashen hue of a typical zombie, his chest torn apart by a barrage of automatic fire.

It brought his thoughts back to Alyssa.

_"I couldn't tell her what was going on; she probably would have wanted to put me out of my misery right away," _he told himself staring towards the hallway, _"Although she probably knows something is up right now."_

The bullet in his breast pocket suddenly felt very heavy and he placed a hand over it.

_"When the time comes, I'm not letting her put me down. She doesn't need that on her conscience," _he told himself, deciding his fate would be carried out by his own hand.

His gaze returned to the shot up zombie and he smirked to himself, _"A little over two hours…at least I've survived longer than that brick house Dr. Blanton told me about," _he thought as he looked over to a nearby counter where a smashed chemistry set resided. There was a small plastic bin bag that caught his attention and he walked over to find it contained several photos.

"Well what do we have here?" he asked as he rifled through the pictures, all displaying the same horrific creatures he had found back in that large autopsy room, including one of those one-armed brutes he killed not too long ago, the name _'Bandersnatch' _written on the back.

"Something I will actually need," he whispered as he took another look over every photo, which included images such as ordinary townspeople being dragged away by masked gunmen, a bunch of zombies corralled into a cramped space, Hunters tearing away at a beef cow, a golden-eyed Chimera reaching for the camera with one of its scythe-like mandibles, and some before and after photos of zombies morphing into Crimson Heads and later into Lickers.

Near the bag he also found a note and scooped it up:

_September 29, 1998_

_ My life is officially over as I write this. Everything has gone to hell around me and it is entirely my employer's fault, those arrogant bastards have killed us all. Everybody else is dead: the researchers, the techs, security, everybody!_

_ Please, somebody end this madness once and for all! For the sake of all that is pure and innocent stop these bastards!_

_ Martin Aberdeen_

"Don't worry pal, somebody will," Jake said aloud folding the piece of paper and sliding it into the bag of pictures, "On to door number 2."

In the next lab he was met by the sight of bodies once again.

_"Then again, what else can I expect?" _he asked himself as he found a researcher with his face buried in the cushions of a tan couch now stained by his blood, his throat torn out from behind. Throughout the room there were several more corpses bearing large gashes and another who had been shot up completely, a telltale sign he had turned before his passing. A loud moan came from the corner and from beneath an overturned shelf another zombie tried to crawl out. Saying nothing, Jake pulled out his katana and cut the cadaver's head off.

The hitman was about to move on until he was stopped by a small pile of discs that had fallen from the overturned shelf. Normally he would have walked past them, but each of them contained _'B.O.W.' _on the label followed by the particular creature's name.

"These could be of use," he whispered as he knelt down to scoop the discs up, "I've found a freaking goldmine down here. Now I've just gotta find out if the last two rooms have anything to offer."

As he approached the third door, Jake heard a clicking sound and quietly put his ear to the door, hearing only the weird croaking noise a Hunter Gamma could make. Deciding to break out the heavy firepower, the hitman withdrew his S&W and cocked the hammer raising it high as he hugged the wall. Gripping the door handle he threw it open hard enough for it to echo.

A lone Hunter stood before him, towering over the remnants of three researchers with fresh bloody chunks dripping from its claws. The frog-like creature spun around the second Jake came barreling into the room, letting out a bone-jarring shriek as it threw its claws into the air preparing another strike.

With the grace and accuracy of a seasoned gunfighter, Jake fired a lone round into the creature's face, obliterating it.

"That wouldn't have gotten me an A in Mr. Kirzinger's class, but still gets the job done," he whispered with a smirk.

"Jake, is everything alright?" Alyssa's voice called out.

"I'm fine. One of those frog freaks was around, but not anymore," the hired gun shouted back, "How are you holding up over there?"

"Finding quite a bit that I think could put these bastards away for a million lifetimes," the reporter announced.

"Heh, can't go any farther than just a million?" Jake called back as he continued his investigation.

This lab wasn't much different from the previous labs, except that much of the room had been blackened by a recent fire extinguished by the overhead sprinkler system. Several cardboard boxes had been nearly burnt to a crisp with their charred contents wafting through the air, some still burning. Broken glass and spent casings cracked underneath the hitman's boots as he milled about, eventually brushing against the remnants of another one of those commandos with a warped Ingram MAC 10 in hand.

"If finding corpses torn apart in every horrific way possible was a job I'd be rolling around in one hundred dollar bills right now," Jake grunted as he searched around the lab, but found nothing of use. Only one lab was left after this one and he hoped he would be able to find something else that could be useful in his battle against Umbrella. He had found a cache of valuable information that would be admissible before any senate hearing, but a little more never hurt.

_"Wonder if bringing these bastards down would be enough to get me a pardon?" _he asked himself when he thought of the senate hearings that could follow if this information got out to the rest of the world.

The final lab to his relief was much cleaner and appeared free of any dangers. Everything seemed spotless like a lab should be and in good working order. One of the computers had been left on and he made a beeline for it.

"Let's see what they've got here," Jake said sitting down at the console and moving the mouse around to get rid of the bouncing Umbrella logo screensaver. Typing in a few commands his search brought up a test in progress that had been abandoned halfway, along with some personal e-mails regarding completed and upcoming experiments. It was more evidence that could be used and he smiled as he hit the 'Print' button, the sound of a humming printer being music to his ears. Finding a nearby manila envelope he shoved the papers in and prepared to rendezvous with Alyssa.

Another clanging noise rang out and the hitman whirled around with his rifle drawn, aiming towards a nearby vent that had been knocked open.

"Show yourself freak! Do it now!" Jake roared to his unseen guest, his trigger finger itching.

"Wait…don't shoot!" a timid voice replied.

Scraping noises against the aluminum surface resounded as a figure struggled to pull itself through the cramped quarters. There were a few more clanks before a brown knapsack flew out, followed by a slender hand and then a full head of black hair that obscured the figure's face. Following a few tired grunts, the woman pulled herself all the way out, revealing her tattered green jacket and filthy blue jeans.

"What the hell?" Jake asked as he reached down to help the short woman to her feet. Despite all the dried blood masking most of the newcomer's face, he recognized who it was.

"Yoko?" he asked looking into her dark eyes.

Before him stood Yoko Suzuki, a quiet and studious, yet resourceful young woman who had provided backup support for the survivors during the initial outbreak.

"Jake? Oh thank god!" she gasped, a heavy Desert Eagle falling from her hand as she stood in awe of another familiar face who had survived this long. "What are you doing down here?"

"I could ask you guys the same thing," the assassin replied.

"The others?" Yoko gasped and began trembling at the thought of her missing cohorts.

"I've found Alyssa, she's fine!" Jake said grabbing the woman by her shoulders, "Kevin, I don't know about him. Last I heard he was still missing. Alyssa is nearby and we'd better link back up with her.

"Right," the young woman nodded, "I seriously hope he is alright. I thought that the three of us had been the only survivors in this necropolis and now here you are," she spoke looking directly into his eyes, "Please tell me there are others."

"There are and they're running around here somewhere," Jake nodded before pulling out his radio, "Leon, Claire, either one of you, are you there? I've found more survivors running around down here."

_"Oh Jake, thank god!" _Claire's voice called out, _"I knew you would make it out alright."_

_ "Jake, it's Leon, where are you right now?" _Leon's voice cut in.

"I'm on the B-3 level. I have two survivors accounted for and a possible third running around here somewhere," the hitman reported.

_"Alright, keep them close by. I've got other problems to deal with!" _Leon blurted out as moans were heard from the other end.

_"Jake, it's Sherry," _the girl's voice suddenly called out over the radio, _"I'm so glad to hear you're still alive. Claire was right, there is an angel watching over you!"_

The hired gun smiled at the sound of Sherry's voice. "Hey there, I'm glad to hear you and Claire are okay too. You just stick close to her and you'll both be out of here in no time."

_"You got it," _the girl replied before the line went dead.

Jake sighed deeply as he lowered the radio. He was happy to hear her voice and felt good knowing she seemed to maintain her youthful optimism even through these trying times, but at the same time he felt as if he were lying to her.

_"I shouldn't be getting her hopes up like that. I don't even know if I'll be around to see her again by this point," _he told himself.

"Is everything alright?" Yoko asked.

"Yeah…everything's fine," the hitman lied, "C'mon, we'd better get back to Alyssa and see if we can find Kevin."

"Sure thing," the woman said as she knelt down to scoop up both her knapsack and her Desert Eagle.

"Alyssa, are you still there?" Jake called out as they reentered the corridor.

"Hold on one second," the reporter replied and the shuffling of papers could be heard before she entered the hall with three files in hand.

"Holy shit, Yoko," Alyssa gasped and ran over to the duo, "Thank goodness you're alright. Have you heard anything from Kevin?"

"Afraid not," the Asian woman replied looking towards the files.

"Oh these?" the reporter said as she noticed Yoko staring at them, "I found these in that lab. Apparently they're results of some recent diagnostic testing they carried out with their 'Tyrants' I believe they call them."

"I found some pictures of their 'toys' and some discs that might be able to help us out," Jake said pulling out the bin bag, envelope and C.D.s, both of them waiting for Yoko to open her bulging knapsack and dumped them inside.

"I also found some schematics for a vaccine they appeared to be working on before this mess started," Yoko added as she zipped up her bag.

"You did?" Jake asked, "Do you have any idea where it could be? If it's here that is."

"I have no clue," Yoko said shaking her head, "but from what they were saying in the notes, it's almost as if it were here for sure. I would be my money on that if I were a gambling person."

Alyssa placed a hand to her head, "I don't believe it. You mean to tell me they've had a cure in the works for this 'cannibal disease' the entire time? Those bastards! This whole mess could have been prevented and we wouldn't be where we are now if they hadn't decided to be a bunch of greedy bastards!"

"You're right, but then again you could never be certain how long it's been out for," Yoko spoke up, "Maybe whoever created this cure only managed to synthesize it when it was too late."

"Then again, if this mess never happened, we wouldn't be here to expose their dirty little secrets to the public," Alyssa said with renewed vigor.

"Well we'd better save the small talk for later. Right now we need to get our asses in gear," Jake said motioning with his rifle towards the exit, "Find Kevin, find the others, find the cure, and find a way out of here."

"You're the one with the biggest gun right now so you'd better lead the way macho man," Alyssa mockingly called out, eliciting a small giggle from the often serious Yoko.

"Heh, just shift your asses and let's get a move on or else I'm leaving you behind as a present to those Hunters," Jake chuckled, only to receive a hard punch to the shoulder from Alyssa.

"That's not funny jackass!" she snapped.

The hitman said nothing in reply and only glared sharply at the blonde-haired woman, who returned a menacing scowl of her own.

_"At least she seems to be back to her old self," _Jake thought as they approached the automatic door.

The door slid open and right away the trio halted as they happened across another corpse with its head completely twisted off, which only served as the beginning of a trail leading to an open corridor, where more corpses carpeted the metallic floor.

"I wonder if the worst has already come and gone," Yoko remarked as she observed the large rotting mound of fertilizer, all of its inhabitants clad in either lab coats, dull gray industrial jumpers, light bluish-green surgical scrubs or the black uniforms of the regular security personnel.

"Definitely seems like somebody's already come through and done most of our dirty work for us," Alyssa added, noting most of the bodies had been torn apart by high velocity rounds she would have associated with heavy artillery.

Looking beyond the corpses, the trio found the entrances to the aforementioned archives, armory and the holding pens, as well as an unmanned security kiosk. With the area seemingly devoid of threats, the trio decided they would check out the archives first.

The archives was a largely well-maintained room that looked like a college library with numerous metallic shelves containing an endless amount of file folders and a few volumes of books related to a variety of scientific and medical subjects. Banks of computers sitting on plain contemporary white desks were present in the center of the room, most of them littered with miscellaneous documents that were hastily abandoned before the outbreak. It all looked so normal aside from one eyesore multiplied by one hundred, even more than that.

On the black carpeting below, the light blue walls around them, numerous manila folders that lay scattered about, even on a half-full coffee mug, were tiny red and white shields – miniaturized representations of the Umbrella Corporation's proud insignia, an emblem seen all over Raccoon City and much of the world.

"Damn, I wonder if they even have their logo on their toilet paper around here," Jake chuckled.

"Wouldn't be enough to wipe away all the shit around here," Alyssa quipped.

"Well we're going to have to worry about that later," Yoko replied as she sat down at one of the computers.

"Think you'll be able to get us into the system?" Jake asked as the woman's slender hands began flying across the keyboard.

"It shouldn't be too difficult hacking in, but I have a feeling it's going to take more time rounding up all this information," the younger woman replied.

"Well I have all the time in the world. Round up every little thing you can," Alyssa nodded in approval.

"_And I don't," _Jake thought to himself as he reclined against the wall near the entrance with his rifle in hand. _"I can't just leave them high and dry though. They'll need all the help they can get to get this information out to the world and unfortunately, I'm all the help they've got. Not much they can do with a Beretta and a Desert Eagle by themselves, especially when the one carrying the former is barely over five feet tall and could be blown away by the recoil alone."_

He tried not to think about his current situation, hoping it would provide some form of relief from the attacks he had been getting.

"_What else is there to think about?" _he asked as he looked over to see Alyssa sitting down at a station next to Yoko and beginning to do some work of her own. _"With everything going to shit around me it's hard to think about sunshine and puppies."_

"Damn, I knew Umbrella was huge, but goddamn," Alyssa whistled as her and the college student were bombarded by file after file popping up on her screen.

"Definitely going to be too much for one disc," Yoko replied as she slipped a blank disc into the modem.

Jake stared intently at the younger woman, noting the air of mystery surrounding her.

He remembered seeing her walk into the women's restroom at J's Bar five nights ago, looking like a stereotypical bookworm, but then noted her transformation as she came out with shorter hair and missing her glasses. To him it seemed as if she were trying to hide from somebody, perhaps in the midst of skipping town when the outbreak began. It was a routine he was familiar with, having previous targets going to extreme lengths to disguise their appearances, yet failing miserably.

Remembering the story she had given the group, she claimed to be a student at the local university, but didn't go into much further detail. It seemed as if nobody else really cared, but then again would have been too distracted to further pry into the numerous holes left in her story.

"_Guess it's easy to pay attention to the little things like that when you're in the same boat as her," _Jake told himself, lying to the others about his own identity. He wondered if Yoko Suzuki was even her real name.

His eyes remained glued on the young woman's hands as she worked her magic, bypassing all the firewalls, tracers and other protocols like they were nothing. _"Either she's a child prodigy or she's been doing this for years," _he thought, wondering if she had some kind of background in espionage.

"Well it's more than enough to bring these scumbags down for good," Alyssa said watching closely, "and when I say that, I sure as hell am not in it for the Pulitzer."

"A strong sense of justice is a valuable quality in such a situation," Yoko replied without looking away from the screen, "one that should transcend such material rewards."

"That does sound rather poetic," Jake spoke up resting his rifle against his shoulder, "then again I should have expected that coming from one of the more 'studious' types."

"What can I say? It's a hobby?" Yoko laughed, her mirth seeming so foreign from a person who seemed so mysterious, yet so straight-laced.

Even Alyssa laughed at the comment, "And the meathead actually makes an observation other than which woman has the bigger bra size…I'm shocked!" she called out in mock amazement.

"Hey, just remember this 'meathead' does all your shooting. You just let our friend stick to the hacking and you stick to your lock picking and whatever else you do," the hitman joked, for once distracted from the dark thoughts dominating his mind.

"_Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on him," _Alyssa thought to herself, _"He has proven himself to be a highly valuable asset during our little 'tour' down here and he saved us quite a few times on the streets. Not to forget he is kind of cute in the whole tall, dark and mysterious kind of way. If I had more time, I'd be wondering whether or not he had a girlfriend," _she thought, unable to hide her smile.

"There, that seems to be the last of it," Yoko said tapping the 'Enter' key. A clear silver disc popped out and she took the time to admire it.

"Just think every single bit of information regarding Umbrella's dealings in every major American city, as well as their activities in Paris, Vienna, London, Rome and wherever they've set up shop, both classified and known to the public," Alyssa remarked.

"And it's going to be something we'll have to guard with our very lives…unless Yoko can find another disc to copy it onto," Jake added.

"I'm afraid not," Yoko solemnly replied carefully placing it into a small waterproof container and slipping it into her pack, "That's all I have for discs. You'd think they would have them lying all over, especially here of all places."

"Well we're not out of options just yet," Alyssa said turning to face her computer and using the BurnBat browser to access the internet. "Forward me that info. I have a contact at the AGNN office in Atlanta I can send this to," she said logging into her e-mail account.

"Sure thing," Yoko said rounding up everything she had and forwarding it to the reporter's e-mail. "Are you sure this is someone we can trust?"

"Kip is one of the few guys I've worked with in the past who actually had more brains than he did balls. He knows what to do and who to get it to. This guy has been investigating Umbrella for quite some time himself and from what I've seen in the past, he's untouchable.

"A while back he had some hotshot lawyer trying to bribe him into not running an article about his plans to take down a union boss, but he didn't let that get to him, and in the process exposed bribes the man himself had been taking from some Republican legislator, as well as his extramarital affair with some right-wing radio host," Alyssa responded as she eagerly clicked on the 'Send' button.

"Alright, is that everything we came for?" Jake asked staring eagerly towards the door.

"Yeah, I also managed to print out some schematics of that 'Daylight' vaccine," Yoko said producing a small stack of papers, "I also managed to get a photograph printed out so we know what to look for," she said showing Jake and Alyssa a full color image of several vials filled with a glowing blue liquid.

For the hitman the sight brought some relief as he now knew what to look for.

"I'd really like to get the hell out of here while I can still remember what fresh air smells like," Jake spoke crinkling his nose at the overpowering stench of death as he reopened the door. _"If it's still able to bowl me over that bad, then I must have some time left."_

"I hear you on that one," Alyssa nodded, looking back as Yoko readjusted her knapsack to make sure nothing would spill out.

Jake readied his rifle and placed his other hand on the door, quietly motioning for the two ladies to stay back. Mentally counting down from three, he pulled the door open, only to have another body collapse into him.

"W…wait…" the figure weakly pleaded.

"Who-" Jake tried to ask, only to grunt as he struggled to support the man's weight.

"Kevin!" Yoko and Alyssa cried out in unison.

As he stood him upright, Jake finally managed to make out the shaggy reddish-brown hair obscuring the man's eyes and then he was able to make out the tattered and filthy bluish-gray R.P.D. uniform. As he looked over to the wall he noticed the bloody smear following the officer's gloved hand.

"Ryman?" Jake asked as he still fought to hold the man upright.

Indeed it was Officer Kevin Ryman of the Raccoon Police Department, the very man who had fought valiantly to lead him and the other survivors, only to vanish upon being attacked by the one-eyed bazooka-wielding monstrosity.

The two women shared a collective gasp as they noticed the deep rend that had destroyed his Kevlar vest, and the trail of blood spilling from the wound beneath.

"One of those…lizards got me…I think he only…nicked me…though…" the veteran cop slurred through trembling lips as he struggled to hold his customized Colt 45 in his other hand.

"Yoko, do you still have any of those supplies from the infirmary?" Alyssa called out as she withdrew her first aid spray and then rushed over to grab a swivel chair for their new arrival to collapse into.

With a word, Yoko set down her pack and began digging through, finding some fresh bandages and gauze, along with some disinfectants, hemostat pills and a fresh bottle of water.

"I killed…all those…bastards I could…" Kevin gasped, his tired bluish-green eyes dulled by the pain.

"Just shut up for a few seconds will you? We need to focus on getting you taken care of before we do anything else," Alyssa said placing a hand on his shoulder as she waited for Yoko to slip on a pair of latex gloves and grab some disinfectants.

"Before I shut up…I will say…I'm glad to see you guys again…I honestly thought I wouldn't…" Kevin grimaced as Yoko began applying the antiseptics.

Jake observed silently from the background paying particular attention to the officer's wounds. From what he could see, indeed Kevin's vest would be rendered useless after having the steel plating beneath sliced through, having had his previous vest damaged in similar fashion. It looked to have saved the cop from death, but was severe enough to cause blood loss and a copious amount of pain.

More importantly, he had to wonder if the officer had also been infected with the T-Virus.

"Do you think he's infected?" the hitman asked.

A dead silence fell over the room and Kevin stared at him as if he had just grown a second head. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Don't play dumb with me Johnny Law, you know what this is about," Jake retorted, "You said you were slashed by one of those Hunters. No doubt you're probably infected with the T-Virus by now."

Yoko and Alyssa both remained silent during the exchange, knowing the hired gun was right, yet at the same time fearing for Kevin's safety and worried about what Jake would do.

Acting on instinct Kevin raised his customized gun, ignoring the tremors of pain shooting throughout his torso.

"Don't even think about it wise guy!" the wounded man choked out.

"Kevin no," Alyssa called out stepping in front of the cop and shooting her other hand backward to keep Jake at bay, "Both of you calm down at once! Nobody is shooting one another if I have anything to say about it."

"Don't think I'm just going to let him shoot me dead without a fight," the cop protested.

"Who said I was going to shoot you?" Jake retorted raising his hands defensively, "You might be infected, but there is hope!"

Kevin remained silent to the man's claim and for the next few tense seconds only his heavy breathing could be heard.

"He's telling the truth," Yoko spoke hoping to calm the situation, "There might be a vaccine!"

The officer turned to face the young woman, "Please don't be shitting me lady! I've already seen enough people die because of this bullshit virus and I don't wanna be one of them!"

"Well we've gotta get you patched up then so we can get our asses in gear. Time is flying by and we're only getting sicker," Jake huffed.

"What do you mean?" Yoko asked looking at him worriedly while Alyssa crossed her arms offering a sharp stare.

"I know by the look in your eyes you can tell something is up," Jake said to the reporter, "I remember how you looked at me before we split up, well no use in hiding it any longer."

Taking a deep breath, the hitman raised his mangled right pant leg and showed off his bandaged leg, grimacing as he noticed the sickly black streaks creeping out from beneath the stained cloth.

"I'm infected."

A small gasp escaped from Yoko, while Alyssa remained silent and Kevin chuckled bitterly.

"Welcome to the fuckin' party," the cop grunted.

"And just how long have you been hiding this? More importantly, why didn't you say something right away?" Alyssa demanded before letting her arms hang limply and shaking her head, "To think I've been walking around with a fucking train wreck waiting to happen this entire time!"

"Because I couldn't be certain if you have tried putting a bullet in my brain or not," Jake snapped, shaking his head and rubbing his left temple, "There's no way in hell I'm going to let you do that either. You don't need that on your conscience."

"Then just what do you plan on doing about it?" the reporter asked.

Jake patted the pocket where the lone bullet was held before taking it out for everybody to see.

"I'm not ready to do it just yet. I intend to try making something of the time I have left instead of just ending everything without even trying. If we don't find this antidote, then it was nice knowing all of you, but I for one wish to fight the inevitable," the hitman declared as he placed the cartridge back into his pocket.

"I have to wonder if there's a possibility either one of us could be infected," Yoko glumly spoke to Alyssa, "All this time maybe it could have been in the air or the water, and we've been through both."

The investigative reporter stared down upon the Asian woman, her face an unmoving scowl but her eyes telling a different story. Knowing the blonde-haired woman's stubborn tenacity she wouldn't admit it, the observation scared her.

"Whatever the case is, hopefully there are enough samples for all of us," Jake replied.

"Yeah, but right now we'd better focus on treating him," Yoko said cocking her head towards the wounded officer.

Nodding in reply, Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of recovery meds. "Here, take some of these too. I don't know if they have any effect in slowing the virus itself, but they do help with the itching for a bit," he said dropping them into the officer's hand.

"Th-thanks…" Kevin grunted as Yoko applied some first aid spray to his open wound.

"No problem," Jake said making his way over to Alyssa, who now stood in the background looking away from the others.

"Hey," he said casually reclining against the wall.

The reporter said nothing, offering a terse wave. She kept her head turned away in a mulish attempt to avoid eye contact with the hitman.

Jake only rolled his eyes at the woman's obduracy, "You can drop the 'ice woman' act. I know what this is all about. It's about what Yoko just said and I can tell you're scared."

Alyssa turned to face him, offering nothing but a low growl of irritation as she looked deep into his eyes.

The hired gun was unafraid of the woman's assertive nature and continued forth, "I won't lie to you; the thought of becoming a zombie scares the hell out of me just as much as it does you, it should scare the hell out of anybody in their right mind. The clock is ticking for me especially.

"I know the odds are stacked against me a million to one, but I'm not going to sit in the corner and cry about it. It's saying a lot, but there may be some hope and I intend to find out if this possible vaccine is out there. I'm not going down without trying. If you want to make it out of here alive then I'd suggest you try yourself."

Alyssa took a deep breath before speaking, "It's not that I don't want to try, but I wonder could this virus have been in my system this entire time and if so, could I turn at any second? I mean, I haven't felt any of the symptoms that I've seen other infected people go through, but still, could it be a possibility?"

"Well I got infected about three hours ago, but aside from the burning and fatigue, I haven't had the urge to tear out anybody's throat just yet. Maybe this virus affects people in more different ways than people think; it could depend on physiology or something else. I'm not a scientist so I can't tell you for sure," Jake replied looking back to Yoko and Kevin.

"Do you think it's even here?" Alyssa asked, echoing a similar sentiment he held from earlier on.

"I honestly don't know, but I'm determined to find out. The faster we cooperate, the faster we can find out and get out of this mess. All I'm telling you is to try. I know you don't like taking orders, but just take that one simple order for once in your life and I promise I'll never order you around again," Jake said leaning towards her.

Alyssa let out a heavy sigh before reaching to clasp his hand, "Alright, I promise," she said with an assuring smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: BurnBat is meant to be a fictional counterpart to Firefox and AGNN is meant to be a fictional representation of CNN.

For those of you who followed the original, you can see that this is another chapter where I've implemented some major changes, the most visible being that Yoko Suzuki is still alive!

At the time I had written the original, I wasn't exposed much to "File 2" and therefore didn't hear about Yoko's ending where she survives long enough to testify before the U.S. government.

Also like this chapter, I took one from the original and split it into two separate ones, or will be with the next chapter, just because I came up with some new ideas spur of the moment.

Well I think that's everything I have to say for the time being so until next time, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	42. Ch 41: A Martyr Too Soon

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 41: A Martyr Too Soon

It had taken some time, but Yoko managed to get Kevin patched up with everything at her disposal.

Determined not to let 'some scratch' hold him back from doing his job, the R.P.D. officer refused to remain in the archive room any longer than he needed to. After the last bandage had been fastened, he was pushing himself to his feet, and with the assistance of Jake, making his way towards the armory, where the group was currently stationed.

As expected, most of the armory's stock had been looted, but there was enough to hold them over for awhile.

Jake was already the most well-armed member of the group and didn't need any new weapons, but had found some extra clips for both his M4A1 and remaining Beretta, as well as some fresh speed loaders for his magnum along with explosive and napalm rounds for the attached grenade launcher.

Kevin was down to three bullets in his Colt .45 when he stumbled across the others and with no bullets to match his antiquated custom handgun; he was forced to grab a remaining Beretta 93R, which would help thanks to its automatic fire capabilities, and some additional clips. Despite his injury, the officer was adamant about taking one of the remaining SPAS-12 assault shotguns, finding plenty of shotgun shells in addition to those Alyssa had already scrounged up.

Alyssa managed to find some extra clips for the Beretta Jake had given her, as well as a Penn Arms L1 37mm grenade launcher and acquiring some rounds filled with sulfuric acid and liquid nitrogen. Knowing of the horrific reload time her single shot weapon possessed, she also grabbed an H&K MP5 submachine gun and some corresponding clips, strapping on both a side pack and utility belt to help her manage the excess ammo.

Yoko was up last and had found some extra clips for the Desert Eagle a dying colleague had given her, in addition to Beretta 92F of her own equipped with some of the enhanced handgun rounds Jill Valentine had used. Being the least trained member of the group, they had decided against giving her any rifles or shotguns that had been left behind.

"We're definitely gonna have to keep this place in mind," Kevin remarked staring at a nearby M-134 Vulcan minigun in lustful intent as he relaxed at the quartermaster's desk.

The quartet also happened across some abandoned rations and was now taking a meal break, knowing it could be their last one for awhile.

"Man, if we make it out of here alive I'm gonna get so fucking drunk until I can't remember any of this crap," Alyssa shuddered next to Kevin.

"I could use a cold one myself, but we're gonna have to worry about that later," Kevin replied.

Alyssa looked at the officer in shock, "Now that's news to me, Kevin Ryman turning down a beer! From what I remember back at J's Bar you were really wolfing those beers down faster than a frat boy at an all night keg party."

"Heh, I never thought I'd live to see the day either and that's coming from the mouth of a full-blooded Irishman!" the officer chuckled, "People always told me I was going to be a bad influence on my buddy Leon. I still remember his little sister saying he was going to have cirrhosis by the time he was 25 if he stuck around me for too long," he finished, his expression turning serious before looking back to Jake.

"I still can't believe he's caught up in this mess," the veteran officer spoke, remembering what the hitman had told him about the survivors he arrived with, even more worried with the knowledge of a child being present.

"You can't beat yourself up over that Kevin," Yoko spoke up for the first time since their meal began, "You couldn't have foreseen he would be arriving at a time like this."

"I still wonder how he could have made it here with all the roadblocks set up," Alyssa said, "unless they had to shift their resources elsewhere. There had to be some kind of gap to explain how he got in here."

"Nobody could have foreseen this was going to happen," Jake added, "I doubt even the bastards working here could've deliberately planned all this out."

"Yeah," the officer replied solemnly pulling out his badge and displaying it for all to see, "Fuck, I doubt this has gotten me very far with everything that's gone down."

Normally he would have been proud to display his blue and gold badge to anyone, viewing it as a symbol that he had done something good with his life. He was an officer of the law, dedicated to serving and protecting the innocent. The badge was a sign of respect and authority, as well as inspiration and pride to those around him.

To be an officer was more than just writing out tickets and arresting bad guys, to be an officer was to serve the greater good and leading by example.

Kevin had never let his position go to his head. Over the years he matured from a brash, cocky rookie to a loyal, dedicated officer who always stopped to engage in small talk with familiar faces around the downtown area and to engage in deep discussions with the local children, hoping to keep them out of trouble by warning them of the dangers of drugs and street gangs and encouraging them to stay in school and listen to their parents.

Now the badge seemed more like a useless husk of metal, an arrogant display of power which he thought could enable him to save everybody and keep this city in fine working order, a worthless trinket serving as a testament to his failure as an officer of the law. It was only the presence of the other living human beings that kept him from taking the badge and throwing it into the nearest trashcan.

Kevin was brought out of his reverie when Alyssa placed her hand over his, pushing the badge back towards him.

"Keep it," she spoke in an empathetic tone, "it still means something. As long as you are still around to serve and protect it will mean something in this nightmare. You've made it this far and that should account for something, plus you've got me here to bitch you out when you act too happy-go-lucky for your own good," she added with a wink before motioning to Jake and Yoko, "Plus you've got others still around to count on you."

"You're right," he said sliding the badge back into his pocket, "If I can't save a city, then I'll be damned if I can't save a handful of people."

The cop then turned his attention to Jake and Yoko, "You'd just better survive for me so it can amount for something."

"You're right, better a few than no one at all. Glad to see there's a pig out there who still gives a shit about doing his job," Jake chuckled slightly.

"Whatever asshole," Kevin shot back with a slight laugh, "To think I could've been part of where all this bullshit started."

"What do you mean?" Yoko asked.

"I've tried out for S.T.A.R.S. before, failed twice," Kevin sighed the last part while shaking his head; "It was their investigation at the Spencer Estate that started all those rumors."

"Twice, what happened?" Alyssa inquired.

"Well…the first time they thought I was too immature to join because apparently some people frown upon 'dyed-in-the-wool' optimism…something I'd expect from that grim bloated swine Irons, and my second time I failed target practice," the officer explained, removing his gloves and running his fingers through his sweaty hair.

"You failed target practice?" the reporter asked, again with a look of shock, "Are you serious? I've seen you hit all those 'one shot, one kill' potshots on those lizard freaks and those giant fleas!"

"They raised a stink because I shot all of the criminal targets carrying melee weapons in the head rather than trying to subdue them with limb shots," Kevin sighed resting his face in his hand, "Of course now that the R.P.D. is out of commission it looks like I won't be getting a third try."

"Well judging by what I heard it's probably a good thing you didn't make it," Alyssa nodded.

Jake looked over to Yoko, who was again padding through her backpack to make sure everything was where she left it.

"Everything there?" he asked craning his neck over to see it was nearly filled to the max.

"I'm going to need a bigger backpack," she replied, "I'm running out of space and can only wonder how much more there's left to find, not to mention this weighs like a ton."

"Remember you're lugging it around for a good cause," Jake chuckled, "I'm sure there are more bags around here for us to carry all that around in."

"Amen to that. If I wasn't so sore right now I'd be lugging quite a bit myself to put those bastards out of business," Kevin spoke up, "These bastards have taken everything away from me and countless others. You can bet I'd be damned happy to storm their main headquarters with a fucking machinegun!"

"Strong talk for a law-abiding police officer, but I doubt you'll be getting too many objections right now," Jake nodded.

"Normally I'm a pacifist, but I honestly don't know if there are any more peaceful alternatives to dealing with those jackals and all the dirty tricks up their sleeves," Yoko added as her eyes were drawn to the Chinese lettering on the dark-haired man's forearms.

"Love and life, hatred and death," she said aloud, catching the tall man by surprise.

Jake looked into the woman's dark eyes and she winced, not knowing whether she had offended him. He remained silent for a few moments before looking away. "I see you understand," he replied.

"Yes…I spent some years in China as a child," she muttered.

"Nice, I've always wanted to visit that place," the hitman replied, not sure of what else to say, but sure he could tell what her next question would be.

Yoko nibbled on her lower lip thinking of how she would word her next question.

"So is there a story behind those tattoos?" she asked, her brain shifting into neutral and the words blurting out. Catching herself too late, her cheeks turned a bright shade of red and she looked away, "Terribly sorry."

Jake didn't reply to the woman's forced apology and just looked down to the floor with his hands clasped together. Even Kevin and Alyssa were unnerved by the dramatic pause and stared quietly at the black-clad man.

The hired gun felt his muscles tighten and he squeezed his eyes shut, hating that he was the center of attention.

"It's fine," he forced himself to say, "Let's just say I've led a very fucked up life. I've done some fucked up things and in turn I've had fucked up things done to me. With the way things have gone, I feel as if I'm forever torn between the contrasting forces.

"On one side, there have been those I've loved and on the other there are those I've hated. They've lived and they've gone, some peacefully, some violently, both of them on completely different spectrums."

His tone was cool and lacking emotion, causing Yoko's skin to crawl and she looked over to Kevin and Alyssa, both of them not knowing what to say.

"What's up with that?" she heard the dark-haired man ask and she looked down to find her multicolored charm sticking out of her knapsack.

"Oh…my grandmother gave me this," Yoko said pulling out the talisman for all to see, "It's supposed to protect those who hold it."

"Is that so?" Alyssa asked crossing her arms in her typical skepticism.

"My great-great-grandmother passed this down and much like her my grandma went on to live a full, healthy life," Yoko replied.

"I still don't buy how some cloth is supposed to take precedence over modern medicine, to each their own," Alyssa said with a roll of her eyes.

"She lived to be 104," Yoko retorted, "I don't know about you, but I have to wonder if this charm is what's been keeping me alive throughout this ordeal," replied as she clipped it to her jacket.

"I have to wonder," Kevin spoke eying the talisman, "You really have pulled through. I don't know if it's that charm or if it's just you, but I'm surprised."

"Well I think now would be a good time to conclude this lunch break and get our asses back in gear," Jake said standing up and gathering his weapons, "You think you'll be good to go?" he asked looking over to Kevin.

"Heh, I'm a little sore but I think I'll manage," the cop said wrapping his arm around Alyssa's shoulders and allowing her to help him back to his feet while he used his shotgun as a crutch. "We just need to find that antidote so I _can_ manage."

"Same here," the hitman replied waiting for Alyssa and Yoko to gather their supplies.

When they had gathered everything, the quartet made its way back into the body-infested corridor, Alyssa supporting Kevin, approaching the unmanned kiosk. Yoko took a seat at the computer and hacked into the security system, shifting through numerous video feeds as she sought out clues on the whereabouts of the elusive vaccine or anything else that could be of use.

"Anything standing out in particular?" Jake asked looking over her shoulder at the myriad of black and white images, most of them displaying the gore he was long accustomed to, the lack of color censoring much of the true carnage.

"I'm trying, but there is much ground to be covered," Yoko replied, stopping herself as she was about to click on another image, "Wait a sec!"

"What is it?" the assassin said kneeling down to get a closer look as Yoko enhanced the image and Alyssa moved behind the desk.

"Did you find something that's actually worthwhile?" Alyssa demanded, "We already knew these freaks don't have any fucking table manners," she said nearly gagging at the site of a researcher tearing into the back of a deceased guard.

"No, it's not that. Look!" Yoko said as she zoomed further towards a steel briefcase lying inches away from the guard's outstretched hand. "It's got an electronic lock on it. Maybe it was transporting something important…like a chemical sample."

"What makes you think that?" Alyssa spoke, making room for Kevin to step in and see things for himself.

Yoko suddenly paused and stared at the briefcase in a deep trance.

"I honestly don't know, but it just seems so…familiar to me…like I've seen one of them before," she replied.

"Alright, we might know what we're here for. Can you tell us where it's at?" Jake asked, feeling goose bumps at the anticipation. _"Am I going to be cured after all? Could there really be some kind of 'angel' looking out for me as Sherry puts it? C'mon Jake, don't get your hopes too far up. You're not out of the woods just yet. She's not even sure if it could be the vaccine or not."_

Yoko accessed a map, "It looks like it's just past the holding pens with no other choice but to go through."

"This just keeps getting better and better," Alyssa groaned.

"Well we really need to find out what's in that case," Kevin said forcing himself upright.

"I second that notion," Jake added, "I really want to make it out of this place alive and I'm up for blasting more of those freaks to Hell if it means I won't become one of them."

"Then it's settled, we move!" Kevin said with an authoritative bark rivaling that of a drill sergeant.

"Sure thing boss," Alyssa sarcastically chuckled following after the officer ready to brace him if he stumbled.

Jake took the lead as they approached the door leading to the holding pens and withdrew his keycard, swiping it through the reader and stepping through with his rifle drawn.

"Anything we should be worried about?" Kevin called out.

"So far, it looks like any possible threats have already been dealt with," Jake called out and waited for the others to join him.

On the tiled floor before them lay another corpse. It was the body of a man, decked out in black combat fatigues. Whatever his role here had been, he had literally lost his head.

"Oh my…" Yoko gasped, placing a hand over her mouth.

"One of those 'cleaners' you were telling us about earlier?" Kevin asked nudging the corpse.

"I don't think so," Jake replied kneeling down to inspect the man's accessories, "The guy I encountered didn't have one of these," he said raising a handheld stun rod for all to see, "Those guys were here to kill."

"He must have been a keeper then," Yoko surmised, "Unless he had a different purpose and his other weapons were already taken."

"You think the freak that did this could be nearby?" Alyssa asked keeping a tight grip on her MP5.

"More than likely," Jake said rising back to his feet and approaching a nearby corner upon seeing a blood trail creeping out, "Whatever did this sure took its sweet time."

More corpses were sprawled out, dressed exactly like the one they had just found, displaying similar injuries. Missing limbs and deep gashes had been the cause of death for these fellows like much of the other unlucky souls present.

"I think I have an idea as to who our culprit is, but it's not a very uplifting idea," the hitman replied as he knelt down to examine an emptied MP5 fitted with a silencer, "and neither is what these fellows could have been here for."

Most of the operatives were carrying silenced submachine guns and a few were even carrying rifles similar to his, as well as shotguns and grenade launchers. _"Not exactly subtle for being 'top secret cleaners'," _Jake thought to himself as he patted down a body for extra ammo, managing to find one spare clip. "My guess is these are more of the 'cleaners' I mentioned to you earlier."

"And I think I might have an idea of what they were trying to accomplish before whatever it was dropped in on them," Alyssa called out from the end of the hall at the holding pen entrance. In her hands she held the splintered remnants of a PDA device that was still plugged into some random wires hanging out of an opened panel to the electronic door's right.

Unlike the other doors which required a keycard, this one required a fingerprint analysis in order to gain entry.

"None of these guys must've had the clearance to get in if they were going through all that trouble," Kevin said inspecting a broken shotgun for spare shells.

Jake looked over to Yoko, who remained deathly silent. The look on her face told him she must have known more than she was letting on and he had to wonder if she had something to do with the corporation.

"_I know I'm going to be keeping my eye on you lady. She looks too small to be of any serious threat, but then again you never judge a book by its cover," _he told himself as he withdrew his sword from its scabbard, "Hold on, I think I might know somebody who can help," Jake spoke to the others and made his way back to the beheaded keeper.

"And just what do you have planned?" Alyssa asked.

The hired gun didn't answer and grabbed the dead man's hand, bringing his sword down and slicing through his wrist.

"Jesus Christ! Was that really necessary?" the reporter shouted in disgust.

Jake ignored the woman's outburst and made his way over to the panel, placing the severed hand upon the print reader. A green laser beam scanned the palm print underneath and an electronic ding followed.

"_Welcome Geoffrey Kendrick," _a robotic female voice spoke as the door slid open.

"Well it worked, didn't it?" Jake winked casually tossing the severed limb aside.

Again Alyssa shuddered in disgust, "Sometimes I really don't know about you Smith," she replied before stepping through with her MP5 raised. Kevin supported himself against Yoko and they made their way through together before the hitman looked behind them for any threats before stepping inside.

"Looks like we've found where those freaks are coming from," Kevin called out as they found themselves in a room lined with row upon row of stasis tubes, some of which had been smashed open, others still containing various breeds of Hunter B.O.W.'s floating dormant in their chemical baths. A collective tension fell over the four survivors as they wondered if any of those monstrosities would spring to life at any second.

"One of who knows how many," Jake replied as he carefully treaded through a puddle, "I came across one filled with these oversized monkeys I fought earlier. I'd hate to be in one with those red-skinned freaks."

"Damn it don't jinx us," Alyssa snapped, "With the way things are going around here, you say something it's likely to happen."

"These freaks are everywhere. It's not like it won't happen again anytime soon," Kevin replied as he stepped over the corpse of another commando who had bled out after both his legs were severed beneath their kneecaps.

"There are so many of them, like they were being mass produced, but why?" Yoko asked aloud as she stared at a purple-skinned beast, which Jake had recognized as one of those 'Sweepers.'

"Must be getting ready for the next big war," Kevin replied, "Umbrella could've at least made these freaks halfway intelligent to the point they wouldn't attack everything in sight."

"How the hell can you be certain they still wouldn't attack you?" Alyssa inquired as she happened across another carpet of black-clad corpses surrounded by hundreds of spent ammo casings and destroyed weaponry.

"They might've been trying to figure that out before everything went to shit," Jake replied before one particular corpse caught his attention and Kevin walked up beside him to examine it.

Slumped against the wall was a commando with a ragged hole punched through his chest, impaled by an unseen object or attacker.

"Hmm, it's ragged yet at the same time looks too clean to have been carried out by one of those Hunters," the officer observed, "and those Lickers' tongues don't leave something this circular."

"Think we're dealing with something brand new?" Jake asked as he looked towards another body that had been punched through its spinal cord and at the same time, looked as if it had been trampled by more than one pair of sharp pointed feet.

"Given that this is Umbrella we're talking about here we've probably barely touched the tip of the iceberg in regards to what they could be capable of producing," Alyssa said walking up behind the two men.

"Right," was all Yoko said offering her two cents on the situation. Once again she succeeded in arousing the hitman's suspicions and he regarded her with a wary eye, but as she turned to face him he quickly returned his gaze to the impaled corpses.

A low noise suddenly caught the group's attention, which almost sounded like the scuttling of numerous feet.

"Perhaps you've found your perp," Jake said to Kevin, who released himself from Yoko's grasp and pumped his shotgun.

"Kevin wait," the younger woman pleaded, but the officer ignored her and reached into his pocket for one of the recovery meds Jake had given him earlier.

"I'd better go after him before he gets himself killed," the hired gun whispered to Alyssa and ran up alongside the wounded cop. Both women would follow close behind.

Eventually Kevin would approach another door that slid open automatically and it was there he would suddenly leap backwards, a blast from his shotgun sailing over its intended target.

"What the fuck?" Alyssa blurted out and Yoko fumbled for her Desert Eagle.

A scorpion, ten times the size of a regular one, had come charging towards the opened door and shot its tail outward, missing Kevin by mere inches.

Jake raised his rifle and fired a barrage at the mutant, most of his rounds tearing away at its heavily armored exoskeleton, but doing no serious damage. He was ready to fire a blast from his mounted grenade launcher when a loud boom came from beneath him and the scorpion's face was obliterated.

Looking down, he found Kevin had managed to raise his shotgun and fire a blast, but was smarting from the recoil.

"Gah…damn it!" he grunted as he tried pushing himself into a sitting position, but was wracked with pain and unable to. It took the combined effort of Alyssa and Yoko to help him up, but by then another oversized scorpion was approaching.

"I got this shithead," Jake called out and fired an explosive shell towards the mutant arthropod, his blast managing to destroy one of its pincers along with the legs behind it and flipping it onto its side. He eventually ran to a position where he was certain he would be able to avoid its stinger and fired a burst into its face.

The hitman had now found himself in another wide open room that had housed several large cages with their bars bent out of place and a few more human corpses present. At the opposite side of the room was another door, but scampering from all around diverted his attention.

More giant scorpions were approaching from all around him.

"Oh shit, we're gonna have to fucking move people!" Jake shouted to the others as he raised his grenade launcher and fired another burst shell towards the nearest undesirable, sending it flying into the air with much of its carapace ablaze.

A loud 'bloop' came from behind and it was followed by a hiss as a shell filled with sulfuric acid connected with one of the scorpions, burning through its armor.

"Well you heard the man," Alyssa called out to the others from behind as she slipped another round into her grenade launcher and fired upon another scorpion, inflicting severe damage to its tail.

Another scorpion appeared from behind one of the cages and raised its pincers ready to strike, but a loud bang resounded and most of its face was destroyed.

Yoko Suzuki stood behind him struggling to keep the powerful magnum in her hands, nearly knocked from her feet by its powerful recoil.

Kevin soon entered the room and was firing upon a giant arthropod positioned atop one of the warped cages, which was already threatening to buckle underneath its weight. Shrugging off the pain in his chest, the cop pumped his shotgun and fired a burst managed to break the barb off of its tail before firing again into its side, causing it to stumble and finally fall through a set of weakened bars and land hard on its side.

All hell was breaking loose as the scorpions charged the four survivors from all sides. Kevin stood back to back against Jake as they fought the mutant arthropods, the chatter of their combined gunfire near deafening in such close quarters as they attempted to clear a safe passage to the opposite side of the room, the hired gun firing a stream of piercing lead followed by explosive shells, while the cop's shotgun boomed indiscriminately. Massive shreds tore from their adversaries' hides as they fell to the ground in crippled heaps.

Yoko had taken cover near Alyssa as the taller woman utilized her more powerful grenade launcher against the scorpions, while the college student managed to squeeze off a few shots, most of them nicking her armored enemies, but not killing them. Eventually the reporter's grenade launcher ran out of ammo and she didn't have enough time to load some fresh shells.

"Somebody fucking cover me!" she cried out.

"I'm right behind you! Stay low!" Jake shouted as he took a position behind the two women and fired into the face of another scorpion.

"Shit, I'm dry! We've gotta fucking move!" Kevin screamed as his shotgun clicked empty and he slung it over his shoulder, withdrawing his Beretta 93R.

A thunderous report echoed throughout the holding pen and the four survivors looked to see a large shudder dent beneath the force of a powerful blow. Another blow sounded and the indentation expanded further, followed by another that finally created a small tear in the surface.

"C'mon," Jake shouted to the others before stopping to fire a burst into the face of another scorpion, just as his clip ran dry.

The screech of metal grated everyone's nerves as a large barb finally tore a hole through the shutter.

"Fucking run," Kevin called out as he fired repeated three shot bursts into one of the smaller scorpions.

The gigantic tail once again struck the shutter and the tear expanded before a large pincer tore a path down before forcing its way through. The quartet only shared a collective gasp.

Another scorpion appeared, this one ten times larger than its already oversized kin, standing roughly nine feet tall and nine feet long.

"Son of a bitch," Jake muttered as he looked over for anything of use and caught sight of another commando lying on the tiled floor, his vest lined with grenades.

"Cover me!" he shouted to the others as he bolted over to the dead man and began undoing the straps to free the explosives.

Kevin and Alyssa fired away at the giant scorpion, assuming it was the 'mother' of the cluster they had just encountered and likely wasn't too thrilled about them tearing through her 'children.'

Both of them moved at a manic pace, Kevin ignoring the stings of pain as he threw himself against whatever cover he could find, peeking out to fire repeatedly blast from his hastily reloaded shotgun, while Alyssa had managed to load some liquid nitrogen shells into her grenade launcher, which had shown some effect on the mammoth arthropod.

In spite of their offensive, the massive scorpion instead focused on Yoko, who was hugging the wall behind her and had been slowly inching her way towards the exit when the mutant first made its presence known. Raising its pincers and tail simultaneously the mutant made its charge.

"Yoko watch out!" Kevin shouted as he began pelting the giant with blasts from his shotgun.

Seeing the barbed appendage come flying towards her, the young woman ducked underneath it, the stinger leaving a deep indentation in the wall as she scampered away on her hands and knees.

With a couple more tugs the line of grenades was freed, "Alright, I got them!"

Kevin and Alyssa both looked to the belt of live explosives and watched as Jake pulled the pin on one of them and chucked the whole line towards the mega sized scorpion.

"Better fucking run!" Kevin hollered as the trio dodged any remaining baby scorpions and charged towards the exit, Jake stopping to push the button that would seal the door shut behind them. A deafening explosion rang out and they felt the ground vibrating beneath their feet, followed by what appeared to be the splatter of body parts connecting with all surrounding surfaces.

The trio didn't have the time to stop and take a breather as they remembered someone they had lost track of.

"Yoko!" Alyssa blurted out, but was cut off by a huge glob of saliva landing on her shoulder.

Jake shone his light upward and the trio was startled to find themselves coming face to face with another Licker, this one halfway transformed from its 'Crimson Head' phase similar to the one he had encountered in the Apple Inn, wearing the tattered remnants of a white hazmat suit, trusses of brown hair hanging from its scalp.

"Kevin, don't worry about us. Just help Yoko!" Jake shouted as he squeezed the rifle's trigger.

With a nod, the police officer bolted down the passageway and found himself on a catwalk over a bottomless gorge encountering three regular zombies, who were also clad in the remnants of hazmat suits.

Ducking an attempted swipe from the first zombie, he brought his elbow up and knocked it over the railing. Once that was taken care of, he brought his foot up to deliver a swift kick to send the second walking cadaver stumbling backwards before raising his Beretta and dropping both of them with rapid fire bursts to their faces.

"Help me!" he heard a familiar voice call out and Kevin bolted down the catwalk and through a halfway point before finding himself on another catwalk.

At the center Yoko Suzuki struggled with another crimson-skinned zombie, losing the battle as she struggled to keep its clawed hands from slashing into her. Both her knapsack and her Desert Eagle lay on the metal surface beneath.

"Help me!" she again screamed as she found herself pinned against the catwalk, the zombie's breath washing over her and its bloody phlegm forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut.

"Yoko, don't worry I'll do what I can!" the cop shouted.

Kevin took careful aim, but the frantic movements prevented him from getting a clear shot at the zombie's head.

"Damn it!" he hissed to himself, _"I can't get the shot without hitting Yoko," _he thought. Forcibly lowering his aim, he fired a shot into the crimson terror's left kneecap, causing its leg to buckle, but not relinquishing its grip from the frightened woman.

Just as he did, the talisman Yoko had clipped to her jacket suddenly came flying off.

"Kevin!" she called out just as the crimson zombie lowered its head and buried its teeth into her left triceps, forcing her to let out a horrible scream.

"No!" the R.P.D. officer screamed as he fired another round into the monster's side and went for another shot, but the crimson beast managed to wrestle Yoko into his path.

"Kevin…" Yoko choked out as she continued struggling with the beast.

Without warning, the young woman pulled herself and the monster towards the railing and with a final heave, both of them fell over.

"Yoko!" Kevin screamed as he rushed towards the railing and shot his hand out, but by then both of them had fallen out of his reach and disappeared into the darkness below.

There was no time to grieve as a ragged hiss came from above and the officer whirled around to find another red-skinned monstrosity in the process of turning right before his very eyes.

Letting out another low ragged gasp, the Crimson Head's already jagged teeth sharpened into pointed fangs and a sick squishy noise followed as its eyes rolled into the back of its head and its brains suddenly began to grow out from its head. There was a final tear of flesh and bone as the monster's claws sharpened into foot-long knives that looked nothing like its former fingers. The tattered remnants of what had once been a commando's uniform ripped away as muscles expanded and talons sprouted from its feet.

Realizing he was standing near the very Desert Eagle Yoko had dropped, Kevin knelt down to scoop it up and then with a battle cry of pure fury, fired round after round into the newly-transformed beast until he had blown its head into a million tiny pieces and torn through several critical veins, assuring his victory.

"Yoko…I'm so sorry…" Kevin whispered as he stared over the railing into the endless sea of black, his pulse slowing down as he collapsed against the balustrade, barely registering the footsteps pounding towards him.

"Kevin!" he heard Alyssa's voice call out, yet he didn't respond.

Jake and Alyssa entered the catwalk to find the veteran officer slumped against the railing with his arms hanging limply and Yoko's magnum handgun clutched in his right hand, nearly on his knees as his legs buckled beneath him. Lying in the center were the college student's backpack and the very charm she had shown them earlier.

"Kevin?" the journalist repeated, feeling tempted to inquire about Yoko's whereabouts, but the man's faraway expression gave her an idea of what occurred.

"No…" she whispered looking over to Jake, who remained silent looking towards the young woman's belongings and then over to Kevin, who was struggling back to his feet.

"She's gone," was all he offered, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

Taking a deep breath Alyssa walked over and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, "You did everything you could."

"But it wasn't enough," the cop replied, his response brief and to the point.

"Kevin-" Alyssa tried to speak, but was cut off.

"I said it wasn't enough!" Kevin snapped turning to look her directly in the eye. His lower lip quivered, his face reddened, fire burned within his bluish-green eyes and even the stretching of leather could be heard as he clenched his gloved fists. "I fucking failed my job yet again."

"Kevin, please don't think like that. I'm sure there wasn't anything you could do about it," Alyssa pleaded gripping both of his shoulders.

"Yes there was!" he roared slapping her hands away, "I could have been faster! I could have fucking moved my slow ass and gotten in a better shot on that son of a bitching zombie!"

The officer's voice was beginning to crack with emotion and his back on the reporter, "I could've saved her. She didn't have to die like that…she would still be here if I'd been faster."

"Kevin, please…" Alyssa repeated and looked back to Jake unsure of what to say next. For once the feisty journalist was at a loss for words and could only stand rooted to her spot breathing deeply as she searched her mind for the right words, wondering if there were any right words to describe what just happened.

"Kevin, I honestly don't know if this is the right thing to tell you, but with what's going on right now, you can't save everybody," she paused after uttering the last part, but then composed herself before continuing.

"I know you would if you could. It's what makes you a good cop and it's what drives you, but a lot of people have died already and you can't beat yourself up over every loss or it will destroy you.

"Remember what you said earlier, if you can't save a city, you can still save a few people and here we are," Alyssa finished motioning to herself and the hitman, "Don't forget your own words."

Kevin remained with his back towards the others, not wanting them to see the look of shame upon his features.

"Focusing on living is all you can do," Jake spoke up from behind the duo, "I'm sure that's what Yoko would have wanted. She would want us to find that cure and then get out of here and expose Umbrella to the world."

Kevin stared at the hitman quietly before taking a deep breath and nodding his head, "Right."

"Judging by what Yoko told us I don't think we should be too far from where she found that case," Alyssa spoke up.

"Yeah, but wait we need to get some things first," Kevin said as he walked over and picked up both Yoko's backpack and charm before tucking her empty gun into his belt.

"Right, definitely can't forget that," Alyssa said as she accepted the backpack and rested her weapons against the railing so she could slide her arms through the straps.

"Alright, let's go," Kevin said leading the way, forcing himself through the motions.

Jake and Alyssa stared at each other, both of them sharing unease over the officer's mental state following his failure to protect another citizen from doom.

The trio walked through another airlock door and found a few more crimson-skinned zombies torn apart by heavy automatic fire, along with more of the commandos who had died trying to hold them off.

"Damn, looks like they sent the entire cavalry down here," Jake replied as he carefully inspected all of the corpses for any signs of the case Yoko spotted.

"Damn it, if these soldiers and all the heavy artillery they brought couldn't stand up to these freaks, then I wonder what it could be like if they made it outside the city limits," Kevin said looking down to an M-249 S.A.W. that had been split in two and then down to his own shotgun, "I know charming thought, huh?" he scoffed bitterly.

Jake ignored the officer's comment as he searched for anything similar to what he remembered from the images on the security feed. _"This looks like the same hall," _he told himself as he nudged another corpse, causing the dead man's emptied rifle to fall from his hands.

"I heard about that perimeter the Army set up around the city a few days ago," Alyssa replied as she skirted around a fresh pool of blood, forcing herself to look away from its disemboweled owner, "I wonder if they're even still there…I mean…what if one of those things like what we fought earlier somehow managed to reach the city limits…I still can't believe we made it out of that fight."

"Ugh, don't even remind me of that freak," Kevin groaned, having been on hand to witness that little tadpole-like creature grow into a very grotesque adult right before his very eyes.

"I saw it too Kevin…it's definitely something I'm going to be having nightmares about for a long, long time," Alyssa replied looking over to Jake.

The Raccoon residents noticed how quiet he was as he carefully inspected every corpse he happened across.

Come to think of it, this hall reminded her much of the one Yoko had shown them on the security monitor, where she saw that suspicious case. Being further along in the virus's progression, it was natural the black-clad man would be more adamant about finding it.

"You think it's nearby?" she asked.

Jake remained silent scouring the hall like a bloodhound hot on the trail of its target having never been this focused in his entire life, not even on any of his previous assignments.

"_C'mon damn it, be nearby!" _he thought to himself as he rounded the corner to find another pack of zombies in the midst of a bloody feast. In spite of the gruesome spectacle before him his eyes lit up as he realized where he was.

"I'm here," he whispered as he recognized the familiar markings and numberings on the nearby doors and judging by where the zombies were gathered…

Hit by the sudden realization Jake raised his rifle and fired a barrage into the horde to draw their attention. One by one the zombies rose to their feet, six of them altogether, charging towards him shoulder to shoulder and blocking any view he could have of the case if it were still present.

Kevin and Alyssa both took positions alongside the hitman and together the trio opened up on the six blood soaked fiends, cutting them down in a tidal wave of firepower that splattered blood all over the surrounding walls. In the end the zombies collapsed atop one another in a messy heap.

"Think that's all of them?" Alyssa asked eying the mound of rotting flesh.

A low moan called out and Jake fired into the skull of a zombie trapped at the bottom. "That's all of them," he replied before looking down the hall.

"_Alright, where the fuck is it?" _he asked himself as he made his way over to where the zombies had been feasting, finding only a few bloody strips and chipped bones remaining from their most recent meal. "C'mon damn it, c'mon," the hired gun whispered as he kicked aside the rags hoping the case was still there.

"_Eureka!"_

Nudging a few gory chunks aside Jake found the very case he sought, drenched in blood and sporting a few dents, but otherwise unscathed.

"I found it," he told his companions as he took a deep breath and pried the case out from the bloodbath, suppressing a gag as wet chunks of flesh dripped from its surface. Beneath the crimson liquid he noticed an electronic lock and a slot where a keycard could fit.

Fortunately, there was a black and red keycard lying in the pool of blood sticking out from beneath a black rag.

"_If there's anybody watching over me, thank you," _he thought as he lifted the card up and flicked away the fresh blood on its laminated surface.

"Thank god, now let's just get that cure and get outta here," Kevin grunted as he hobbled towards the hitman clutching at his chest, likely in the midst of an attack similar to what he had experienced.

"Right," Alyssa said walking up behind the cop and catching him before he could collapse against the wall.

The trio found an unoccupied lab and made their way inside, where Kevin took a seat at a nearby counter and quickly popped some of those recovery meds given to him, while Jake sat the bloodied case on the counter and cleaned off the keycard.

"Alright, let's just hope this works," he said taking a deep breath.

This was it. This would be a moment of truth for the three survivors. Within the case they would either find their salvation or another dead end. There was so much riding on one simple gesture and time seemed to slow down as Jake stuck the card into the slot.

"_Time to find out what's in the case," _he told himself, feeling like a contestant on some very morbid game show as a small beep sounded and the latches unlocked, _"I doubt there's going to be a bonus round after this."_

Inside the case the three survivors found what appeared to be a gun and a smaller container. Tucked beneath the gun was a small off-white envelope addressed to Dr. Harriet Blanton, prompting Jake to snatch it up and tear it open.

"What is it?" Alyssa asked trying to look over his shoulder.

"Hold on," Jake replied, reading it to himself before reading it aloud:

"_Harriet,_

"_It has taken some time and a whole lot of effort, but I have managed to synthesize four samples of the 'Daylight' vaccine I've told you and Dr. Boyd about._

"_I'm confident that Greg knows nothing at this point, but he's no idiot and I'm certain it will only be a matter of time before he finds out I've told others of this possible breakthrough, after that he'll no doubt try whatever he can to silence me. It's going to be one hell of a gamble, but there must be action taken to assure my research hasn't been in vain. I would have told my friend George about this, but doing so would endanger him._

"_If you are able to do this without arousing suspicion, I would greatly appreciate if you could find a human subject to test this upon and let me know what the results will be. I need to know that this can work and have enclosed the ampoule shooter if necessary._

"_At this point I am almost certain I may not make it out of this city alive with the rate which attacks are escalating and with the way management is starting to crackdown. I need you to get this sample outside of the city by any means necessary, only then will I be able to die with a clear conscience._

"_Sincerely,_

"_Peter Jenkins"_

"Well if this is the vaccine then what the hell are we waiting for?" Kevin said approaching the table and grabbing the small steel container.

There were four vials as described, each filled with a blue liquid that glowed beneath the lights. Jake grabbed one of the tubes and stared fixedly at the mysterious substance.

"_So much riding on this weird blue stuff," _he thought to himself, just before he was hit by another spasm that left him bracing the countertop.

"Looks like we're going to find out whether or not this works," Alyssa said grabbing the vial from Jake's hand and loading it into the launcher.

"And make it quick," the hired gun spoke through gritted teeth.

"Here goes nothing," the reporter said as she felt around Jake's arm for a vein. Carefully placing the gun against his flesh she squeezed the trigger.

Jake barely felt the needle tip prick his flesh as the fiery waves of irritation shot up and down his leg, having to do everything in his power to not scratch at it. He threw himself against the countertop knocking over a tray lined with surgical tools and some empty beakers before he suddenly felt nothing.

Stopping in place the hitman collapsed onto the countertop as he felt a sudden chill envelop him. It was then he felt glued to the steel surface and stood in place with his head lowered and his legs feeling rubbery.

"Jake?" Alyssa asked leaning towards him, "Jake, are you alright? Do you feel anything?"

"Wait," was all the hired gun uttered as he felt the strength returning to his legs and with it, the burning sensation vanished.

"Do you think it worked?" Kevin asked looking over to the hitman.

Jake remained silent as he stood in place, hoping he wasn't hallucinating as he could feel the strength returning to the rest of his body and with it, seeming to double.

"Is something wrong?" Alyssa asked looking down to the emptied vial.

"No…I feel terrific," Jake said looking down to his filthy hands before balling them into fists, "I almost feel like I could go ten rounds with a locomotive!" he said throwing a few practice punches into the empty air in front of him. "I don't know what it does, but I'm guessing it must have to freeze our entire system in order to work. Whatever the case, I feel great."

For the first time in hours, a wave of relief washed over the assassin. Gone was the burning sensation that left him wanting to tear away his own flesh and surprisingly, any other aches and pains he had up until now vanished. He almost felt like a new man.

At the same time there was a lingering feeling where he wondered if the vaccine was a permanent solution to his infection.

"_They said it was only a prototype, so who knows if I could still turn or not," _he thought to himself as he pulled up his tattered right pant leg and looked down to the bandages, watching as the blackened streaks gradually receded at a miraculous pace, _"Then again, I'm feeling more hopeful that Blanton wasn't just spouting hot air," _he told himself as he thought of the helpful researcher and wondered if she was still alive.

"Well then that settles it," Kevin said offering his arm to Alyssa, "Do what you've gotta do."

Jake watched as the reporter loaded the gun with another vial and injected the serum into the officer's arm. Much like it was with him, he too exhibited visible signs of chill before rising to his full height.

"Oh man, you're right this stuff does work," Kevin exclaimed with delight as he ran a hand over his bandages, "I feel terrific."

Jake looked down into the smaller container to find the two remaining samples. "What about you?" he asked Alyssa, "You told us you haven't been bitten or scratched, but I'm thinking you should take some too just to be on the safe side."

"Hmm, you're right," Alyssa said setting down the ampoule gun, "It wouldn't hurt. I don't wanna be in the middle of conducting my interview with the six o'clock news and then end up ripping out the guy's throat midway through," she said pulling back one of her sleeves.

"Yeah, better safe than sorry," Jake said as he picked up the gun and loaded a sample. Grabbing the woman's arm he felt around for a vein before placing it to her flesh and pulling the trigger, causing her to cry out in surprise.

"What's wrong? Did I miss?" the hitman asked pulling back.

"No…it's just that…I've always hated needles…" Alyssa said rubbing her sore arm, looking towards both men in embarrassment.

"Who does?" Kevin replied walking over and giving her an encouraging pat on the shoulder, "Don't worry, we all have our phobias. Christ, I feel like I wanna shit myself the second I set foot on an airplane. Don't feel too embarrassed."

The two survivors shared a laugh while Jake looked at the last sample of Daylight. When they heard nothing from him they noticed him staring at the glowing blue liquid and everything fell silent.

"We can't just leave this here. We need to do what we can to get this out to the world," the hitman spoke.

Kevin and Alyssa stared silently at the last sample, the gravity of the situation having a hypnotic effect upon them as they stared at the blue liquid.

Without a word, Kevin pulled out the same talisman Yoko carried with her throughout the ordeal and clenched it tightly in his hand.

Jake and Alyssa both noticed the multicolored charm and stared intently at it, reminded of the young woman who had lost her life in the struggle.

Everybody who had perished in this struggle had a name and a life, but unlike the thousands of other people, this was someone they had actually bonded with, a person whose name had left an indelible impression upon them, someone whose name didn't deserve to be lost to the sands of time.

"She sacrificed herself so I could live," Kevin muttered to himself, "I'm the cop…it should have been me laying down my life for her."

"Kevin please, pull yourself together," Alyssa said placing a hand on his shoulder, "Yoko knew her time was up once she got infected and she did this so you could live. She did this for all of us. She died for a cause…so that all of us could live…a martyr."

"And right now we have another cause she fought for that must be accomplished," Jake said motioning towards the last Daylight sample.

"He's right," Alyssa said standing beside the hitman, "For Yoko."

Kevin looked towards both of his companions before letting out a deep sigh and clipping the charm to his uniform.

"For Yoko."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment of "Reborn" and unfortunately, a powerful loss has befallen the battered survivors. Will there be revenge in the next chapter? Will the survivors come one step closer to fulfilling their mission of getting the cure out to the world? Tune in to find out next time!

In the original version I had it where Jake, Kevin and Alyssa battled a T-002 Tyrant, but at the same time it was a much abbreviated, one-sided affair as Kevin was equipped with an M-134 Vulcan Minigun that easily tore through the monster like a hot knife through butter, so I decided to completely nix that occurrence, yet at the same time wanted them to have some type of boss-like encounter, which is why I decided to bring the 'Stinger' from "Resident Evil 0" out of retirement and furthermore, give it an entire family to throw against our heroes (and heroine).

I've been playing "Fallout: New Vegas" a lot lately and got the inspiration for the battle with all the encounters I've had against those pesky giant radscorpions, which are a bitch and a half to take down even when you've got companions along and they come at you in packs.

Also in the original, I had it where Kevin took Yoko's charm as a means of both protection (as he recognized she was seemingly untouched whenever it was on her person) and also as a means of remembering her by, which I have also decided to carry over to the rewrite.

Well again this was another spur of the moment chapter in which I spliced together happenings from separate chapters in the original and it turned out to be much longer than I thought it would.

Until then as always read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	43. Ch 42: The Truth Surfaces

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Chapter 42: The Truth Surfaces

Excruciating pain shot throughout Ada Wong's slender frame as she hobbled down the darkened hallway, keeping herself braced against the nearest wall. In one hand she held her Browning HP, the other pressed firmly against the gash on her side.

"Damned Birkin…" she muttered to herself, hoping those pills she popped not long ago were already at work slowing the bleeding and dulling the soreness.

_"According to the blueprints, I should be near the room where they have it…" _she thought staggering along the wall, _"…it'd better be. I haven't spent all my time in this hellhole for nothing," _she added glancing down at the watch that had been given to her by her deceased boyfriend John Fay.

_"He might've been gullible for being a man of science, but even he didn't deserve that kind of fate," _she told herself thinking of the deceased researcher, whom she had been assigned to become acquainted with so she could learn more about the inner workings of the Spencer Estate. He was chosen specifically because of his naivety, and, as suspected, he took things farther than mere acquaintanceship.

The man had fallen for her, yet there were no true feelings on her behalf. To her this was all a job. He was nothing more than a pawn and when Annette informed her of his eventual fate, she was more relieved to have him out of her hair so she could carry out the rest of her mission.

It wasn't the first time she had done this either.

Ada Wong was not her real name and to tell the truth even she didn't know her own birth name. For as long as she could remember, she had been raised by the 'Organization,' enduring a lifetime of training in the finer arts of espionage and assassination.

Her lifetime of service had seen her undertaking dangerous missions all over the world and she had killed many in her wake, many of which had never required her to fire a single bullet. Instead, she would use her womanly charms to obtain her mission objectives and then kill without remorse when called upon.

She was a black widow in the truest sense, addicted to danger and in a morbid love affair with death itself.

With Fay out of the way all that was left now was to obtain the G-Virus samples and destroy the lab. It should have been a simple procedure with security in disarray, but in the end she had gotten more than she bargained for and her safety had been compromised. In a sense she was almost thankful she had stumbled across those two men from the station, Leon Kennedy and Jake Smith.

Together, the trio fought their way out of the station and through the sewers below, finding a secret tram that led them to the facility. It was during the ride they were attacked and she was seriously wounded by the monstrosity that had once been William Birkin.

The two men had managed to hold off the rampaging beast as she drifted in and out of consciousness and if it weren't for them, she wouldn't be alive. That was then and by now their usefulness had run its course. If they were still alive she knew for certain getting away from them would be a problem.

_"Leon's too inquisitive for his own good. If he gets too close…" _her thoughts trailing as she looked down to her gun, _"…and that Jake, something's not right about him."_

The man claimed to be an off duty marine, yet she could see through his disguise thanks to all the extensive physical and mental training she had gone through. He was an enigma altogether. A dangerous aura surrounded him and it made him too unpredictable. He would need to be silenced if he were encountered again.

There was no time to ponder the dark man's place in this equation as she rounded a corner and found the telltale signs of another small battle.

Much of the floor was covered by a large black pockmark from a detonated explosive and lying nearby was a security guard whose right leg had been severed just below the kneecap. More charred body parts lay nearby, including the still animated upper torso of a zombie feasting on another guard's exposed throat. It was tempting to blast the living cadaver, but she decided against it and continued about as she heard low moans in the distance.

Coming to a T-intersection, Ada peeked around a corner to find two carriers fast approaching. Already low on ammo she mentally cursed to herself, knowing the time had come for her to push herself harder than she had been over the past few hours. Bracing herself against the wall with her other hand, she took small baby steps and a few deep breaths before daring to push away. Grimacing at first, the pain quickly subsided and she was soon dragging herself along with a slight limp.

"C'mon…" she whispered to herself looking over her shoulder just as her foot connected with an empty fire extinguisher and she tripped, clattering noisily to the floor and crying out in pain.

_"Way to go," _a voice scolded her as fresh waves of agony zapped through her body, her gash feeling like it had stretched further open as she lay on her side, feeling as if her organs may have possibly elongated with it. _"If the wound itself doesn't kill me, the infection probably will," _the same voice told her as she looked down to the filthy floor beneath her.

Dueling groans sounded in unison followed by dragging footsteps and the young woman looked up to see the same viral carriers staggering towards her, alerted by her little mishap.

"Goddamn you both!" she hissed raising her Browning and firing towards the duo, her first round catching one of the undead men in the shoulder, yet he pressed forth like it was nothing. Squeezing the trigger again, she caught him in the sternum, yet it only yielded the same result. _"C'mon damn it, focus!" _she shouted to herself, firing another round that grazed her would be assailant's neck before tapping the trigger a fourth time and catching it in the throat, sending it sagging to the ground.

"One down," she whispered to herself as the second carrier, a former security guard, stepped over its fallen colleague towards her with its arms raised. Before she could kick out her foot and try breaking its leg, the zombie stopped and lurched its head forward.

"Shit," Ada cried out as she rolled out of the way to avoid a torrent of green vomit spewing from the diseased man's mouth, which quickly ate away at the grilling beneath.

Again raising her Browning, she fired a round which completely obliterated the undead man's already rotting jawbone before firing another that punched through his nose and sent him clattering to the floor.

"Soon I'll be away from you bastards," Ada whispered and was about to try pushing herself back to her feet when she suddenly took notice of a cardkey that had flown out of the man's pocket. Reaching over she scooped it up and examined it.

_"For Authorized Personnel Only – Main Reactor Core Access."_

A wicked grin crossed her features as she realized she had just found one of her needles in a very large haystack.

_"One step closer," _she told herself before she summoned up her remaining strength and pushed herself up to her knees before moving over to the nearly railing and pulling herself up, fighting off the waves of pain which again threatened to tear her apart.

Fortunately, the hike wasn't very long.

Before her stood a large reinforced blast door labeled _'Main Reactor Core.' _To the door's right was a card reader and she eagerly slid the key through, smiling broadly at the hiss of hydraulics and waiting patiently for the door to fully open before stepping through.

The massive room was the size of an amphitheater that had to be several stories high judging by the multitude of catwalks above lined with enough computer banks to put the entire U.S. Department of Defense to shame. At the center of the room was the aforementioned core which powered the entire facility, spanning the room's entire height and making Ada feel as if she were an ant approaching a skyscraper.

Sticking out like a sore thumb at the core's base was a large computer with a literal jungle of wires connected to it.

_"This must be it," _she thought to herself as she carefully approached with her gun raised, waving it around for any possible threats. When neither zombies nor futuristic robots showed up to defend the core she approached and started cycling through the menu and typed in the commands to activate the facility's self-destruct mechanism. Within seconds she had completed one more mission objective.

"Easy as cake," she said with a smile punching the _ENTER _key and looking around, feeling a sense of accomplishment in knowing any remaining threats would soon be incinerated in one massive eruption.

The self-destruct timer was set for forty-five minutes with a ten minute failsafe for personnel to reach minimum safe distance and an audio warning at the five minute mark. The real countdown would begin after that.

_"Should be plenty of time for me to make my escape," _she told herself, _"long as this damned gash doesn't act up then it shouldn't be much of a problem," _she thought looking down to her wound, which had mostly clotted over by now. She was confident there would be more of that first-aid spray lying around somewhere.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How are you gentlemen holding up?" Alyssa asked as she stepped around the corpse of another researcher before looking back to Jake and Kevin.

"Still feeling good," Kevin replied making another check over his newly-acquired Desert Eagle, feeling a bit more confident after finding a few spare clips for it not long ago. "I don't think it gave me superhuman strength, speed or made me bulletproof, but I'll take it."

"Too bad it couldn't have given me the ability to shoot flames out of my hands," Jake said looking down to his gloved fists, "Would save us a lot of grief if you could burn 'em all to death just like that, or make their heads explode with just a thought."

"Oh well, as long as you've got yourself some badass firepower who would need 'em?," Kevin asked raising his magnum and pretending to shoot at an imaginary adversary.

"You'd be surprised, cowboy," Alyssa scoffed as they ventured past another laboratory with its windows covered by a fresh coat of steam, thick enough for them to only make out the flashing of a klaxon light inside. Given what could have caused it, it was probably for the best they couldn't see what was going on.

"Yeah, well now isn't the time to be pondering what kind of comic book superpowers we could be getting from drinking some kind of super drug. We need to find the others and get the hell out of here," Jake said taking the lead as the two residents chatted amongst themselves.

Now that he had been cured of the T-Virus he was more focused on getting out of the facility, regardless of whether or not he would be completing his objective that had brought him to Raccoon in the first place.

Remembering how he had dished out all that punishment back at the sewage disposal plant, yet the brute still came back to challenge him for another round, he felt there was a possibility Birkin could be lurking about somewhere.

After his near brush with death he was starting to wonder if the ten million dollars was really worth it.

_"The guy sent me on a fucking suicide mission. Ten million dollars might never be enough to compensate for any permanent physical injuries I've sustained and it sure as hell won't help with any mental damage I might have after all this is over with._

_ "Damn it Jake, you let yourself get greedy again and look what happened to you the last time with Viper," _his inner voice scolded, causing him to bristle at the mention of his former friend.

"Everything alright?" he heard Alyssa ask him and he turned to face the reporter.

"I'm fine," the hitman said taking a deep breath, "I'm just eager to get the hell out of here…that's all."

The trio was passing what appeared to be another file room when Kevin motioned for them to halt.

"Why the sudden urgency?" the cop asked, "I say we should stop and see what else we can dig up on these bastards."

_"The self-destruct system has now been activated," _a robotic female voice echoed over the loudspeakers, _"This sequence may not be aborted. All remaining personnel should evacuate the premises immediately. This facility will self-destruct in approximately 45 minutes."_

"Looks like I spoke too soon," Kevin groaned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Following one final blast from his customized shotgun, the last zombie fell to the floor with its head obliterated.

Leon gasped heavily and reclined against the wall behind him, physically drained from all the fighting he had been doing over the past few hours.

The rookie officer had just barely survived another skirmish in the cramped V.A.M. room with another group of zombies in order to retrieve a MO Disk. Having gone for more than an entire day without rest and very little in the way of an adequate meal, if he didn't get at least a catnap soon, he would probably collapse and fall prey to the monsters lurking about.

He took one last look around the room and shuddered at the thought.

The once sterile laboratory, which appeared to be some kind of operating room, was left a bloody mess. Granted the place was already trashed when he first entered and encountered the five zombies stumbling about, but once they met his shotgun the mess tripled.

Puddles of blood and bits of brain matter coated the floors, walls and nearby gurney, soaking the once sterilized surgical tools and making it look like they had just been used in an excessively bloody operation, but only he knew better.

The five corpses lay lifeless in the cramped quarters with their heads blown off and no danger of reanimating once again. His eyes were drawn towards the body clad in soiled surgical scrubs, painted mostly a dark shade of crimson after he was forced to jam the barrel into its mouth and pull the trigger.

"Damn I've gotta get out of here," he whispered to himself, driven by his will to survive.

The only other thing keeping him going was the thought of his fellow survivors. It had been hours since he had last heard anything from Jake or Claire and he had gone back to the security lounge in search of Ada, only to find she had mysteriously vanished. He needed to know somebody was alright and reached down for his radio as he stepped back into the corridor.

"You!"

An angry female voice struck him head-on followed by the cocking of a handgun.

Before the rookie officer stood a middle-aged blonde-haired woman in a white lab coat holding a Browning HP in her quivering right hand. It was the lady from the sewers, Annette Birkin, the one who had shot him.

"You and your friend murdered my husband!" the woman shouted with enough force to cause an avalanche. "I know what you're looking for…" the woman trailed off as she produced a foot-long tube shaped like a cigar filled with a purple liquid. "You came for the G-Virus, didn't you? You'll never take it from me; this is my husband's legacy!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm a cop with the R.P.D.!" Leon shouted back keeping his shotgun held protectively close.

"Now where's that spy you were working with earlier? You know who I'm talking about…" Annette demanded, her lips curling into a wolf-like snarl.

"What?" Leon shouted in disbelief, struggling not to drop his guard at the woman's venomous words.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" the researcher replied with a cruel laugh, "You're so gullible. She's one of the operatives sent her by the agency. The only reason why she came here is to obtain the G-Virus."

The words hit Leon like a freight train and his cool features morphed into a mask of anger and disbelief. "That's a lie!" was all he could shout back in an almost infantile defiance.

Annette chuckled harshly, "No, it's the truth. I discovered this when I did a background check on her. She specifically got close to John and became his girlfriend to get information about Umbrella."

The woman's accusations assailed the rookie officer like an opponent's fists and he could no longer hide his disbelief. "That can't be!" Leon half-shouted.

"That's not all I'm afraid, dear Officer," Annette continued, "That mysterious fellow in black you've been traveling with, I'm afraid he's not who he says he is either, Jake Smith I believe you call him…"

"What about Jake? What about him?" Leon spat back at the woman, knowing she was probably going to level more defamatory accusations.

"I'm afraid your newfound friend isn't on the right side of the law, someone you should be locking away in the nearest cell rather than trying to escape with," Annette said pulling out a folded up piece of paper and opening it for the officer to view.

Leon paled when he saw the image on the piece of paper.

In the woman's hand was a wanted poster and shown on the mug shot was the dark stare of the man called Jake Smith, his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows slanted, piercing the soul of anyone who dared to view, along with a side profile which slightly eased the tension of his rock hard gaze, but not by much.

_"WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE_

_ "Jacob Randolph Cavanaugh a.k.a. The Red Dragon_

_ "Wanted by federal authorities for numerous counts of murder. Considered armed and dangerous. Do not attempt to apprehend."_

The poster also displayed the man's physical details, all of which fit Jake's description. Towards the bottom a reward was listed for five hundred thousand dollars, as was a list of aliases used by the criminal, one of which was 'Jake Smith.'

"No…" Leon whispered to himself in utter horror and disbelief. He didn't know if he could believe the accusations made against Ada, but here he was given undeniable proof that Jake Smith was really not who he said he was. All this time he had been fighting alongside a wanted fugitive, his purpose unknown.

"If you don't want to believe it, I really don't care. You're about to die anyway," the woman spoke in a sinister tone as she raised her gun to fire.

Before the fatal round could be discharged, the corridor jolted violently and both people were nearly knocked from their feet.

"Wh…what happened?" Annette blurted out.

A robotic female voice called out to answer their new dilemma.

_"The self-destruct system has now been activated. This sequence may not be aborted. All remaining personnel should evacuate the premises immediately. This facility will self-destruct in approximately 45 minutes."_

"This must be her doing…" Annette called out again, "That tramp must have activated the self-destruct sequence!"

The corridor jolted even harder and debris fell from the ceiling around the two survivors and within seconds, a large pipe fell from above and struck Annette in the back of her head, sending her crumpling to the floor.

"Fuck!" Leon shouted as more rubble fell around him and he barely dodged a pipe that would have likely impaled him. "Looks like I'm gonna have to wait to contact the others," he said to himself as the jolting halted.

Looking down upon the prone researcher he saw the G-Virus sample clenched in her pale hand and he became intrigued by it.

_"So that's what this was all about, huh?" _he said kneeling down next to the woman and rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger, _"One little sample caused a man to become a monster. I wonder what she planned on doing with it? I don't know, but it's too risky to just leave it here," _he told himself as he proceeded to carefully pry the vial out of her hand and slipped it into a compartment on his belt.

The woman's words about Jake still rang fresh in his head and as an afterthought; he scooped up the wanted poster and slid it into his pocket.

_"I don't know who you really are Jake, but when I find you again I'm demanding answers," _the officer thought to himself as he rushed out the nearest door leading back to the junction.

Sirens blared and klaxons flashed throughout the large octagonal-shaped room, the extreme barrages of noises and flashes threatening to drive him insane right on the spot. He forced himself forward and it was through one of the entranceways he saw a darkened figure standing.

"Hey!" he shouted with his shotgun held closely as he ran through the center and onto the nearest bridge, where he was met by three figures.

The first figure was a woman he had never seen before, in a filthy red business suit with an MP5 submachine in hand. Standing on the opposite side was a slightly older male with shaggy auburn hair past his ears and wearing a soiled R.P.D. uniform similar to his, someone he recognized.

"Leon?" the man asked lowering a Desert Eagle.

"Kevin?" Leon replied, overjoyed to see an old friend still alive and well in this mess.

Between the two individuals stood the familiar figure of a man in black who had his back towards him and slowly turned to face him.

"Jake?" the rookie officer shouted, falling back in fear. He had expected to find the mysterious man eventually, but this had been much too earlier than he bargained for.

A wanted fugitive stood before him and in between one of his closest friends and an innocent woman fighting for her survival, a very dangerous one as well.

"There you are!" Jake shouted back over the wailing sirens, like he expected the officer to suddenly pop up. "We've been looking all over for you; don't you think it's about time to blow this Popsicle stand?"

Leon remained speechless, visibly terrified of the wanted criminal, whose deception had fooled him for so long. How could he be so stupid? Deep down he could only think that he was going to get himself and the others killed while 'Jake Smith,' no _Jake Cavanaugh_ stood over their corpses laughing like a madman.

"Leon, are you alright?" Kevin said walking over and grabbing him by his good shoulder, shaking him lightly. "Talk to me man, it's your old buddy Kevin!"

Kevin Ryman, the young veteran officer who put in the good word for him with the R.P.D., tried to snap him back to reality, but would he be around much longer with a dangerous killer behind him?

"Alyssa, you'd better help me with him!" Kevin shouted back to the woman.

Mentioning her name now rang a bell with the rookie. She was Alyssa Ashcroft, an investigative reporter with the Raccoon Press known for her razor-sharp wit and take no prisoners approach with her stories, unafraid to take potshots at those in power. She stood next to the hitman and was about to rush over to help out.

"No!" Leon shouted back raising his free hand, "I'm fine really, I'm just glad to see you're all okay."

It hurt the man to lie to his friend like that, but the sad thing was they seemed to trust a wanted felon, like they too had fallen for his charade. He also feared that if he said anything right now, the man would probably snap and kill all three of them.

The cocking of another pistol from behind soon killed his current train of thought.

Turning around, the four survivors came face to face with the wounded Ada Wong, a look of fierce determination on her face as she kept her gun trained on the four people.

"Ada!" Leon shouted, not knowing whether to feel relieved or worried within the presence of the attractive, yet enigmatic woman. _"Oh god, please don't let what Annette said be true," _was all he could think staring down the barrel of her gun.

"I've been waiting for you, Leon…" the woman spoke in her cat-like purr, almost as disarming as her physical beauty. However, there was nothing seductive about the way she stood her ground against the four survivors, seemingly unfazed by the fact she was outgunned and looking at suicidal odds if she tried anything.

"Wha…what are you doing?" the officer shouted back not knowing whether he should raise his shotgun or what.

"What's going on Leon? Who is she?" Kevin shouted from behind training his magnum on her, his worried gaze darting back and forth between his friend and the unknown woman. Alyssa stood next to him with her MP5 held in clammy hands, shooting a dirty look in the new woman's direction.

"You know what this is about," Ada said inching closer, "So just hand over the G-Virus!" she demanded stretching her free hand towards the rookie officer.

Leon said nothing as he kept his gaze trained on the barrel of her gun, breathing heavily as he could feel his heart sinking into his stomach.

"I don't believe this; Annette was right about everything…" he grimly replied, the hurt creeping into his youthful voice, "You really are a spy sent by Umbrella, aren't you?"

"I should've known something was up with you all along lady!" Jake growled, stepping up behind the rookie with his rifle trained on her chest.

"You stay out of this!" the woman screamed at Jake, diverting her aim towards him. Ada took a few deep breaths and returned her focus to Leon, "That's why I told you to leave without me, but you wouldn't listen! Now hand it over. Don't make me shoot you or any of your friends!"

"Try us lady!" Jake barked defiantly, ready for a good fight.

"Don't do it Leon!" Kevin shouted, "You have no idea what she'll do with it!"

"You can't do that…" Leon replied for once trying to reason with the woman. "It's not worth throwing your life away for! Escape with us and you can help bring these crooked bastards down!"

No immediate reply came from the woman as her aim started to lower. "Leon…" she muttered in a more innocent, remorseful voice.

"I don't trust her. It could be a trap," Alyssa said to Kevin and Jake.

"Me neither," Kevin added, inching closer to Leon, ready to pull him to the ground if necessary.

Jake said nothing, his gaze as solid as steel. The hired gun kept his M4A1 trained on her chest. At this point it was a lost cause to negotiate with her, but he decided he would take her alive for Leon's sake and slowly inched his aim towards her gun, hoping to shoot it out of her hand.

"Leon…I…"

A gunshot rang out and a crimson hole erupted through the woman's right shoulder blade, traveling through an exit wound above her right breast.

"Oh god, Jake, Kevin, what the hell did you just do?" Leon shouted over his shoulder towards the two men.

"Neither of us did anything! I swear!" Kevin shouted back still keeping his focus on the wounded woman.

Ada Wong wobbled from the force of the gun blast and dropped her pistol to the metal bridge beneath. Using her remaining strength she attempted to walk forward, but her legs gave out like rubber and she tumbled over the nearby railing.

As the woman tumbled, the familiar face of Annette Birkin appeared from behind.

"G…G-Virus…" the researcher mumbled as she collapsed to the bridge and breathed her last breath as the remaining adrenaline ebbed from her system.

"Ada!"

With lightning-quick reflexes, Leon rushed over to the railing and reached downward, grabbing the dying spy by the wrist.

"Hang in there Ada," Leon rasped as he struggled to maintain his grip on her thin wrist, "I'm going to pull you up, just bear with me for a second," the cop spoke through gritted teeth, the overexertion taking a toll on his own injury. Pain shot throughout his body as the force of the woman's weight threatened to rip his bullet wound open again and he feared his arm would be ripped from its socket. "Somebody give me some damn help over here!"

"L…Leon…no," the woman weakly pleaded as her body hung weightlessly in the void below.

Jake ran up behind the duo and picked up Ada's Browning, noting the slide had locked back. _"It's empty, just what the hell was she trying to accomplish by this?" _he thought as Kevin and Alyssa rushed over to help.

"But why? I don't understand. What were you trying to do?" Leon asked, his grip loosening with every word.

"I don't know…" Ada sighed, "I thought I was cold-hearted, that I could separate myself from my emotions…but I couldn't bring myself to…" she trailed off looking down into the abyss.

"Who are you?" Leon demanded, gradually weakened as the pain and emotions took their toll on him both physically and mentally.

"No one you should have ever cared about…" Ada Wong sadly replied and with a flick of her wrist allowed herself to fall quietly into the chasm.

"AAAAAAAADDDDDDDDAAAAAAA!" Leon screamed, echoing through the massive chamber.

Jake could only watch silently as the woman called Ada Wong disappeared into the blackness, joined by Kevin and Alyssa who could only watch with mouths agape.

Leon said nothing as he sunk down to his knees, pressing his hands tightly against his head as the torturous wave of emotion washed throughout his body, looking like he was going to rip it from his own shoulders. Remaining silent, the rookie officer slowly rose back to his feet and withdrew the vial containing the murderous G-Virus.

"So this is what everyone's been dying for…" he shouted, a hateful glare piercing the vial.

In a blind rage, the officer chucked the ampoule into the darkness as hard as he could.

Jake watched intently as the manmade virus disappeared from sight, feeling some relief.

_"That little vial of liquid caused all of the madness…all because some people wanted to hog all the glory for themselves. Well no more…I hope," _he thought to himself as he, Kevin and Alyssa stood quietly around the rookie, silently empathizing with his grievous situation. It was Kevin who would break the tense silence.

"Hey man, we're here for you if you need us," he said patting his friend on the shoulder.

Leon nodded and flashed a weak half-smile to his friend, "Thanks, I'm going to need everything I can get. Right now, I just want to get the hell out of this nightmare."

"I second that," Alyssa spoke, placing a warm hand on the rookie's shoulder, "Let's get out of here while we're still around to bitch at each other."

"I agree," Jake added pointing his rifle towards the nearest door.

"Then it's settled. Let's get moving!" Kevin shouted as he took the lead.

The quartet started towards the exit with Kevin taking point, pulling out his shotgun ready to take down anything that stood in his way. Alyssa followed closely behind with her MP5 and Jake followed after her with his rifle.

Leon took the rear flank, holstering his shotgun and again withdrawing the powerful Desert Eagle he discovered back in the station's night watchman's quarters. The gun had been a powerful ally in his numerous battles against Umbrella's monstrosities and his gut feeling told him he was about to use it again.

Somehow the death of Ada had steeled him mentally for what was to come and he suddenly didn't feel much fear anymore. A great blow was going to be struck against the insidious corporation before he exited the nightmare Raccoon City had become, something he could guarantee.

There was also the matter of Jake Cavanaugh, the elusive assassin who for so long had masqueraded as a simple passerby in the wrong place at the wrong time. The truth had surfaced, at least to the rookie officer, and what would happen from there he had no idea, but could only pray for the safety of his friend Kevin and newfound acquaintance in Alyssa. Unbeknownst to them, they were traveling with a ruthless cold-blooded killer who would probably stab both of them in the back once this adventure had ended and he wanted to make sure that wouldn't happen.

It was sickening for him to know they had been so unwittingly deceived, almost trusting the mysterious man as if he were one of their closest friends. Despite this knowledge, they had managed to come this far thanks to Jake's assistance, as much as Leon hated to admit it.

_"He is good, I will give him that," _Leon told himself as the quartet continued down a corridor lined with more corpses of Lickers shredded apart by heavy gunfire. _"Quite frankly, I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for his help. Then again, why hasn't he killed me already? You'd think being within the presence of two officers would be the last place any fugitive would want to be."_

Leon knew he couldn't just strike the man from behind when he least expected it. Such an action would only serve to create chaos amongst him and the others, plus it would be dishonorable conduct unbecoming of an officer of the law and despite his current situation, it was still his duty to follow things by the book.

_"It would make me no better than him," _he told himself as they came to another door and waited for Kevin to make the first move. When he gave the all clear they continued forth.

As much as he hated it, for now he would have to set aside his feelings and work with the criminal as his own survival and that of his two friends depended upon it. When the time was right, he would reveal the truth and make his move to apprehend the wanted fugitive.

_"To think I actually wanted to trust this man, but then again I wanted to trust Ada and look what happened in the end. Would she have still tried to kill us just because we wanted to trust her?" _he thought to himself until he was interrupted.

"Hey, are you coming or what?" Jake spoke ahead of him.

"Yeah…yeah I'm coming," Leon nodded, trying to avoid eye contact with the man.

"Well shift your ass or else we're leaving you behind," the hitman grunted impatiently.

_"Don't think I'm letting you out of my sight for one second. You can count on that."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After what seemed like an eternity, Ada Wong struck the ground with a sickening thud that shattered almost every bone in her body and ruptured several vital organs. How she managed to survive the initial fall was a total mystery, but right now she was just seconds away from dying.

A single tear rolled down her sunken cheek as her last thoughts focused around the youthful rookie named Leon Kennedy and how she thought what could have been. These would seemingly be her last thoughts as darkness enveloped her, waiting to take her away to an unknown fate.

"Ah, there you are!" a familiar icy voice called out.

Using her remaining strength, she opened up one eye to view a blurry figure hovering above her. Before she could put a name on the face, the torturous pain she endured was suddenly gone and she was overcome by a sudden serenity. Things felt very nice and relaxed with her head in the clouds and with this relief came a deep sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"There, be lucky I showed up just in time Ms. Wong, or else you wouldn't be receiving this second chance," the unseen man smiled rising back to his feet looking down to the empty needle.

He had just injected the dying woman with a special concoction that could turn back the effects of death, but could only be used on someone still breathing. An already deceased person would remain dead forever.

It was a variation similar to what had brought him back from the brink, yet it wouldn't offer Ms. Wong the same enhanced physical attributes he had acquired.

_"There can only be one god when the new age arrives," _he thought to himself as he turned to greet the Commander and ten of his remaining subordinates, his enhanced hearing allowing him to hear their muted footsteps before they even stepped through the door.

"What news do you bring me Commander?" he demanded.

"My techs have managed to secure the backup files and should be ready to go, but there is one concern we do have," the Commander reported.

"And what is that?" The Man demanded, sounding visibly irritated.

"We were able to determine another user had accessed the system and that another had managed to send out an e-mail containing vital data. We suspect they may still be present. Do you want them dealt with?" the Commander asked.

"That won't be necessary, not as long as _he_ is still lurking about," The Man replied.

The commandos knew who he was speaking of and remained silent.

"Besides, killing them would be pointless at this point if it's already been sent out. Not like there's anything to incriminate us," he added.

"Very well," the Commander replied before shifting his attention to Ada, "What about her? Will she require an evac?"

"That won't be necessary," he replied producing a first aid kit and what appeared to be a gun, but with a grappling hook attached at the end, "Give her a few minutes. She still has a mission to complete," he said before turning his attention to another commando, "Did you bring the package for her?"

"Yes sir," the commando said placing a weapons case on the ground next to Ada's prone form and undoing the latches. Inside was an FIM-92 Stinger surface-to-air missile launcher and with it, two 70mm missiles.

"Very well, now we must be on our way," The Man spoke in a firm authoritative tone.

"You sure she'll be alright with us leaving her like this?" the Commander asked, "There are still plenty of those freaks running around."

"She's not as weak as she looks," the supervisor replied with a dismissive wave. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend."

The Man picked up his briefcase and went about his way as the commandos exited in an opposite direction.

It was a very important meeting and he could not afford to be late.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Ah yes, 'The Man' strikes again! Sorry Jammer69er, I know you aren't fond of that because you think 'The Man' sounds too cheesy, but I will admit that I might have become a bit lazy in this chapter in regards to thinking up a more creative moniker for him.

Again, this is more so just a "buffer" chapter for bigger events to come, so definitely a little shorter than some of my other work in this story, but still some important events do occur.

As always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	44. Ch 43: Evil Never Rests

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: After a brief hiatus the Metal One has returned! I have once again entered the world of employment and as a result, things have slowed down on the creative front. I'm not going to let that stop me though, especially not when I'm this far along, from cranking out the best damn story I possibly can!

Okay I've rambled on long enough now on with the story!

Chapter 43: Evil Never Rests

Sirens blared and blood red lights flashed all around him as Jake and his motley crew of survivors made their way through the corridor. The adrenaline was pumping through his system after they had blasted their way through some more of those mutant bipedal plants and he still felt like fighting.

"Okay, we're getting close. Be ready for anything else we haven't blasted to Hell yet!" Kevin called back as the quartet weaved around the smoking corpses left by one of the hired gun's previous ventures and were about to approach the open foyer when they heard more moans before them. "Get ready people!" he ordered.

Rounding the corner, another large group of manufactured zombies stood around stupidly waiting for a meal to come their way. Sensing the fresh humans nearby, they sprung to life.

"Time to rock n' roll!" Jake shouted as he raised the M4A1 and let loose on the undead. Alyssa stood next to him firing away with her MP5 and Leon joined in next to them, holstering the magnum and pulling out his customized shotgun. Kevin temporarily tossed his shotgun to the floor to withdraw the rapid fire Beretta 93R, the four of them cutting a path of devastation through the marauding horde barring their path to freedom.

"I hope this is the last we have to see of you ugly bastards!" Kevin shouted before dropping the last zombie with a barrage to the face before he was forced to reload.

Jake remained silent as he looked down upon the warm bodies. Something didn't feel right, sensing his final battle had not yet occurred. He wondered if Birkin was still out there, lurking in the shadows waiting to make his presence felt. This time it would likely be with an even greater vengeance.

_"Gotta be on full alert," _he told himself as he took another look toward his companions.

Leon Kennedy was standing across from him breathing heavily. He had not said a word since they left the junction where Ada fell to her death, probably still feeling angry over his inability to save her. If he had harbored amorous feelings toward her, Jake couldn't see how he could still have seen something in her after the way she wanted to kill him.

Alyssa Ashcroft was adjusting what had once been Yoko's backpack. She was dead set on getting her huge scoop out to the world and he had to wonder if she possessed obsessive compulsive disorder with the wave she carefully checked over every little zipper.

_"What the hell am I thinking? I'd be doing the exact same thing if I were her," _Jake told himself as he looked over to Kevin. The elder officer still maintained the almost childish optimism he knew from several nights earlier, all he had left to keep his sanity in this nightmare. The fact that one of his closest friends had also survived was another comforting factor that kept him from breaking down.

"Alright, we have something to bypass these doors, aside from an entire mountain's worth of C-4?" Kevin asked as he approached a set of blast doors serving as yet another obstacle for them, studying the card reader for disengaging the security lock.

"Here, I found this," Leon said producing a black disk from his back pocket, "See if it works," he said handing it to Kevin.

With a nod, the R.P.D. veteran slid the disk into the small slot and the other three survivors looked tensely to each other until they heard a loud beep and a light flash green. Groaning under the pressure of rare use, the doors slowly opened to another dimly-lit corridor.

"It worked. Now in a few minutes we'll all hopefully be on a train and far away from here," Kevin spoke, "Now we just need to focus on getting to wherever it takes us and finishing those beers I never had the chance to."

"Same old Kevin," Leon chuckled, some of the humor returning to his voice, "Always goes in looking for the nearest bar and comes out with a tab the size of Mt. Rushmore."

"Whatever, now let's move! Go! Go! Go!" Kevin hollered, sounding like a squad leader leading his troops into battle.

Leon and Alyssa ran in first followed by Kevin and then Jake made his way in last, looking around for any other threats or survivors before punching down the button that would close the doors behind them and chased after the others.

The hallway led to large laboratory lined with red stasis tubes and at the end another massive set of blast doors where Leon and Alyssa stood near a panel trying to figure things out.

"Alright, I think you push this button," Alyssa said typing away at the panel before she was rewarded with a beep followed by a blue light flashing overhead.

"Looks like we got somewhere, but this damn thing is going to take forever to load up," Leon sighed as he watched the line of lights flashing one by one, indicating when the tram would be fully charged for another trip.

"So what do we do while we sit around and wait?" Alyssa asked with a roll of her eyes, "Play charades or some other kiddy game?"

"Too bad we don't have the booze and table. We could've played a few rounds of beer pong," Kevin laughed slightly before looking up to the line of lights, which had barely cracked a quarter. "Damn, we're going to be here for a while. If the blast doesn't kill us, old age certainly will."

"Don't think like that man. Nobody else is going to die today!" Leon declared staring towards the blast doors with his customized Desert Eagle in hand. "We've come this far and I have no intention of giving up."

"I sure as hell don't plan on it either," Jake cut in, "Umbrella has too much blood on their hands for us to just call it quits like this. Believe me, being stuck in this shithole for nearly a week has me wanting to put a bullet in quite a few skulls…then again that would be too quick and painless for those sons of bitches."

"Heh, in all my years of investigative journalism I did a whole bunch of stuff I never could have imagined," Alyssa replied with a light-hearted laugh, "Defeating monsters large enough to cut through an entire army, digging up information on an international conspiracy, discovering a manmade virus…I've done it all."

"I'm confident you'll be able to add 'living to tell the tale' to that list, although I don't think this is a tale to be telling the grandkids," Leon quipped standing near the double doors.

"I sure as hell don't. Heck, I probably won't even be able to tell a psychiatrist once we get out of here," the reporter answered.

"It's something we'll never forget, but it's better to tell somebody than leaving it bottled in for so long," Kevin spoke.

"Damn right we won't," Jake muttered from the background.

He was still contemplating whether or not they were truly out of the woods and couldn't stop thinking about Birkin, wondering if he had truly completed his task. The confrontation from the platform still lingered in his mind and he remembered all the punishment the mutated doctor had taken. It left him to wonder if he had somehow survived.

_"Damn it Jake, you should've been more alert. You should have checked and made sure he was still where you left him after you and Leon left the security office," _the hitman scolded himself as he looked over to his companions, _"Christ, I wonder if this self-destruct sequence would be able to stop him."_

"Dang it, all this standing around waiting has me needing to take a piss right now," Kevin grunted starting to hop up and down antsy.

"Just don't do it near me," Alyssa hollered turning away from the cop and finding herself almost bumping into Jake.

The hired gun remained silent, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the reporter and Leon. Only the hum of machinery from adjoining rooms and the trickling of Kevin relieving himself could be heard as he looked around.

"The hell?" Kevin asked as he too joined in on the perplexed stare down, looking at a man who appeared to be in his own little world.

Deep inside Jake's internal radar was going haywire and he could feel the goose bumps forming, sensing an unseen danger close by.

"Uh Jake, hello?" Alyssa asked walking up to the assassin and waving her hand before his face.

He could hear her perfectly and his eyes twitched slightly in reaction to her motion, but still he remained mute, slowing his breathing as he listened for movement.

"Hello, Jake? Are you there?" Kevin asked grabbing the criminal by his shoulder.

Jake reacted deftly snatching the officer's hand, "Shh! Just shut up and don't move. I can sense something."

Kevin and Alyssa both looked to each other and then over to Leon, who they could tell shared similar concern. By now the three survivors had been around the enigmatic wanderer long enough to know to take his warning seriously. They quieted down and listened for whatever it was only he could apparently hear.

"What is it? I don't hear anything," Kevin nervously whelped only to earn a sharp glare from the man in black.

"If I were you I'd shut the fuck up and keep those guns of yours ready," Jake shot back before looking away, "Something big is close by…and it's likely something that isn't friendly either."

A loud clank resounded throughout the massive room to emphasize the hitman's point.

"What the hell?" Alyssa blurted out, instinctively aiming her MP5 towards the ceiling and holding it with a white knuckle grip as the four survivors fell together in a circular formation.

A large dent appeared in the ceiling tile above the double doors, one too sturdy to be that of a Hunter or a Licker. There had to be only one creature capable of that feat of strength.

"Birkin…" Jake growled readying the attached grenade launcher.

Another loud crash was heard and a second dent appeared in the same ceiling tile.

_"Come on you ugly bastard. I haven't got all night," _Jake thought to himself, _"Let's get this over with once and for all."_

He could sense Leon standing next to him and looked to him from the corner of his eye. A similar look of determination was etched into the younger man's features and he nodded back.

"Ready for another round?" he asked the stalwart rookie.

"Guess I'm ready as I'll ever be," Leon replied staring intently towards the buckling tile as another strike rang out, hands gripped on his Desert Eagle. "I just hope we have enough ammo to take the bastard down. I remember watching how that son of a bitch mutated into something bigger and meaner the last time we took it on. We barely had enough to drop it then, how can we be certain we'll have enough this time around?"

"Guess we're just going to have to find out one way or another," Jake answered.

The tile buckled again, this time accompanied by the animalistic roar both men knew all too well. Kevin stood next to them with his shotgun raised, anxious to let loose a volley of buckshot into another monstrosity.

"Settle down pal, you'll get your chance," Jake nodded to the cop, a man possessed by an itchy trigger finger.

The primordial beast struck the tile a few more times before it finally gave way and came crashing down to the ground with enough force to shake the entire room.

"Well I'll be fucking damned," Jake Cavanaugh whispered as he observed the biohazardous monstrosity which emerged from the darkness, now an eleven foot tall giant with clawed arms even longer than their last encounter and rows of teeth where its chest should have been.

"What the hell?" Alyssa shouted again visibly frightened by the abomination, "Who or what is that?"

Jake's lips curled into a smirk, "Kevin, Alyssa, meet Dr. William Birkin!"

The former William Birkin looked at the four survivors and seemed to sniff the air before drawing its arms back and throwing its head into the air, letting out another ungodly roar that threatened to deafen them.

"Yeah, I'm happy to see your ugly ass too!" Jake shouted and fired an explosive round into the mutant's chest. Leon, Kevin and Alyssa all opened fire simultaneously upon the creature.

The bullets hammered away at the former human's massive form as it stood in place, seemingly oblivious to the rounds even as blood gushed from its body and showered the nearby equipment. With a loud heave the massive beast began plodding after the four survivors.

Kevin manned the frontline, tearing chunks away from the beast's leathery surface with the shotgun chattering in his gloved hands, the treaded fabric being the only thing keeping the weapon from flying out of his hands. The towering beast only grunted in response as if it were an ordinary human being stung by a bee.

Jake fired another explosive canister into the creature before firing a volley into its face, and whenever it moved its back arm, the large eye that seemed to be a source of weakness when struck. If he wanted to do significant damage he would have to keep striking the eye. _"If it worked before then it can certainly work again," _he told himself before shouting to the others, "Shoot it in its extra eye!"

Alyssa had been firing away with her MP5, having exhausted an entire clip within the span of seconds and had been burning her way through a second when she adopted the hitman's strategy of aiming for the beast's facial area and extra eye.

_"I wonder what it's gonna take to drop this freak of nature. A howitzer? A battle tank? A fucking nuclear warhead?" _she asked herself before looking towards her companions.

Leon flanked the far right, firing away with the customized Desert Eagle that had quickly become one of his best friends over time. Fighting alongside his close friend Kevin Ryman, the hard-nosed reporter Alyssa Ashcroft and the wanted fugitive Jake Cavanaugh, he didn't know if they together would be enough to stop the monstrosity, yet he felt a sense of confidence in the people he fought alongside.

He would tolerate Jake for the sole fact he was fighting against the same menace. Once this battle was over, it would be a whole different story. Friend or not, in a case like this he was still a wanted fugitive who needed to be brought to justice before he could kill again.

For now, he ejected his empty clip and slapped a fresh one into place, an action that had become second nature to him over the past two days. This was a battle he was determined to win.

The survivors' combined firepower tore away slowly at the former researcher's seared and blistering skin, but the colossus inched towards them like it was nothing and let out a roar before drawing one of its arms back.

"Scatter!" Kevin cried and ducked to barely avoid the massive swipe.

Leon and Jake split up and fired away from opposite sides of the room, while Alyssa had managed to slip underneath one of the monster's claws thanks and pumped an entire clip into the back of its head while it struggled to free the aforementioned appendage from a stasis tube it had gotten stuck in.

Jake stood at the corner of the aisle taking cover behind one of the stasis tubes. During the initial assault, the mutated researcher lowered one of its shoulders and exposed the extra eye to attack. Raising his rifle, he quickly fired another torrent of hot lead into the viral-created organ.

The former William Birkin howled in pain as its eye was struck repeatedly and now turned its attention to Jake. Drawing one of its rear arms back as far as it would go, the beast shot forth and slicked through the stasis tube the hitman hid behind like a hot knife through butter, missing its human target as the crafty man rolled underneath the attack.

Seeing the effect Jake's attack had, Leon also took aim for the eye and fired a single round with his powerful magnum, sending the beast into a shrieking fit as pinkish liquid sprayed from the organ and drenched the concrete.

"Good thinking pal," the hired gun muttered to himself as he fired a stream into the side of the creature's head, knocking it slightly off balance. Growling in fury the monster turned to face him, its glowing red eyes locking onto his bluish-gray ones. _"You're an animal now Birkin, but us humans still have the logic to outthink your sorry ass and if you want us, you're going to have to come and get us!"_

The massive mutant ignored the two officers firing upon it as it now remembered the scent of the man in black, the man it had clashed with twice before. Rounding the corner, the beast continued its pursuit of the nameless warrior, who still fired madly into its sinewy frame.

Seeing that Birkin was far enough away from the others, Jake readied to fire another explosive shell. "Everybody fire in the hole!" he hollered as he pumped the launcher and fired another explosive shell into its chest, creating another massive explosion that nearly knocked his pursuer from its feet. One of the nearby stasis tubes had been damaged and the sickly red substance contained sprayed all over the beast's deformed shell, hurting it even more as it had a damaging effect on its special skin. Several pieces of skin had been blown away and purplish-black blood cascaded down its lumpy façade. Live flames covered its entire body and continued to further eat away.

The attack also had the former human walking with a pronounced limp, exposing its extra eye to further attacks.

"Keep shooting that eye!" Jake screamed to the others as he fired upon the exposed organ once again, causing the beast to scream.

Alyssa and Leon both slapped fresh clips while Kevin ran out of shells and with no time to reload, withdrew his own magnum. They proceeded to fire into the towering abomination's additional eye and left it thrashing wildly at the nearby wall.

"Don't forget about me Billy Boy!" Jake taunted as he peppered the mutant's hide with more screaming rounds. The mutated researcher was beyond irritated as it took gunfire from several directions, flailing its arms wildly hoping to kill more than one of its targets at once. The more pissed off the creature became the more dangerous it would become.

Round after round hammered into the mutant and massive amounts of flesh were torn away, yet it ignored the others' assault and focused its attention solely on Jake, who was burning through his M4A1's ammo in an attempt to do further damage to the B.O.W.'s extra eye.

Bellowing with fury as hundreds of bullets zinged through the air the beast still continued after the hitman, wanting revenge upon the fool who had eluded him.

Jake ducked low to avoid the bullets ricocheting above him, silently cursing his own companions for nearly killing him, but also knowing they were gradually making progress against the brute, who moved at a slower pace from the repeated assaults it endured.

"Is it almost dead?" Alyssa anxiously called out, stopping briefly to wipe away the sweat from her forehead that flowed into her eyes.

"No time to be asking questions, just keep shooting that extra eye and we should have it down in no time!" Jake shouted back over the chatter of gunfire.

Leon now took a position behind the distracted beast and fired the remaining rounds from his clip into its extra eye, prompting one final splash of purplish-black blood mixed with the pink liquid. The attack seemed to have a significant effect on the mutant as it staggered with a delayed pace.

"Now!" Jake shouted looking over to Alyssa and together, they fired what remained of their current clips into the mutant's eye before it let out one final cry of pain.

The massive beast staggered weakly towards the humans and looked like it was about to fall flat on its face. A wave of elation fell over Alyssa as she assumed the nightmarish freak to be dying, while Jake stood quietly next to her waiting to make sure if William Birkin was in his death throes.

"Is it-"

Just when the former Umbrella researcher looked as if it were about to fall over dead, its surface began bubbling again like hot water, just as it did when the hitman witnessed its last transformation back on the tram.

"I don't think so!" he shouted back, knowing what the woman was probably about to ask him.

Looking down upon them, the G-produced creature stood rooted in place as its body suddenly seemed to shrink. After a few more spasms, the creature now stood on all fours like a dog and with the sickening tearing of flesh and bone, the line of teeth on its chest opened up, revealing a gaping maw that could likely swallow all four of them whole at once.

"We're not home free just yet," Jake told the reporter and readied for the mutant's next attack.

Sniffing the air again, the van-sized beast let out another massive roar that sent both survivors staggering backward covering their ears. He was forced to relive it all over again, a horrid jarring scream drilling into his skull like a jackhammer.

As the two humans had their eyes clamped shut, the beast crept closer and opened the wide orifice ready to feast on the human adversary it had hoped to finish once and for all.

"Get away from them!" Kevin hollered stepping forth and firing another barrage of flesh ripping rounds into the towering brute's hide, causing it to again scream in pain.

William was able to sense the officer behind him and knew he had to get craftier in order to survive. Noticing the row of cylindrical stasis tubes nearby, the mutant used its newfound leg strength to leap high into the air and land atop the row with an almost unnatural grace.

"Come down and play with me you freak!" Kevin shouted as he slapped in a fresh clip and fired another salvo upon the mutant.

The G-Virus monstrosity retained some signs of human intelligence and was able to sense the bullets fired in its direction, quickly running away and barely keeping ahead as they chipped away at its hind legs. Sparks flew behind and burning embers rained down upon the other survivors.

Kevin fired furiously in the abomination's direction, knowing that he was rapidly chewing through ammo trying to take down the monster making him twice as desperate. Three additional lives were riding on his shoulders and it was his duty to protect them while he still had an ounce of breath in his body. So far he was doing a good job at distracting the mutant in the hope of buying the others some extra time, but the clock was also ticking down for him as the freak drew closer.

"Now would be a good time to give me some help here damn it!" Kevin shouted to the others.

His cry came too late and with a powerful leap, the demonic savage landed before him and opened its maw, fetid breath enveloping the cop as he struggled to raise his magnum.

"Oh shit…" the officer gasped as he stared into the burning embers the monster had for eyes as it opened its mouth, prepared to bite into him like he was an oversized taco.

A loud _'THUNK' _sounded from behind and there was a small explosion followed by a loud hiss, causing the beast to roar in agony and kick its front legs into the air, barely giving Kevin enough time to move.

The veteran officer lay on his side, noting chunks of warped flesh falling from the brute's body, all covered in rapidly forming sheaths of ice. Through the giant's legs he could see Alyssa loading another liquid nitrogen round into her single-shot grenade launcher.

"Jesus Christ! Watch it with that fucking thing will ya'?" Kevin hollered as he scuttled away.

"A simple thank you would be nice jackass!" the reporter shouted back.

"Not when you almost fucking kill me!" Kevin retorted as Jake appeared alongside the woman.

"Quit your bitching and fucking move!" the hitman shouted as he pumped his grenade launcher and fired an explosive shell into the lion-like beast's rutted surface, catching it in its extra eye and forcing it to higher ground.

"I should've taken that minigun when I had the chance!" Kevin rasped as Jake and Alyssa both scooped him up under the arms to help him back to his feet. "There had better be another S.T.A.R.S. unit out there willing to give me a chance when I get out of this mess."

"Worry about that later," Jake shot back, returning his attention to the battle ensuing between Leon and Birkin, the former barely holding off the attacking beast despite his powerful firearm.

Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, the hitman reached into his shoulder holster and withdrew his powerful revolver and opened the chamber to see it was fully loaded. Smirking to himself, it was time to rejoin the fight.

Leon ran around the large room trying to create as much distance as he could between himself and the beast. The rookie officer was getting dangerously low on ammo and would fire over his shoulder every time he suspected his pursuer to be right behind him. Most of his shots would miss as the brute used its heightened agility to dodge the shots, often leaping atop the rows of stasis tubes to avoid taking fire.

_"Damn, I'm almost out," _the rookie thought as his last shot barely grazed the mutant's tumor-laden hide. He had lost track of how many bullets were left in his current clip and he doubted he would have time to reload without the monster being able to sink its teeth into him. The young man's chest throbbed as he was rapidly running out of breath and would likely collapse at any second.

The mutated researcher's enhanced speed was giving him a run for his money and there were already several instances during the battle where the athletic young officer barely dodged the freak's attempted pounce attack. It was only then that he was close enough to fire a round into that large extra eye and temporarily scare it off before it regained the strength to charge after him. The Desert Eagle had been a godsend, but once it ran out of ammo he had no idea his customized shotgun or handgun would work against the infernal monster, especially after witnessing how it had survived those rounds from Jake and Alyssa's grenade launchers.

"C'mon damn it, c'mon!" Leon hissed as he ran around in circles, feeling himself almost on the verge of tears as the frustration washed over him. _"I can't just give up. I've come too far," _he thought to himself, just as he came to a grinding halt.

The monster had landed before him and opened its mouth wide, just inches away from swallowing him whole, until the thunderous cracks of another magnum resounded and the beast shrieked in pain.

"Not your time to die yet!" he heard Jake Cavanaugh calling out. The hired gun had rejoined the battle, firing an entire speed loader into the creature before reloading with seemingly inhuman speed.

Leon honestly didn't know if he was supposed to feel relieved or not at having been saved by a murderous career criminal, not even as his longtime buddy Kevin and Alyssa joined in.

Birkin had once again taken refuge atop the stasis tubes and looked down upon his human adversaries through the glowing blood red orbs that seemed to bulge out of his deformed head, focused mainly upon the dark-haired human below. A look of defiance was etched into the man's rugged features, only making the hunt all the more exciting. Driven by an endless hunger, his mouth flared and bloody drool dripped from massive fangs.

_"I've kicked your ass twice before Birkin and I sure as hell can make it three if I have to," _Jake told himself, feeling his adrenaline travel through the large gun as he raised it high and fired a round that caught the beast between its eyes.

The monster roared in pain as its purplish-black blood gushed from the fresh crater, its trajectory landing the viral substance just inches away from the hitman's feet.

"That's it, shut up and bleed you ugly bitch!" Jake called out, "There's more where that came from and it has your name on it!"

Jake fired his remaining rounds into the mutant's face, its head thrashing violently upon every impact. Ignoring the pain wracking through its body the beast leapt down and charged head on towards its attackers.

"Oh shit!" Alyssa called out as she whirled around on her heel, almost tripping as she struggled to pull herself around one of the tubes, followed closely by Kevin, who struggled to maintain the grip on his magnum. Leon meanwhile was left in a precarious position of his own, unable to shoot without the possibility of hitting the others, watching as the monster charged forth like a rhino ready to gore its prey.

_"That bastard's going to tear him to shreds," _Leon thought, _"He might be a lowly criminal, but even he wouldn't deserve that."_

"Come on," Jake whispered as the beast ran towards him.

The three other survivors looked on in horror as if they were about to witness a fatal car accident and anticipated to hear the suicidal man's dying cries…but heard nothing.

Before the monster could flatten him like a pancake, the hired gun crammed his frame into one of the creases between the tubes, a wider space left after the brute had caused its foundation to slightly tilt thanks to its weight.

"Surprise fuckhead!" Jake called out as he fired a few more rounds into the back of the creature, including a shot that caught it in the back of the neck and left it bucking its head wildly. Seeing this as an unspoken cue, the three other survivors opened up simultaneously upon the viral monstrosity.

"That's right motherfucker, bleed!" Kevin screamed as he had withdrawn his shotgun and was firing repeated blasts into the wounded abomination, while Alyssa focused on trying to take out its legs with the acidic shells from her grenade launcher and Leon had also been forced to pull out his shotgun, firing salvos of buckshot wherever he could and spraying more infected blood all over.

The former William Birkin had taken a tremendous amount of punishment and looked like he had been in the midst of dying, but with a violent shake followed by a jarring howl; the monster seemed to be suddenly reenergized.

_"How the fuck does he keep coming back?" _Jake asked himself as he witnessed Alyssa barely dodge another head on charge from the G monster when her latest MP5 clip ran dry.

"Help me damn it!" the frightened woman cried as her grenade launcher flew from her grasp.

Alyssa Ashcroft stood frozen in horror as the behemoth stood tall over her, its piercing red eyes inspecting her as it opened its mouth and allowed its rancid breath to wash over her.

"No you fucking don't!" Jake cried as he fired six more rounds into the monster's backside until he reached its extra eye. Leon appeared alongside him and pumped more shells into the monster and Kevin fired from the other side, allowing Alyssa to finally escape and grab her grenade launcher, firing another acidic shell that splashed across the former human's face. Frustration rising to unheard of levels, Birkin once again took to the air and scaled the thin row of stasis tubes before leaping over to the adjoining.

"C'mon, stay still you piece of shit!" Leon shouted as he followed after Jake, his pulse pumping and struggling to predict the creature's next move as it leapt erratically around the open quarters like a pinball. Perhaps the beast was near death after all and could sense it, trying desperately to avoid any gunfire launched in its direction.

_"You're not escaping me so easily you bastard," _Jake thought taking aim at the fleeing beast.

With a pump of his grenade launcher, another explosive shell was sent soaring towards the wounded predator, impacting with its bloodied hide before new tissue could generate in place of its scabbed predecessor. The force sent the former Umbrella researcher falling to the metal floor and rolling through a row of tubes, creating a tidal wave of glass shards and uprooting jagged pipes, sending all of the battling humans ducking for cover.

In the end, Alyssa was the only fighter left on her feet and she knew it was up to her to buy the others some time as they struggled to recover.

_"They've done their part for me, now it's my chance to return the favor," _she thought carefully positioning the grenade launcher, _"I might not kill the ugly bastard, but only if I can slow it down," _she told herself as the roving creature force itself back to its feet and shaking away from debris that had fallen upon it.

Taking a deep breath, the reporter waited for the monster to rise fully to its feet before counting quietly to herself, exhaling again and squeezing the trigger.

The frozen round shot out with a whoosh, a blue fireball streaking its way towards the demon. Soaring through the air, the round struck it in the side and froze a large portion of its wrinkled skin.

William screamed in pain as the skin over his hip was torn away when he attempted to move towards her, hampering his ability to walk. Grunting in exertion, the beast continued forth with its stubborn stride towards the reporter.

"You like that, don't you?" Alyssa taunted as she readied another round, "I figured it was time for you to chill out!" she shouted firing her next round into the creature's face.

For a few short seconds the G-Virus monster came to a standstill, allowing time for Jake, Leon and Kevin to rise to their feet and fire away at their stunned adversary, their bullets chipping away at the newly formed ice and yet more virally tainted blood spilled to the floor.

Flexing its large fangs, the beast now focused its sole attention on Alyssa. The reporter didn't let up and continued firing icy rounds at the beast, freezing portions of its mutated body. Wherever her rounds connected, the three men were quick to fire upon that spot as it seemed to do more damage and left the monster staggering.

Once again hoping to rattle its opponents' nerves, the former Birkin threw its head back and let out another earth-shattering roar, only to be cut off by a freeze round that caught it in the mouth, sending the beast into a choking fit.

"It's working!" Alyssa shouted firing a few more rounds into the beast until her launcher ran dry. She cursed quietly to herself, but knew deep down that it was inevitable after all the other rounds the four survivors spent trying to drop this mockery of nature. With no other option, she was forced to withdraw the Beretta Jake had given her and with enough time went into a potshot stance.

The deep booms of Leon's customized Remington rang out as he pumped shell after shell into the monster, becoming accustomed to the powerful recoil and thus more accurate with his shots.

_"I signed up to be an officer of the law," _he thought to himself, _"I should have been filing paperwork, issuing traffic tickets and attending to small-time disturbances around the city. Instead I find myself in a city crawling with the undead and other walking nightmares. I wonder who pissed off God enough for something like this to happen," _he thought loading fresh shells into his chamber while Jake covered him.

Pumping the gun he stepped up and fired a barrage into the creature's side, spraying more of its seemingly endless supply of blood onto the nearby walls.

Jake loaded his latest speed loader into the S&W, cursing himself in knowing that he didn't have much left. _"Damn, this has to be the most I've wasted on this creep yet," _he thought watching his compatriots fire away madly, the massive room filling with the smoke of their spent ammunition.

Deep down he still felt a sense of pride as he watched the creature stagger weakly towards them. What had once been William Birkin wobbled unsteadily as blood cascaded down his rough surface, pouring out from hundreds of holes all over its body, large clumps now peeling away and dropping to the floor with wet splatters, exposing raw red patches of flesh underneath.

"I think we're finally getting somewhere!" Kevin shouted from his position at the side of the double doors.

The former researcher limped towards them leaving a massive trail of blood behind and its additional eye dribbled its pinkish liquid at an unstoppable pace. Its hind legs barely able to support its bulky frame, the monster let out a weak moan opening its mouth wide, but never closing it as its body ruptured in a dozen places at once and the wounds widened, becoming miniature canyons of blackness.

"You think it's finally dying?" Alyssa called out from behind the beast, remaining in her shooter's stance ready to fire if needed.

"Only one way to make sure," Jake replied readying his launcher, "Get clear!" he shouted to the others.

"It hasn't been nice knowing you Dr. Birkin, but this better be the last time I ever have to see your ugly face again," the hired gun spoke before firing a final explosive shell into the monster's opened mouth.

William Birkin was left with nowhere to go as the grenade impacted, destroying large portions of its mouth and drenching everything within a ten foot radius in its oily blood.

"I sure hope that did the trick," Alyssa said softly.

"It sure as hell better after everything it took out of us," Leon replied panting heavily.

"Doesn't look too frightening right now," Kevin smirked.

_"Have I finally killed this freak once and for all?" _Jake asked himself staring uneasily at the bloody remnants of his target.

"He should be dead, he has to be…" Jake spoke aloud to the others, "It's best we not think about it and just focus on getting the hell out of here."

_"Easier said than done," _he told himself, _"William Birkin injected himself with a virus of his own creation. It looked as if it could turn him into some unstoppable god-like beast. Can he really be killed?"_

"I agree with you on that right there," Alyssa replied and turned around to view the meter behind her, seeing the platform was just seconds away from being fully charged before a loud beep confirmed her hopes. "Finally!"

_"Access granted. Employee transport platform to Level B-4 transit facility now fully operational," _the disembodied robotic female voice reported.

The blast doors slowly slid open to reveal a platform large enough to support fifteen people. Jake watched from the back as Leon, Kevin and Alyssa all made sure they had everything they needed and stepped aboard. Making his way on last, the hitman approached the platform controls and punched in the necessary commands that would let them begin their descent.

"Going down," he reported pushing the last button.

Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Jake turned to face his three companions who all stood closely together displaying mixed looks of relief and sorrow on their sweaty, grime-covered faces. They strangely appeared serene after everything they endured as they chatted quietly amongst themselves. Perhaps the incidents of the past few days had desensitized them to what fears they knew before the outbreak. He knew his stay had sure toughened him mentally.

_"I wonder if this could be a good cure for the littlest phobias," _he thought, _"Once you know there are worse things than dying, then dying doesn't seem like such a serious problem anymore."_

Kevin and Leon were laughing back and forth talking about all the bars they were going to hit and all the Minutemen baseball games they were going to attend once they made it out of the cursed city. Surprisingly Alyssa was standing near them laughing along. The three of them seemed genuinely happy to be around each other, perhaps this incident had proven to be a great bonding experience for them, albeit in a very morbid fashion.

The circumstances under which they had been forced together were unimaginable, spending most of their time together wracked by panic, dodging the ever persistent hand of death and witnessing countless losses around them. Despite all that, they still counted each other as close friends, brought together in the most unlikely ways possible.

Jake kept his distance. He admired the survivors for their persistence and dedication, but still saw no reason for getting closer. It wasn't his personal mission parameters which kept him from getting close to these people, but experience.

Fate had always seemed to deal him a crooked hand and like a stray black cat, he seemed to bring misfortune and death to anybody who dared getting close to him. People who had suffered in the past under his unwitting hand were people much like him, tortured souls with nothing left to lose, as well as those predominantly on the wrong side of the law. Whoever these people were, they were truly innocent bystanders caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, people who had something left to live for and had otherwise completely normal lives.

The only question left now was how he would distance himself from them without drawing any unwanted attention.

The lift continued its descent and it was only a few seconds before bright lights shone through the grating beneath their feet, indicating their ride was almost at its end.

"I hate to interrupt your little coffee clutch, but we're getting closer so you'd better get your asses ready to head out," Jake called out pointing his rifle downward for any incoming threats.

"Typical hard-assed Jake," Kevin chuckled, "Alright, alright we're coming. No need to get your ass in an uproar," he called out innocently as the trio approached the hitman, who looked ready to leap off and bolt towards the tram once the platform finished its round.

Within seconds the platform completely what could very well have been its final stop, depositing the four weary survivors at one of the facility's many transit stations.

To Jake and the others, the Umbrella transit facility looked like any ordinary subway station aside from a few minor changes. The walls were a brownish color and covered in numerous signs and multicolored stripes that almost made it look like they were inside the Great Pyramids, but several lights hanging along the walls contradicted the feeling with a pale, sickly glow. Railroad tracks ran through the center of the room with a platform on either side, stretching through an archway and out into what seemed like an endless darkness with only a faint breeze indicating the tunnel actually had an end.

Waiting for them was a large trolley built on bolted steel panels with enough space to hold a small living room's worth of people, painted red and black and marked with the ever present shield of Umbrella, Inc.

"Shall we?" Jake looked back to the others with a confident smirk.

A shuddering crack overhead rained dirt and pebbles upon the quartet, pipes above rattling like they were going to fall at any second.

"Sounds like we should," Leon sarcastically replied, pausing to get one last good view of their surroundings, "Almost looks like its going to go before the countdown even finishes. Whatever the case, I sure as hell don't wanna be around to see it."

"Me neither. After everything else I've survived, going up in one huge bonfire definitely isn't the way to go either," Alyssa chirped with a nudge indicating she wanted to move.

"Well I'd really like to make it out of this mess alive so I think we need to stop chatting and get to it!" Kevin grunted.

Jake walked up to the plate glass-lined trolley doors, which opened automatically before he could try prying them open. He was first into the car and swept the interior with his M4A1 before announcing it was safe to enter. He kept his hand in the opened doorway long enough for the other three to enter before allowing the double doors to slide shut behind them.

There was time to relax. They needed to get the train operational. Before anyone could act there was the whoosh of another automatic door opening, this one coming from inside.

Jake whirled around with his rifle aimed towards the door joined by the other survivors; they quickly lowered their weapons and breathed a collective sigh of relief only to find a frightened, but very much alive Sherry Birkin standing before them.

"Jake, you made it!" the little girl happily squeaked running over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Hey kiddo," the hitman replied gently running his gloved hand over her golden locks, "Good to see you're alright." For the first time any of his companions could recall, the faint semblance of a smile appeared on the man's young, yet gruff features.

Following the brief embrace, Jake gently sat the girl down on the bench next to Kevin, "You stay here and mind the others. I have to get this train going so we can get out of here."

"No!" the girl shouted suddenly popping up, "Claire! She's still out there! We can't leave without her!"

A massive explosion rang out, forcing the survivors to brace themselves against whatever they could find.

"Oh no…no…Claire!" Sherry called out scrambling back to her feet and trying to run out the nearest door, only to be held back by Jake's iron grip clamping down on her delicate arm.

"Sherry no, you have to stay in here!" Jake shouted barely struggling as the girl tried fighting against his powerful grasp.

"But Claire!" the child protested, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. Jake could feel where she was coming from, but knew she would certainly die if he released her.

"You have to stay inside," Jake firmly ordered leading the girl by the arm over to Alyssa. "Alyssa, watch her and make sure she doesn't leave your sight." He then turned his attention to the officers, "Leon and Kevin, both of you keep an eye out for Claire. I'm going to get this train running!"

With those orders, the hitman turned on his heel and made his way into the driver's compartment, which like the tram that had brought him to the facility in the first place, was nothing more than a leather seat with a control panel resting in front of it. The master key was thankfully in place and the numerous buttons and screens flashed around him awaiting commands to be input.

"_Looks as user friendly as they come," _he thought to himself as his fingers began flying across the keys and within seconds the trolley's headlights snapped on and the hum of an engine followed.

"All aboard," Jake shouted to the others gathered as the trolley began moving. "This is your captain reporting that the Raccoon Express is now leaving the once beautiful Raccoon City and is now en route to 'wherever the hell safety is.' Please make sure you have all your personal belongings gathered and keep your hands and other body parts in at all times. That is all, thank you!"

"Wait, I see something!" Leon shouted from the back, peeking his head out the opened door.

"Claire…Hurry up Claire!" the rookie shouted.

Looking out one of the rear windows Jake could see Claire Redfield sprinting towards the moving train, lugging a bulky Stinger missile launcher over one shoulder which threatened to crush her with every step she took. Despite the burden she bore, the young woman charged with great vigor at the sight of a fellow survivor and didn't appear to slow down one bit.

"Hurry! You don't have much time!" Leon shouted to the woman. Just as he finished his sentence, the younger cop was forced to duck back inside after nearly losing his head on the nearby wall, catching a lever as he fell which opened the side doors manually.

The complex shook violently around them and seemed like it would self-destruct long before the timer expired as Leon predicted. A massive jolt shook the trolley and several items lining the walls rained to the floor below, prompting the others to throw their arms over their heads. Jake too found himself nearly knocked from his feet and braced himself against the doorway to avoid falling.

A loud clunk resounded in the tight quarters and everybody turned to see the Stinger launcher thrown into the car just inches away from where Leon stood.

"Did she-"

Exactly a second later, the form of Claire Redfield came flying into the car, eliciting another sigh of relief from those in attendance.

"Claire!" Sherry cried out happily, trying to crawl towards the woman, but remained firmly held back by Alyssa and Kevin.

"Is that everybody?" Jake called out from the driver's compartment looking back to make sure his companions were still in one piece.

"Yes, we're alive now get us out of here!" Alyssa shouted back, wrapping one arm around Kevin and the other around Sherry's shoulders.

The train shuddered violently, prompting frightened shrieks from the three women in attendance while Kevin was thrown from the bench and cried out in pain, and Leon was thrown forward onto the bench in front of him bringing a sore grunt from his lips.

"Everybody stay down!" the rookie hollered rolling down to his knees and bracing himself against the bench. The violent rumbling continued for a few seconds before abruptly stopping and all seemed normal again.

"Everything okay back there?" Jake called out again, clamping onto the sides of the entrance in case another quake were to follow.

"Yes, I'm fine!" Sherry blurted back, freeing her head from Alyssa's grasp.

"Count me in too," Alyssa chimed.

"Alive and breathing," Kevin grunted.

"Never better," Claire pitched in.

"Good to go," Leon added, "now just keep this damn thing moving!"

"You got it, Copper!" Jake shot back with a wink and thumbs up.

Alyssa and Leon got up to help Kevin back onto the bench, while Claire knelt before Sherry and smiled to her remarking about her vest, saying something about how 'my God has protected you and it will always be with you,' before pulling the child closer for a hug.

Once again the assassin nodded, satisfied with himself. Saving innocents had not been one of his mission objectives, but it still brought some pride in him knowing not everybody in Raccoon had perished, making Umbrella's 'victory' incomplete. He might not have been a hero, but nobody deserved to die in such a horrific way and for that, he could feel some pride in helping others.

It had also made him feel something he had not felt in quite a while…human.

There was also the issue of Birkin.

Jake had seemingly eliminated his adversary and was now on his way to becoming ten million dollars richer.

With the former scientist taken care of, there was still the issue of how he would obtain his payment. This 'mysterious benefactor' of his had a thing for riddles and mind games. How he would get the reward was a challenge unto itself.

Instinct told him that this would not be some simple matter of him meeting the fellow in a dark alley and being handed a briefcase. No, he would probably have to go through some other kind of game to find his money and maybe have to put up with a few of the benefactor's other lackeys. Whatever the case, it was another matter of being on full alert.

"_If the son of a bitch can promise me ten million dollars, then of course he's probably able to afford a small army to back him up."_

Only time would tell as the train sped down the dark tunnel, mere inches away from daylight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: And after some struggle I have managed to crank out the latest offering of "Reborn!"

The major reason I took longer is because for those of you who have read the original, you will notice I made quite a few changes.

I no longer have it where Kevin is mauled by Birkin, so I had to work my way around that. I figured having him infected with the T-Virus was enough already, so I figured I'd be the nice guy this time around. Besides, he being bitten by Birkin would probably infect him with the G-Virus, meaning that Jake and the others would still be leaving the facility with a 'ticking time bomb,' so I figured I'd spare them the dilemma of having to put down another one of their own.

Kevin also didn't have the mini-gun with him this time around, so naturally I had to work around that too and compensate with what weapons the four survivors already had. Oh well, still enough to bring down a fast, hulking resilient abomination!

There was also a scene where I had Jake gracefully execute a back flip off a wall and then land on William Birkin's back and then proceed to ride him like he was a bucking bronco. I figured that would have seemed a little "Mary Sue-ish" (or "Marty-Stu-ish being that he is a guy and everything) for a man of his size seeing how he is supposed to be about 6' 3" and weighing around 220 lbs. it probably would've been a little unreal for a man his size to pull that off, but if this was a "Street Fighter" or "Marvel" fic then I probably would have allowed that to slide.

Also, I figure the sight of Jake riding the mutated Birkin like he was a bucking bronco probably would have created some unintentional hilarity and that's not something I want when I'm trying to convey the image of four battered humans fighting for their very survival against a freak of nature that could swallow them whole in one gulp.

Well I think I've spoken my peace for the time being so until then read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	45. Ch 44: Game Over

Darkness Arises: Reborn

By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: I apologize for the delay with my latest chapter, but once again there were computer issues that caused it and for a time left me wondering if I was going to lose this chapter after everything I had gotten through, mind you I was nearing the end of the second to last scene when this happened, so it was quite a tense experience for me and would have driven me bat shit crazy if I were forced to go all the way back to the beginning and trying to memorize everything.

Thankfully that wasn't the case and I was able to bring this to you as it should have been.

Now, I think I've babbled on enough so let's get this show on the road! See you folks at the end!

*Hops into the rocket car that will take him there*

Chapter 44: Game Over

**September 30, 1998**

For once an elusive peace had fallen over the six occupants as they rode the trolley to freedom with nothing but the weapons they carried and the clothing on their backs.

_"We still have our lives. That's all that matters right now," _Jake thought to himself as he remained in the driver's compartment alone with his thoughts. Everybody else sat in the back chatting quietly amongst themselves.

Now all he had to do was figure out some way he could distance himself from the others.

_"They definitely won't let me out of their sight without a fight," _he thought scratching his stubbly chin, _"It'll be a tough challenge to overcome, but then again so was battling some gigantic freak show three times."_

The train sped through a tunnel with very little lighting, raising questions as to whether or not there were still more of those monsters waiting in the darkness ready to strike if they would be forced to make an emergency exit. Then again, he also had to ask himself if there would be more of those savages waiting for them once they reached the outside world.

_"I haven't heard any news reports for like what, five days now? I knew the Army had a quarantine set up around the city, but with the kind of shit I encountered here, I wonder if they'd be able to take those freaks down. All the labs Umbrella has set up around the world, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised if I hear about more zombies and Hunters running around._

_ "Goddamned Umbrella, they're nothing but a bunch of fucking punks looking to line their wallets. Heh, I oughta' be one to talk, but at least I didn't go around wantonly massacring people for the hell of it._

_ "Hopefully those pricks won't be around much longer with a cluster fuck of this magnitude. No doubt this is probably all over the major news outlets around the world, provided the anchors aren't already lying in pools of their own entrails," _the hitman thought to himself. _"Right now I should just be focused on seeing the sun again. It's been a while since I've really been able to sit down and enjoy the great outdoors without having to be looking over my shoulder."_

From out of nowhere the train jerked violently, interrupting the hired gun from his reverie. Another loud boom sent the man scrambling for his piece.

"What's going on?" Kevin called out, gripping the bench tightly as the whole trolley shook again.

"Oh great, just when we're so close," Alyssa followed.

An alarm suddenly blared and emergency klaxons went off, painting the interior a sickly red color.

"What the hell is that?" Leon called out, instinctively raising his customized shotgun.

Suddenly, the violent rocking stopped and the train began slowing down.

"What the hell?" Jake blurted out checking over the controls. The train was grinding to a gradual halt and the loud screeching of slowing wheels reverberated throughout the dark tunnels, everything beyond his control.

Rising to his feet, the hitman began typing away at the control panel in front of him, pushing numerous buttons and flipping rows of switches before he finally resorted to pounding on the consoles in a fit of frustration, thrashing away in the same manner he would in a fistfight.

"What the fuck is wrong with this blasted thing?" he shouted aloud before angrily driving his fist into a nearby monitor.

"Jake what the fuck are you doing up there? Get this goddamned train moving!" Alyssa hollered from the back.

"What gives?" Kevin followed, "In case you haven't noticed, we're trying to escape from a nightmarish shithole! Now is not the time to be slowing down!"

"What the hell's up with that?" Leon called out walking towards the main cabin, showing up just in time for Jake to nearly rip one of the levers from its slot.

"I haven't done anything!" the hitman snapped, "It just started slowing down all by itself!"

A computerized female voice called out to answer their dilemma.

_"Warning! Biohazardous outbreak imminent! This train will detonate! Repeat, this train will detonate!"_

"Well I guess that bitch just spelled it out for us," Jake grunted next to the cop.

"What is it?" Claire called out as she held Sherry protectively close, the girl burying her face into the woman's abdomen.

Leon ignored her question and ran up to one of the doors jostling them. "I don't know, but the door won't open!" he shot back pounding away with his fists before striking against it with the butt of his shotgun.

"No use in sitting around bitching. We've gotta find a way out of this tin can!" Kevin shouted looking towards a nearby window and preparing to shoot it out, until he was stopped by Alyssa.

"What the hell's wrong now? None of us are infected!" Alyssa shouted angrily, "We injected ourselves with the antidote…unless…"

The reporter turned her attention uneasily towards Kevin and Jake and the others followed suit.

"What?" Kevin shouted in near panic as everybody laid eyes upon him and the hitman, but then caught the gist as he looked down to his heavily bandaged torso.

Jake too stared at the man's soiled bandages before looking down to his right leg, where the once white wrapping peered out beneath the mangled material.

"Both of you were infected with the T-Virus," Alyssa spoke backing towards Leon and Claire, "Do you think that antidote worked?"

Both of the young survivors stared uneasily towards her and Sherry now hid behind Claire, peeking her head out and staring wide-eyed at the two men.

"Do you feel alright?" Leon cut in anxiously. The rookie kept his hand over his sidearm, ready to pull it out and end their suffering if necessary.

"Don't even think about it," Jake growled, keeping his magnum on display to deter any hasty actions by the younger cop.

"Relax," Kevin said placing a hand on the assassin's shoulder, "I don't know about him, but I'm in a little pain right now. I'll manage," Kevin spoke defensively taking note of his friend's action.

"Do you feel hungry or anything? You don't feel like you're burning up do you?" Claire now asked while keeping a close eye on Jake's gun. She recalled her meeting with the dying R.P.D. officer Marvin Branagh, who complained of a burning sensation traveling throughout his body and itching himself until he nearly ripped the flesh from his bones. That was from their first meeting, before she found him in that side office, before he fully transformed into one of the living dead.

"Well, I sure could use a juicy T-bone steak right now and that's it," Kevin said shaking his head, "Ordinary living people foods and nothing else."

"As for the burning, of course you're going to feel that when you've taken some serious cuts," Jake added, "Don't worry, I'm still of sound mind and don't feel the urge to rip anybody to pieces. I think the vaccine worked if you asked me."

"Well if you guys aren't the problem, then who is?" Leon asked looking to the back of the cable car towards the door leading to the second car.

"Something from the lab must've snuck aboard and activated the alarm," Claire spoke up, "We won't be able to move until we find out what it is and take care of it. If it's not here, then it's got to be back there."

Jake and the others focused their attention on the back door before looking wordlessly towards one another.

_"But what could have found us?" _he asked himself before speaking aloud, "She's right. Whatever it is we have to take it down," he said holstering the magnum and readying his rifle. "I doubt we'll be able to get the train moving again, but we should be far enough to escape on foot if need be."

Leon and Claire nodded to one another, the rookie checking over his shotgun and then pulling out his Desert Eagle while the woman lifted the rocket launcher in a surprising display of strength for her slender frame.

"Kevin, you'd better stay here and stand guard," Leon spoke to his injured friend, "Make sure nothing comes through here that doesn't look human."

"Fine, but just come back in one piece," Kevin said taking a seat on the bench with his shotgun ready.

"Oh and here, take this too," Claire said looking to take some extra weight off her by giving her grenade launcher to Alyssa.

"Thanks," the reporter replied.

Remembering her little companion, Claire then turned to Sherry and knelt down to meet the girl eye to eye. "Sherry listen to me, I want you to stay here with Kevin and Alyssa. Please mind them well. I promise we'll be back soon."

Sherry looked uneasily into the young woman's eyes before speaking briefly. "Good luck," and with her words, wrapped her arms tightly around Claire's shoulders.

With his three other companions accounted for, Jake looked to Leon and Claire, ready for what they all hoped would be a final battle against Umbrella's machinations in Raccoon City.

"Ready?"

The rookie and the lady looked to each other and nodded silently.

"Let's do this," Leon said cocking the Desert Eagle.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As soon as the three survivors entered the second car they found themselves discharging their weapons.

A monstrous blob with a gaping razor-lined mouth stood before them, assisted by numerous tentacles gripping the steel pipes above and pulling it towards the trio. A massive red eye gave away the creature's identity.

"So you've come back for more, huh?" Jake whispered to the endless abomination. _"I'm still going to collect and I'll kill you a million times over again if I have to."_

The amorphous blob let out a guttural roar and shot one of its many tentacles outward, close enough to ruffle the uppermost hairs on the hitman's head and forcing him down to a knee. Wasting no time he fired into the shapeless mass before he had exhausted his entire clip and was down to firing napalm rounds.

_"The thing keeps growing by the second," _Jake thought to himself as he retreated to a corner to reload. He looked over to Leon and Claire, the cop firing his customized magnum at the beast while the woman fired away with her Browning HP, both their weapons doing a pitiful amount of damage against the ever-growing blob.

_"If they're even doing any damage at all," _he told himself looking over to the rocket launcher, wondering if they would be able to soften the beast up before any one of them could lug the piece of heavy artillery onto their shoulder and fire the remaining missile into the creature. It would be a crucial shot and the beast would need to be distracted long enough to make it work.

"Leon, help me distract that freak for her," the assassin called over to his companion before turning to Claire, "Get ready! Try aiming for its mouth if you can!"

"Right," the woman shouted holstering her Browning and reaching for the rocket launcher. Leon nodded back and continued firing at the blob, managing to punch holes through several of its tentacles with well-placed shots before he was forced to leap backwards to avoid an appendage trying to wrap around his ankle.

Jake took aim at the creature's eye and fired half a clip into the mutated organ, eliciting another pained animalistic growl, followed by a barrage of tentacles fired in his direction. He was now caught in a game of cat and mouse as the prehensile feelers stalked him from all directions, forcing him to evade by any means necessary and sapping most of his energy in the process.

_"Not the kind of workout I was looking for," _he thought exhaling deeply before rolling out of the way of another attempted strike. Catching himself hastily he lay on his side as he fired another volley of 5.56 rounds into the tentacle, spraying more infected blood onto the steel floor.

Leon fell to the ground as he leapt to avoid a tentacle that tried to wrap around his leg. The customized Desert Eagle fell from his grasp as he hit the floor with more slithery snake-like appendages coming toward him. Out of desperation the rookie reached for his shotgun and fired madly, holding them off long enough to reclaim the beloved magnum. The crackling of automatic fire rang out and he looked over to see Jake covering him, blasting anything that came within five feet of them.

_"You might not be on our side, but thank you," _Leon thought backpedaling towards the wall.

Claire watched hurriedly as both men fought the abomination, hoping to hold it off long enough for her to get her precious shot in. It was a chaotic skirmish raging about with her seemingly stuck in the middle untouched. The monstrosity's gaping mouth flared before her, making her nearly want to lose her lunch as she stared into the crimson abyss, not even wanting to think of what the beast had previously feasted upon.

The missile launcher was a heavy weapon capable of much destruction, but to the slender young woman it wasn't as much of a burden as some would assume. All weapons she had used throughout the adventure became like extensions of herself and she wielded everything with the greatest accuracy and deadliness. The Stinger was no different and if the beast could be held in place long enough, she would destroy it.

But could they hold the beast in place long enough?

It continued to slither towards them pulling itself forward with its tentacles wrapped around the pipes above, threatening to bring the whole roof down upon them.

"Feel free to shoot at any minute now!" Jake impatiently shouted to the woman as he peppered the blob with another barrage.

The constant rattle of gunfire all around her made it hard to concentrate, but the woman tried her best to shut the sound out, steadying her aim on the beast's mouth.

_"C'mon, just a little closer…" _she thought to herself feeling the itchy finger resting on the launcher's trigger, ready to end the beast's life at any second.

Before Claire could get her shot, a new tentacle sprouted from the mangled gelatinous mass and struck her in the stomach, completely knocking the wind from her and the Stinger from her grasp.

"Claire!" Leon shouted as he continued pelting the blob with the magnum's rounds, hoping against hope it was weakening.

The very tentacle that had knocked the woman backwards now wrapped around her waist and began to slowly drag its intended meal towards its waiting mouth, its teeth chomping faster as the warm morsel was drawn nearer.

Claire had been severely weakened by the blow to her abdomen and could barely mount any resistance as the appendage wrapped tighter around her lithe form and drew her in. By the time she was within five feet of the beast, only then did she come through and tried gripping the floor beneath her.

"Help me!" the young woman cried as she tried to find a foothold in the solid surface, but found nothing and was pulled back faster as she was dragged through the slippery substance secreted by the mutated blob as it slithered towards them.

Seeing the woman's predicament Jake let loose on the mutated Birkin with no regards for ammo conservation as she screamed desperately for help. Peppering more rounds into its bubbling hide, the rifle clicked empty at the most inopportune of times.

"Son of a bitch," the hired gun grunted under his breath as Claire was pulled closer towards the creature's opened mouth, like a piece of trash moving along the conveyor belt towards a waiting compactor programmed to mince it into the tiniest scraps. Fishing around his side pack and pockets for extra clips, he came up empty.

"At the best fucking time too," Jake growled at his misfortune and tossed the empty M4A1 aside and withdrew his S&W, the very gun that had saved him countless times. He took careful aim and fired upon the very tentacle that had ensnared Claire in its iron grip.

Leon stood nearby loading what appeared to be his last clip into the Desert Eagle. Nodding to the hitman, the rookie officer joined him in striking the appendage, firing a critical shot that had managed to sever the limb from the rest of the G-creature's body, freeing the young woman from her captivity and the doom that would have followed.

With their companion liberated, Leon's magnum had run dry and he withdrew his customized Remington, waiting as Claire hastily crawled towards him on her scabbed hands and knees.

"Come on, just a little closer! You're almost here!" he shouted to the woman as she kept her head low to avoid the gun smoke already blurring her vision and to avoid any more possible attacks.

"Leon!" Claire cried blindly thrusting her hand into the smoky air as she hoped to grab onto the rookie officer, but felt nothing and coughed harder as the fumes threatened to overwhelm her. "Please help me!"

Using his shotgun to feel through the air, the barrel brushed against the woman's arm and he quickly reached down to pull her up, yanking so hard he fell backwards with her on top of him.

When their vision cleared, Leon and Claire found themselves in an awkward position, lying in each others' arms with the young woman on top.

"Um thanks…" Claire giggled childishly as she stared into the rookie cop's blue eyes.

"No problem…" Leon chuckled blushing in embarrassment.

"Get a room you two. I'm about to kill this thing!" Jake shouted noticing their current position.

Lying halfway across from them was the Stinger and he set his sights on it, an opportunity to complete his mission.

Taking a deep breath, Jake dashed towards the rocket launcher pumping his arms and legs in rapid motion, almost feeling as if lead weights had been placed in his shoes, trying to hold him back from accomplishing the task at hand. Birkin also seemed to take notice of the hitman's plan and launched more tentacles directed at his torso.

Narrowing his eyes, the hired gun launched himself towards the ground performing a picture perfect baseball slide underneath a slimy appendage that would have likely shattered his kneecap had it connected, the lubrication of the smooth steel surface allowing him to slide underneath and towards the rocket launcher.

Noticing that his prize was now mere inches from his fingers, Jake shot his arm out and grabbed the artillery piece, smirking as his hands gripped around its cool metal. With a mighty grunt, he rose back to his feet and lifted the massive weapon onto his broad shoulder.

"End of the road Birkin!" Jake shouted to his mutated nemesis as he trained the laser crosshairs onto the beast's opened mouth and gripped the trigger.

"Game over!"

With a resounding click, the remaining missile shot from the barrel and whistled towards its once human target.

As he had anticipated, the rocket connected with Birkin's opened maw and a massive explosion followed that sent the three survivors flying backwards against the wall and showering the surrounding area with large chunks of mutated skin.

Leon and Claire still lay together with their arms wrapped around each other while Jake was next to them, his head nearly colliding with Claire's as he was thrown backward.

"Did you kill it?" Leon asked, his chest rising and falling at a manic pace as he lowered his hand to look at what remained of their relentless pursuer.

Jake blinked his eyes a few times before raising his head and laying eyes upon his target.

The massive blob that had once been William Birkin now lay in a charred, smoldering heap of bubbling blackness, gradually dissolving into a pungent purple puddle as masses of purplish-blue skin dripped from a deformed shell barely holding itself together.

At last, William Birkin was dead.

"I sure as hell hope I did…and this time I'm hoping it's for good," Jake muttered to himself as he rose back to his feet and helped the others up.

"Good, maybe we can get this thing going again," Leon said reaching down for Claire's Browning HP and handing it back to her. "Maybe we'll be able to find some way to detach this train car and get this freak as far away from us as possible."

The loud shriek of metal scraping against metal rang out and the trio suddenly felt the train car's floor vibrating beneath them.

"That's odd…" Leon spoke rubbing the back of his neck.

"No shit," Jake shot back making his way towards the exit, anxious to get up front and get this car detached so he could get some shut eye.

Approaching the door and gripping the knob, the hitman was nearly knocked backwards again as the smaller form of Alyssa Ashcroft nearly charged headlong into his chest.

"Whoa there, what's going on now?" Jake asked grabbing the reporter by her shoulders and looking into her eyes.

"It's this facility's fucked up security system!" she shouted back, "While the three of you were starting World War 3 in there, the train started back up and some warning message calls out saying each train compartment will detonate in order!"

"Then why haven't you gotten the hell outta here yet?" Jake asked holstering his S&W.

"Because we can't get off!" she shouted over a blaring siren followed by a robotic warning message.

"_Warning! The self-destruct sequence has been activated! Each train compartment will detonate sequentially!"_

The trio looked to Alyssa and then to each other before making their next move.

"We've gotta find some way off here," Jake shouted pushing past the reporter and reentering the train car where Kevin held a wide-eyed Sherry close.

"Jake!" Sherry cried hurriedly, "What's going on? Why aren't we getting off here yet?"

"No time to explain," Jake spoke giving the child a firm pat on the shoulder. _"I'm not going to just sit around and wait to die after everything I've already accomplished," _he told himself as he approached the door leading to the main cabin.

"Can't we just stop the train?" Claire asked motioning towards the door.

"We can't, the door is locked!" Alyssa shouted back jostling the handle to prove her point.

"Should I try blowing it open?" Leon asked readying his shotgun.

"No, you might damage the controls," Jake said placing a hand over the Remington's barrel.

"Hey, what the hell is that?" Kevin called out hearing a new noise coming from behind.

Looking back, they heard a weird squishing sound and leapt back as they realized what was making it.

From the rear ventilation ducts, the all too familiar purplish-black blood oozed through the tiny slots followed by strands of bluish-gray and reddish-pink, the skin tones of a familiar and hostile being.

"I thought you killed it!" Leon shouted to Jake in disbelief.

"I did," the hired gun sternly replied, "Maybe this virus lives on even after you kill the host." It sounded morbidly fascinating from a scientific perspective, a virus having the ability to regenerate parts of its host's body, thus giving them a mind of their own.

"Oh this is just turning out peachy," Alyssa groaned rolling her eyes.

"Oh my goodness, Claire," Sherry called out throwing her arms around the young woman's waist again.

"Sherry, get back!" Leon ordered training his shotgun on the approaching mass filtering through.

The girl let out a terrified scream and flew back as the monster now emerged inside the car, its massive eye and mouth of jagged fangs soon forming from a small puddle of toxic sludge.

"Now that's what I call an entire shitload of ugly," Leon nodded to the others with a pump of his shotgun as they retreated to the back of the car, until they heard the sound of glass shattering.

"Jake, what the hell are you doing?" Kevin called out as he turned to see the tall man climbing out through a broken window as the train moved along at a dangerous speed, inviting worried stares from his companions.

"He's going to get himself killed," Alyssa barked impatiently, needing to be restrained by Kevin and Leon.

"_Jake Cavanaugh, you are officially one crazy motherfucker," _the hitman told himself as he clung to the metal ladder for dear life, the wind blowing against him in one unyielding blast and the surface vibrating beneath him, making it twice as hard for him to maintain his foothold as the train raced down the tunnel at dangerous speeds.

Behind him, William Birkin's virus-addled body had once again reanimated and was now in the process of consuming the compartment holding the others.

"You just don't give up, do you?" he asked the monster, his voice barely heard over the roaring clatter of machinery.

Meanwhile, down in the car Sherry Birkin was formulating a plan of her own based on something she had once seen on TV and hoped it could apply to a real life situation.

Noticing a ventilation cover beneath her, the young girl guessed she could fit through it. Traversing through narrow ducts had been a crucial factor in her survival and she hoped it would once again play a factor, this time for the sake of others.

Ripping away the brittle cover, Sherry smiled as she tossed it aside and pushed her way in; delighted it was wide enough for her to fit through.

"Sherry, what are you doing?" Leon called out pushing through the others towards the duct.

"We have to stop the train, right? I can do it!" the girl shouted back as her feet disappeared from sight.

"But Sherry…" Leon cried before sighing in defeat.

The others looked back to the rookie officer, who shrugged his shoulders knowing he had to deliver bad news. "I can't get through to her. She probably has no idea what to do. I can only pray she doesn't get us all killed."

"So what do we do now?" Alyssa asked as Claire stared anxiously towards the cabin entrance, "Sherry bailed on us and Jake is off doing God knows what, if he's even alive that is. We have to do something."

"Whatever our friends are doing, hopefully it's some master plan to get us out of here," Kevin added looking back to the encroaching blob. "Until now I guess all we can do is try to hold it off."

"It's worth a shot," Leon said taking a position next to his friend.

The older officer pumped his Franchi SPAS-12 assault shotgun, while Leon pulled out his own shotgun and Claire pulled out her newly reclaimed M-79 grenade launcher. Alyssa was down to the Beretta given to her by Jake, but wanted to make herself useful and took a position. Nodding to each other, the four survivors opened fire on the invading mutant.

"Come and get us you freak!"

The main cabin was a small room compared to the rest of the trolley, but the control panel was massive and didn't seem like it should have been able to fit into such a tiny room, increasing the amount of pressure resting on the young girl's shoulders.

Sherry approached the panel and cautiously studied the vast array of blinking switches and buttons hoping to find something that would stop the train, but the constant flashes were blinding and made it difficult to read much of anything.

"Hmm, which one is the right switch?" the girl asked aloud waving her hand over the panel ready to push anything, "Maybe this one?"

A face suddenly appeared in one of the front windows hanging upside down; forcing Sherry to fly back screaming thinking that another zombie had made its way onto the trolley. The smashing of glass followed by a figure landing in the cabin left her falling to her knees and throwing her arms over her head.

"No, please go away!" the girl cried out until a strong hand gripped her shoulder and her fear spiraled out of control, thinking she would never get her chance to escape from the nightmare alive.

"Sherry relax, it's just me," a familiar gruff voice called out from above.

Slowly uncovering her head, she looked up to see Jake standing tall with a stern look on his rugged features.

"Jake!" she called out in surprise.

"What are you doing in here?" the man demanded helping her back to her feet and gently moving her back towards the entrance.

"Trying to help stop the train so we can get away from that monster," Sherry called out motioning towards the control panel, "I wanted to help, but now you're here."

Jake nodded and looked back to the panel, scratching his chin as he studied the switches thoroughly. It had been very user friendly at first when he started the train up, easy enough for even a chimp to operate. If it could be that easy to start, then it shouldn't be too difficult to stop it.

"Alright, where the hell are you?" he said quietly looking for the magic switch that would bring the train to a halt. It was a critical decision that would determine not only his fate, but that of five others as well. Moving his gloved hand over the panel an internal magnet seemingly drew him towards a large black and red switch that looked more important compared to the others.

"Don't have much choice," Jake whispered and pulled the switch back as hard as he could.

The second his hand drew the lever back, a high-pitched whistle sounded throughout the cavernous tunnel and once again the trolley was brought to a grinding halt, threatening to throw the tall man through the windshield.

In the car behind them, the four other survivors fought valiantly to hold the encroaching beast off. Weapons discharged at a manic pace as patches of infected skin and oddly-colored blood rained down from all angles as they fired at anything that moved.

Halfway through the scuffle, Leon had discovered a hidden panel in the floor and crawled through it hoping he would find something that could help slow the train down. That had been several minutes earlier and Claire now deviated from the task at hand hoping for a sign from the rookie cop.

"Leon! Speak to us!" the women cried just before stopping to fire at a tentacle coming down from above.

"I can't hold on much longer!" the rookie shouted, hanging on by the bars sticking out from beneath the trolley car. The man's back was literally inches from the track below and any lapse would have him mangled by the train's wheels.

"If any of them are trying to work up a miracle they sure as hell better be on it about now!" Kevin shouted as Alyssa had exhausted all of her ammo and was forced to take cover behind him.

Suddenly, the train grinded to a halt and seconds later, the side door was pried open by a jagged iron pipe.

"I'd say it's time to be leaving now!" Jake called out poking his head into the train car with a confident smirk.

Without second thought, Claire was the first to emerge from the train and quickly ran over to Sherry wrapping her in a tight embrace. Kevin was out next before helping Alyssa down.

"Are you all okay?" Jake asked and they replied with quick nods.

"Wait a minute…Leon!" Claire blurted out darting her head back and forth.

The thud of a body hitting the ground sounded from beneath the train and the five survivors looked to find their remaining companion crawling out on his stomach.

"Finally," the rookie officer grunted rising back to his feet and dusting off his soiled uniform.

"Leon!" Sherry and Claire shouted in unison and ran over to the officer.

"You're all okay," Leon replied with a satisfied grin wrapping his arms around both women and pulling them into a group hug before walking over to pat his buddy Kevin on the shoulder, genuinely happy to see his friend alive.

The group's victory celebration was cut short as the Birkin monster had now fully consumed the train they once inhabited, its sickly mass oozing out through the windows and slowly creeping towards them.

"Time to get the hell outta here," Jake called out motioning ahead of them.

"Well you heard the man, let's get going. Move your asses!" Kevin shouted to the others and they bolted after the fleeing hitman.

Running towards the front of the pack, Jake used the dim lights lining the tunnel walls as his guide, moving in the only direction he knew was available. Aside from the heavy panting of the others, there were no moans, shrieks, growling or anything to indicate nearby threats. For once he was beginning to feel confident he would be home free once he escaped the darkness.

Returning his attention to the others, he looked over his shoulder to find Sherry, who had been tired out from all the running they had just gone through and was now collapsing to her knees.

"Help me!" the child pleaded weakly unable to rise back to her feet and desperately crawling along on all fours like a baby.

Jake skidded to a halt and allowed the others to run past him, bolting back and scooping the small girl into his arms. He broke into an adrenaline-induced sprint that soon had him nipping at their heels.

Up until a few seconds ago the six survivors had been running in near total darkness, but now the dimness was gradually receding and their hopes were soon lifting.

"Could it be?" Alyssa blurted out, "Oh my god…it is…" she finished, fresh tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

"Hell yeah, it is!" Kevin cried happily, laughing in excitement, "Everybody double time it now!"

Jake gripped Sherry closely as he ran at the back of the pack. Even though he wasn't paying close enough attention, he could tell the girl probably wanted to be put down and run under her own free will, but he doubted her short legs would allow her to outrun the hazards likely to chase them out.

"Don't worry, we're almost out of here," he spoke to her in a hurried grunt, her reply being a tired sigh.

Rounding the corner the six survivors finally laid eyes upon a blinding light and the faint patch of sky blue behind it, something each one of them had been dying to see.

"We're almost home free!" Leon shouted, unable to contain his glee.

"Thank you," Jake breathed quietly upon seeing the light at the tunnel, expressing gratitude towards whatever it was that had allowed him to escape the darkness he had endured for nearly an entire week.

"_Six days in Hell," _he reminded himself as he ran with all the speed he could muster, the huffing and puffing of his companions filling the air, _"a Hell I'm going to escape."_

The once faint patch of daylight shining into the cavernous tunnel grew larger and larger with every step the survivors took in its direction and they could feel the clean fresh air brushing against their battered bodies, a sweet smell of pure cleanliness drifting into their nostrils.

It was a welcome change from the decay and smoke consuming the graveyard Raccoon City had become and to Jake Cavanaugh, it was a small miracle he could even remember what fresh air smelled like.

A low rumble sounded from behind, indicating they must have been within the earliest stages of the self-destruct mechanism. It would only be a matter of time before the wall of fire chased after them.

"_No…not when I'm this close," _he told himself as the rumble grew in volume, followed by a trembling beneath his feet that started out as a soft vibration as the ground stuttered beneath him followed by clouds of dust and tiny pebbles raining down. The tiny pebbles soon turned into giant rocks and jagged spikes, including one that bonked the hitman on his head, re-aggravating the injury sustained in his fall down the stairs from a few nights back. Shrugging off the shockwave of pain, Jake soldiered forth towards the waiting daylight.

The truncated reverberation had grown into a mighty roar and the ground had begun quaking mercilessly beneath him, nearly throwing down. Somehow, he managed to maintain his vertical base as the light drew him in, Sherry's arms wrapped tightly around him.

The chain reaction following the group was massive and none of them doubted they would suffer heavy hearing damage in the end, like they were running through a World War 3 battlefield with bombs dropping all around. Squinting his eyes he managed to make out Alyssa looking over her shoulder, her lips moving yet unable to hear her words as a major explosion rang out, literally nipping at his heels.

"_Not today Satan," _Jake thought in defiance as the flames forced him to keep his head down, daring not to turn his back as he surely would have been blinded by the bright flames threatening to swallow him whole.

Instinct alone told him to pump his legs as hard as he could, feeling the unbearable heat prickle against his exposed skin and the embers searing into his clothing.

"There!" he could barely hear a voice call out before another massive boom sounded above the chain reaction and a massive wave of flame shooting through the tunnel, creating one last massive quake that sent the hitman flying through the air and into the outer world.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The wall of fire shot out from the tunnel in a concentrated stream before reaching the vastness outside, blooming into one large ball of red, orange and yellow followed by a mushroom cloud of the deepest black. It was a strangely beautiful sight when shown against the natural backdrop of the early dawn sky. The spectacle ended almost as quickly as it had begun when a large portion of the mountain above began to collapse, creating a massive landslide that sealed off the tunnel, isolating the horrors within.

"He's alive, I know it," The Man muttered to himself, having witnessed the blast from the safety of a nearby hilltop. _"He's too crafty to be done in like that," _he thought with a confident smirk. It was a worthwhile victory he could use to help prove his doubters wrong.

"Are you absolutely sure one lout from the streets would possess such a capability?" a gravelly voice rasped next to him, "You saw what Birkin became back there."

His smirk vanishing, The Man looked over to the black-clad individual peering through a set of binoculars to his left, who had since removed his gasmask.

"Since when have you been one to ask such questions, Gabriel?" he asked with no attempt to disguise his annoyance, addressing the Commander by his first name, a rare privilege within his company.

"Since you started doubting your own men," the grizzled veteran spoke as he lowered the binoculars and turned to face his longtime associate. A man in his early fifties, the commander's face was decorated by scars, each with a story behind them, the most prominent being the one which ran down his right eye, given to him during a close quarters battle with a Viet Cong officer while serving in the steamy jungles of Vietnam. Like many soldiers, he wore his black hair cropped closely to his head, barely disguising more blemishes covering his skull.

The Man looked into his counterpart's steely gray eyes and exhaled deeply, "I have assured you countless times that this is no lowly hoodlum we are employing. Had he been, he would be dead already." He paused to return his attention to the pillar of black smoke.

"Cavanaugh is a Grade A trained killer who could jump one of your boy scouts from behind and kill them in ten different ways without breaking a sweat. Heh, come to think of it, he actually did manage to kill one of them," he remarked with a casual chuckle, "He is not one to be taken lightly. Trust me, you saw him in action yourself on that monitor."

Before the Commander could reply there was a hiss of static and he tapped his earpiece.

"Karkian speaking," he replied and listened to the message from the other end, "The Springvale outbreak has been contained? Very well then, we should be arriving soon. Remain on heightened alert for any additional threats. Karkian out!"

"Heh, and you thought I doubted your men," The Man laughed from behind.

Commander Karkian only stared at him long and hard before shrugging and returning his attention to the helicopter behind them, where several commandos milled about either loading equipment aboard or relaxing after their recent assignment.

"Load up boys. We're heading to Springvale," the commander ordered pulling his gasmask back on, "Hustle! Hustle Hustle!" he shouted to a lowly grunt giving him a hard shove.

"Soon Cavanaugh, soon…" The Man muttered to himself as he stared again at the black pillar in the distance.

Far too long he had hidden in the shadows, observing with great interest as the hitman he had personally selected surely performed his task with the utmost precision.

"_And to think they thought I was insane for choosing him to perform such a high-risk assassination," _he thought to himself as his eyes traveled downward to the briefcase standing at his side, carrying a precious cargo of ten million dollars.

He had talked the hired gun into putting his own life on the line for that money and for his great deed he would be rewarded, unless he tried anything foolish.

Cavanaugh would likely be pretty incensed after everything he endured and could be ready to lash out when they finally meet face to face. Precautions would be necessary for the prospective clash.

"_You might be good Cavanaugh, but not as good as you may think," _he thought to himself staring down to his gloved hands before turning on his heel and making his way over to the helicopter as it was starting up.

The games would soon end and when the time was right, he would step out of the shadows and reveal himself.

"_Soon Jake Cavanaugh, soon you will know my name."_

Author's Notes: What? Did you seriously think I was just going to end the story right then and there? Nah, that would just be too anticlimactic for my tastes and probably for my viewers too.

Rest assured I still have more to go, so the fun isn't over just yet, especially now that our beloved antihero is finally out of Raccoon City and still has some questions that need to be answered.

Thanks to me finally getting DSL I can now watch videos on YouTube without having to wait FOREVER to view them and it was thanks to that I was able to finally watch the proper "B" scenario ending of "Resident Evil 2," more specifically Leon's ending, and with it I realize that I my take on the ending was probably quite different on what was established in the game itself, but hey this is we're talking about here so pretty much anything goes in the end.

Then again, Jake Cavanaugh _isn't_ even supposed to be in Raccoon City according to the established RE canon, so I'm sure you'll all be willing to let this slide anyway. ;-)

Well all I know is I'm happy to finally get this posted after my forced hiatus so until then read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	46. Ch 45: Daylight

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And so I return to you for another installment of "Reborn" where we were left with a cliffhanger regarding whether or not Jake Cavanaugh survived. Are The Man's suspicions correct? Did Jake truly survive? Read through this chapter and you will find out!

Now on with the story!

Chapter 45: Daylight

A great warmth washed down from above, tickling Jake's exposed skin and rousing him from his slumber.

The hitman grunted aloud as he clasped handfuls of dirt and pebbles, feeling fresh waves of pain course throughout his body like he had just been beaten by a gang of thugs wielding baseball bats. Slowly raising his head, he peeled his eyes open, blinking away the dried blood which had crusted them shut. A brief pain shot through his skull as he raised his head further, but he forced himself to keep it up and within seconds it was gone. It was finally when the pain subsided that he began to feel the cool autumn breeze, so fresh and so pure, caress his sweat-soaked skin and slightly rejuvenate him.

With his strength slowly returning, Jake rose to his knees and dusted off his clothing and with it finally took in his surroundings.

He found himself lying off to the side of the railroad tracks and it was then he remembered the tunnel and the explosion he had been running from. Turning around he found the passageway was now blocked by a massive landslide, a few small swaths of black smoke creeping through tiny cracks in the rock wall.

It brought a silent relief in knowing the facility had been destroyed and with it, the monstrosities that had haunted its labs and corridors.

The brightness upon the rocks made Jake look upward to the sky where the sun had risen above yonder, the dark blue hue gradually receding into a brighter tone accompanied by the already forming cuddly-looking white clouds that would dot the daytime sky.

Listening intently for the presence of others, all he could hear was the faint rustling of tree branches and tall grass. Behind him to the left of the blocked tunnel were endless rows of lush green pine trees intertwined with countless species of other trees showing the earliest signs of fall with their leaves already changing into vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow. Beneath them were thick bushes covered in beautiful flowers and berries that looked safe enough to eat, and then there was grass tall enough to hide in.

The thought made the hitman reach for his gun, but he halted himself as he stopped to take in the innate beauty surrounding him.

Had he ever noticed such beauty in intimate detail before?

For once he could truly feel the cleansing comfort nature offered and sat back to breathe in the pure natural aromas he longed for, those untouched by the death and decay of the living dead. There were no sounds of animals basking about, but it was a good thing to him, they would have disturbed his moment of inner peace with their racket. He felt as if he had discovered a nirvana invisible to the naked eye, one that could have been right under his nose all this time, a creative mind's dream come true.

It seemed as if he was all alone. Was he dead and remembering? Had the fire swallowed him whole along with the others? Had he really died and gone to Heaven?

_"God would have one hell of a sense of humor to let me into his domain if I have really died," _Jake thought to himself as he stared into the wide open prairie before him, _"Guess now I just have to wait for that angel to come usher me off to wherever I'm going."_

He had survived what had possibly been the closest thing to Hell on Earth and he could only ponder if that would be any kind of redemption for his previous sins.

A childish groan snapped the hired gun out of his daydream and he suddenly remembered the others.

Whirling around he found little Sherry Birkin lying face down on the ground with her arms thrown over her head, muffled whimpers escaping from underneath. He suddenly remembered he had thrown himself on top of her to shield her from the blast and aside from the dirt and grass staining her sailor outfit, she appeared in one piece.

The others followed suit, Officer Kevin Ryman being the first to make himself known as he sat up from a patch of tall snake grass, holding his burning torso as he struggled to remain upright. Leon and Claire soon emerged to grab him under each of his arms and helping back to his feet, apparently having also sprained his ankle as he landed.

Rising from a muck-filled ditch not far from them, Alyssa Ashcroft grunted as she brushed away fresh clumps of mud from her once fancy suit and reached back into a puddle to retrieve her stun gun, cursing in disgust as it was now rendered useless due to all the fresh mud clogging its parts.

The five people had survived, a surefire sign he was still alive.

All of them were covered from head to toe in filth, and in the adults' case, the blood and gore of the countless zombies and other beasts they liquidated during their time in the virus-riddled city. The stench of death that had permeated the air of Raccoon City soon returned, the very smell of decay Jake had tried to evade now tainting the fresh air he had so greatly longed for.

In addition to all the gore, sweat poured off of each survivor in sheets of perspiration. Eyes blurred from the humidity of the fires and labs they had just passed through, and the fatigue of enduring several nights with little or no sleep. Each of them fought off headaches and nausea, the thoughts of their trials still fresh in their minds and gradually weakening their constitutions.

The weapons they wielded had become frozen lumps within their cramped, trembling hands and their fingers throbbing from countless trigger pulls, as well as aching wrists from the recoil of powerful weapons, some which they had been forced to master within such a brief period. Hearing damage was also a very real possibility thanks to the vast amounts of close quarters gunfire and explosions.

Overall, they had been sent through the ringer and back, a physical testament to what they had endured over the past couple days.

Physical problems though would soon become the very least of their worries as the horrors of Raccoon would lead them to a new enemy, the unseen visceral entity of insanity.

Monsters that were not supposed to exist came to life and attacked from all angles, countless people close to Jake's companions had died literally hours apart from one another and in the most unspeakable ways possible, heartbreak and betrayal had driven them to the brink, far too much to withstand in such a brief period of time.

They begged for a morning they hoped would bring them salvation, but for how long? They appeared to be safe right now, but once they made it back to civilization and received medical treatment, were debriefed by the authorities and hounded by the media, as well as the greedy publishers who would want the exclusive rights to the story of what really happened in the quarantine zone, the aftermath of their collective nightmare would finally have time to sink in.

Images of horror would assail the battered survivors at every given opportunity, haunting their dreams and even appearing to them during their waking hours as twisted hallucinations. Madness would come to them like a hungry beast ready for its next meal, ready to claw and gnash at the brittle fabric of their minds, already weakened by the horrors they went through.

The memories of those who had died would weigh down upon them, manifesting into reminders of their failures, images of their deaths forever ingrained within the minds of the survivors who would be left to forever ponder what could have been done to prevent such catastrophes.

"_Not me," _Jake thought to himself, _"I saw a lot of fucked up shit in Raccoon City, death and destruction coming at me from around every corner, lots of freaks wanting me dead. I saw a lot of shit that would send a man to a psychiatric hospital for the rest of his life, but like I've said, I won't let it break me._

"_When the smoke clears I will be the master, not fear nor sadness nor anger, just I and I alone. Besides, there wasn't really anything in this town I was attached to anyway, so I didn't really suffer any major losses that will leave me drowning my sorrows."_

The hitman looked to the other survivors, who had now regained their bearings and were making their way towards the tracks.

"_But still, the people I escaped with have suffered greatly and probably lost countless lives close to them, and for what? One company's petty greed? Give me a break! Umbrella will pay within due time!"_

"Oh god, is everybody alright?" Alyssa called out to the others as she clawed her way out of the ditch, her efforts hampered by the dew-covered grass beneath her fingertips, nearly taking another spill before clenching handfuls of solid dirt and gravel.

"We're fine!" Leon shouted back, struggling to maintain a solid foothold while he and Claire struggled to haul Kevin to higher ground.

"But we're going to need to get you two to the nearest medical facility or else you won't be much longer," Claire added struggling with the mud beneath Kevin's weight.

"We…know…" Kevin grunted as another wave of pain shot through his torso, "…just quit yapping and…help me up…damn it…"

"That fall must've reopened your wounds," Claire remarked looking down at the fresh stains on the older officer's shirt.

Alyssa scrambled over to help the others, relieving the already wounded Leon as she took Kevin by the arm and hauled him onto solid ground, breathing a collective sigh of relief as they collapsed to their knees.

"This…sucks…" Kevin groaned feeling the fresh blood beneath his bandages and breathing rapidly again. The itching sensation returned and the cop pressed against his chest to stifle the blood flow, while fighting the urge to scratch in the same breath. "Better give me some more…of that…first-aid spray…"

Pulling out an extra can of the Umbrella-manufactured first-aid spray; Claire knelt down beside the wounded officer and pulled his bandages aside to treat the congealed wounds with small traces of blood seeping out beneath the scabs.

"Don't worry Kevin, you've come this far and we're not about to leave you behind. You're not dying until you're given the order to do so," Alyssa spoke in her usual bossy tone, but with good reason as it would only be the sheer force of will that would keep the man alive.

Leon stood off to the side staring at their wooded surroundings before walking over to his colleagues. "So do you think any more of those things could be out there – outside the city I mean?" he asked wiping some fresh sweat away from his brow.

The question caught everybody else by surprise and they too began to view the seemingly tranquil atmosphere around them with a wary eye.

"_He sure knows how to kill a mood," _the hitman thought staring at the rookie before returning his gaze towards the open prairie and the mountains in the distance the sun would soon rise above.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Jake replied flatly, "From what I saw; all the barricades within the city had been overrun, so there wouldn't be anything keeping them penned in anymore. It's like this city was just one big cage and the only reason they stuck around longer than they could have was for the all-you-can-eat buffet. Now that the city is nothing more than one large funeral pyre, I doubt they'll be hanging around much longer."

Leon scoffed uneasily at the remark, "Great, we actually escape the place and we're still possibly nothing more than a meal in a can, that's all we've become. Once again thank you Umbrella."

"Don't throw in the towel so fast Cowboy, there's still time for us to thank those shady bastards…with our bullets of course," Jake added raising the S&W and pretending to point it at a target.

"_That's the only way I'd be able to think of thanking any of those bastards._ _That company has ruined too many lives, even those of their own_," he thought as he turned his attention towards Sherry Birkin, who knelt on the ground next to Claire as she tended to Kevin's wounds.

"_An innocent child born to demons working for the Devil's company, such was the fate of many others as well. After everything she went through I doubt she'll be following in her parents' footsteps, a definite good thing. She has the opportunity to learn from their mistakes, something the other children who perished won't get. I wouldn't doubt the company won't come looking for her, she knows too much, the price of survival."_

"That was a close one!" Leon exclaimed looking towards the little girl, "That was pretty impressive back there Sherry."

"It was nothing, I saw somebody do that on TV once," the little girl happily replied, "But then again that person also didn't have Jake there helping them out."

The hired gun said nothing and only offered a small smile to the child.

"_She's going to take it hard when she finds out the truth about her parents' research; how she will react I don't know. I don't even know if she knew whether or not that was her father I just killed back there. Some things she's just better off not knowing," _Jake told himself as he looked down to his side pack and noticed the corner of a black book sticking out and it was then his thoughts were taken to another person associated with Umbrella, someone who wasn't evil.

"_Not everybody who worked directly for them was evil either. Sebastian Ramsey and Harriet Blanton were good people unwittingly caught up with the wrong crowd and there were probably plenty of others just like them who knew of the company's inner doings and wanted out, but couldn't or else they would've lost their own lives, or those close to them."_

Jake looked down to his revolver and a wave of compunction washed over him. _"Doesn't sound much different from some of the things I've done in the past. There were people who knew too much and needed to be dealt with. When the bosses called and offered me the green, I tracked those people down and killed them. Nobody ever escaped my grasp; it was take them out by any means necessary. Is it hypocritical of me to suddenly feel remorse?"_

A loud grunt snapped him from his thoughts and he turned to find Kevin slowly being helped back to his feet.

"Okay, I think I'm good to go," he replied.

"Good, now c'mon we've gotta move out!" Claire suddenly barked, "We've still got a job to do remember," she said looking to the others.

The six survivors looked warily towards each other as they pondered what the future would have in store for them. It was almost certain they shared a mutual goal of bringing down the Umbrella Corporation, a goal which the hitman shared, but for now he also had other plans in mind.

"Chris…I have to find you!" Claire said aloud looking off into the distance towards the unseen end of the railroad tracks.

"That's not all," Leon cut in, "We still have to stop Umbrella!"

Kevin and Alyssa both nodded in agreement.

"You're right, this is just the beginning," Alyssa muttered looking around uneasily at her surroundings.

It was only the beginning of a new battle, the war on Umbrella, a long drawn out conflict that would see much more bloodshed, one that would ruin many lives and end even more.

Umbrella was an international pharmaceutical conglomerate with offices in every corner of the world and hundreds of employees at each location. A war with Umbrella would span the entire globe followed by Death itself wherever it expanded to. It would be a bloody affair few would survive, if any at all.

"_They will survive," _Jake told himself looking towards the others, _"They are capable, determined people. If they can work effectively as a team to survive a zombie-infested city, then anywhere else should be a cinch for them."_

"Well where do we go to first?" Leon asked looking around to everybody, "If we're going to wage war against an international powerhouse like Umbrella then we're gonna need to get back to civilization. We'll need food, proper medical attention, rest…" the rookie stopped in mid-sentence to look down at his filthy uniform, "…a change of clothes, and a whole hell of a lot of firepower," he finished motioning with his handgun.

"Not to mention plenty more backup," Kevin added with his arm wrapped around Alyssa, "They outnumber us a million to one. We should at least have some form of backing before waging a full-scale war."

"Where are we going to find that?" Claire asked standing next to Sherry with her hand on the girl's shoulder, "With all the people Umbrella employs I doubt we'll find much help right away. Plus with them being as large as they are, I wouldn't put it past them buying off a lot of higher-ranking politicians. If they can buy off one lowly police chief then who knows what else they can get on their side," she finished with a shudder.

"I just hope we can use all that evidence we gathered against them effectively," Alyssa said patting the back pack that had once belonged to Yoko Suzuki, which bulged from all the documents held within.

"Well its best we get our asses in gear then," Kevin spoke up trying to hobble forward, but was held back by Alyssa, "The more we sit around and debate this, the more time those creeps have to continue their sick research."

"But again, just where do we go from here?" Leon asked again looking around uneasily, as if the silence had finally caught up to him.

"Hmm, well the nearest town is miles away and would take us a good hour or so to reach it on foot, but with both of your conditions I doubt you'd be able to make it unless we find a working car or something," Alyssa reported checking over Kevin's wounds and then looking over to Leon's bloodstained bandage.

"Well we're out in the middle of nowhere…I doubt we're going to find one too easily unless it magically appears right in front of us," Kevin grumbled as his patience finally met its end.

"What about you Jake? Do you have any ideas?" Claire asked turning her attention towards the silent hitman, who had spent most of the conversation looking off into the distance with his arms crossed before his muscular chest.

"I'm just as clueless as the rest of you," the hired gun replied in a flat monotone, "Hell if I know of any safe locations around the area."

"Well you're certainly a lot of help," Alyssa retorted, the bitchiness returning to her tone.

"Our best bet would probably be to split up since we'll eventually be going about on our own anyway," Jake replied, suddenly arousing worried stares from his companions.

"Are you serious? You're just going to up and walk away?" Alyssa shouted in wide-eyed disbelief, "We can't just split up like this! Where will you go? You're in no condition to wander off by yourself after everything you've gone through. "

Jake could feel the eyes upon him and knew it would be hard for them to swallow, but knew this time would eventually come. There had been no time for him to rehearse what he would say, just that he was going to force himself and let his improvised words do the rest.

"You've got your own missions to fulfill," he replied before motioning towards Claire, "She has a brother to find and needs to get that done as soon as possible."

The black-clad man then turned to Leon and Kevin, "They both have a company to bring down and looking like they're itching to get it down as soon as possible, best let them get to it once they've been to a doctor."

Jake then spoke to the reporter herself, "And you have that Pulitzer to get. You best get hopping if you wish to be living in that fancy hilltop mansion away from us losers with your multimillion dollar book deal."

Finally, he came to Sherry Birkin, who now rubbed Claire's hand as she stared timidly towards the tall man. Jake really had no idea what to tell her and offered only silence as he returned her gaze, a thin smile crossing his lips trying to assure her things would be alright.

"No!" Alyssa shouted, releasing her grip on Kevin who now used his SPAS-12 shotgun as a crutch. The fiery woman showed no fear stepping in front of him and getting in his face, "You can't just leave us like this. We've made it this far by sticking together and if you just up and leave you're only exposing yourself to more danger!"

"As if we're not in enough danger already by staying in one large group," Jake rebutted standing tall over the reporter, "How the hell can we be certain Umbrella doesn't already have snipers set up around the perimeter as we speak? We're in too much danger by staying in one large group."

"And just what the hell are you going to do if you know Umbrella is out to get you?" the woman barked like an officer interrogating a suspect, "That facility probably had security cameras streaming a live feed to the main headquarters. How can you be certain your face isn't already posted all over God knows where? You would only be asking for trouble if you went out on your own!"

Jake once again raised his S&W, "After the way I saved your asses countless times back in that facility you don't think you'd be able to get it through your thick skull that I'm not as weak as you think? I guess not!" he scoffed arrogantly.

"Well just what the hell are you going to do once you go off on your own?" Alyssa demanded now crossing her arms and staring intently into his bluish-gray eyes.

"I have to deal with some personal business. It is something I need to do immediately and something I need to do alone," he flatly replied.

Holstering his magnum Jake stepped back to address the group, "I wish you the best of luck in your battle and hope you manage to kill every single one of those sick fucks, but for now I must go along my own way and you are my last hope if I don't come back. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way," he said gently pushing Alyssa aside.

Before he could even take a step forward, the cocking of a gun sounded from behind.

Turning around, Jake was met by the barrel of Leon's VP70. There was a look of fierce determination etched into the man's youthful features.

"You aren't going anywhere shit bag!" he hissed.

"Leon what are you doing?" Claire gasped running up and placing her gloved hand over his gun.

"Yeah, what gives?" Kevin called out from behind as he hobbled over to his friend, "Jake hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Bullshit!" Leon shouted back wrenching his gun free from Claire's grasp and again training it on the criminal's forehead, "You stay right where you are or I'm going to put a bullet through that ugly face of yours!"

"Leon what is the matter with you?" Alyssa shouted walking towards the rookie with her hands raised in front of her.

"Alyssa, get out of the way at once," the young man demanded through gritted teeth, his blue eyes growing cold as he kept his gun raised. "You're going to stay right where you are," he spoke to Jake.

"Or you'll what?" Jake asked showing no fear of the cop's sudden outburst. His magnum hung limply in his hand and he could have returned the threatening gesture, but the presence of the others prevented him from doing such. Besides, he wondered if the man really intended to shoot him.

"_After the way I saved his ass back there I doubt he'd be able to turn on me just like that, unless his head has already been fucked up that bad. Besides, I would own his ass anyway if he tried anything funny," _he thought with a smirk.

"Let us deal with this Jake!" Alyssa called back before returning her attention to Leon.

"It's him you shouldn't be listening to!" Leon defiantly spat with an unwavering aim, "That man is a liar and a cold-blooded killer!"

"What the hell are you saying Leon? That man just saved our lives back there!" Kevin shouted gripping his friend by his good shoulder, his tone almost frantic.

"I'm saying the man is a wanted fugitive that's what!" Leon screamed in his friend's face shaking his arm free and returning his aim to Jake.

Claire's visage suddenly paled and she looked hurriedly back and forth between Leon and Jake, "What?" she blurted out in disbelief, "Jake?"

"You heard me right, he's a wanted fugitive!" Leon barked defiantly to those around him, "He's wanted for numerous counts of murder and probably a whole laundry list of other offenses! He's a dangerous man."

Alyssa's gaze now darted back and forth between Jake and Leon as her mind attempted to make sense of everything she was hearing, while Sherry stared in terror and confusion towards the man who had become a guardian to her throughout the entire ordeal, the look on her face asking the question 'Is he really telling the truth about you?'

Jake stood silent to the accusations, no visible signs of emotion or attempts to defend himself, even at a time where he knew his cover was blown.

"_He's got something right, but how? How could he have found out my true identity?" _he asked himself.

Leon took his gun in one hand as he reached the other into one of his pockets to produce a folded up piece of paper. "You want proof? Here!" he spoke never taking his gaze away as he backed up to hand the paper to Alyssa.

The other three adult survivors congregated around the reporter as Sherry kept her distance, looking like she was ready to bolt. Absolute silence filled the air as they studied the paper, their glances turning from confusion to disbelief and then to outright horror.

"Tell me how you plan on explaining that Jake Smith, or should I call you Jake Cavanaugh?" Leon growled as he turned the piece of paper to face the hitman, revealing it as a wanted poster with his mug shot posted for the entire world to see, the officer's knuckles whitening as his grip on the VP70 tightened and his trigger finger began to itch.

Jake offered a quiet sigh as he took in the five survivors staring at him. The cat was now out of the bag and he didn't know what was next to come. He hoped it wouldn't have come down to this, figuring he had a greater possibility of slipping out in the shadows with nobody knowing who he really was. The only likely suspects he could think of for possibly digging this up would either have been Ada or Annette Birkin, both of whom were now deceased.

The pumping of a shotgun sounded and Kevin stepped forth alongside his friend, putting all of his weight on one leg.

"Now that I think about it, I think I've heard of you too Cavanaugh! Just never thought I'd be meeting you face to face," the veteran shouted, "You were on the news a while back for robbing a bank in Manhattan. You killed a bunch of people that day, most of them police officers," he spat, the venom dripping off every word as the SPAS-12 shook in his hands. "You're a career criminal…a hitman, a drug addict and above all, a cold-blooded cop killer!"

"Really, so that's what they're saying about me now?" Jake replied in sarcastic amusement, "I've been called a lot of things in my life, but never a drug addict. I wonder where the hell they came up with that. That's the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard said about me." Knowing he was found out there was no point in lying any further, "Whatever, they were right about everything else."

"So it is true!" Claire joined in, raising her Browning HP at Jake's eye level while Sherry took a protective position behind her, peeking her head out for another look at the man she had come to trust during the nightmare in Raccoon. "You've just been gaining our trust to save your own sorry ass!"

Jake glared at the accusation before chuckling slightly at the remark, "I wouldn't necessarily say I used all of you for my own gain, but rather for a mutual convenience. Without me, you would have all died back there in that house of horrors and without you; I'd probably be in the grave myself."

"You've already got a price on your head," Leon scowled looking out of the corner of his eye at Kevin and Claire, "I say we put a couple bullets in you and help ourselves to the reward money, get some kind of compensation after everything we've been through!"

"Is that so?" Jake smirked, "After all I've done for your ungrateful ass and this is how you thank me? You could at least give me a head start if you're so intent on hunting me down," he quipped.

"You shut the hell up!" Kevin roared nearly squeezing his trigger, "You're a wanted criminal, a menace to society! The only place you are going to is the nearest jail! We're placing you under arrest!" To emphasize the point Leon used his free hand to reach into his utility belt to pull out a set of gleaming handcuffs.

Jake could only laugh at the hollow threat, "Don't humor me pig! Do you seriously think you're in any position to be making an arrest in your sorry condition?" he asked holstering his magnum and raising his empty hands to taunt them, "Look at the two of you; I could easily kill both of you where you stand without breaking a sweat! Is it really worth the pain and suffering?

"Besides, the R.P.D. has gone up in flames, just where do you expect to haul my law breaking ass off to? Are you even police officers anymore to begin with? Your jurisdiction, your boss and co-workers are all gone, and with it your licenses to practice law enforcement. Right now you're probably just committing an illegal act of vigilantism." With those words the hired gun smiled knowing frontier justice was not tolerated.

Kevin, Leon and Claire all stood in silence with their guns still trained on the fugitive, both officers appearing visibly touched by his words. A tense stillness followed and all that could be heard was the morning breeze gently blowing through the trees and bushes. They were left in a deadlock and were hesitant to act against him, torn between their respective duties and the reality dawning upon their current situation.

"Well what's it going to be, Officers?" Jake asked, "Are you going to shoot me or are we all going to be able to walk away from this with no bloodshed?"

"Ha, yeah right! Like we're just going to let you walk away like that!" Kevin spat bitterly, "You lied to us all this time and you expect us to just let you off the hook? Whatever this 'personal business' of yours is how can we be certain it doesn't involve more innocents being endangered?"

"Trust me, after everything I've gone through I doubt I'd be up for more troublemaking," Jake replied looking to the other three people before looking over to Alyssa again.

"Not happening!" Leon roared, "You're up to no good and I can smell it from a mile away. You're too unpredictable for our liking and we can't have you running off by yourself. We don't trust you!"

"I trust him!" Alyssa called out, finally inserting herself into the tense standoff.

The other three adults were stopped dead in their tracks by the reporter's sudden outburst and for the first time in seemingly forever, they diverted their attention away from the hired gun, now staring at the blonde woman in utter dismay as she walked over and took a position at the black-clad man's side.

"You what?" Kevin asked in disbelief, "How can you trust him? He's a dangerous man!"

"He won't," Alyssa replied in a confident, assuring tone, "I know I haven't been around him long, but I don't think he will, not after everything we've done for him and not after everything he's done for us," she spoke turning to the man and smiling happily towards him, something out of character for the hard-edged reporter.

Taking another deep breath she continued on with her case, "Jake Cavanaugh may be a convicted criminal, a piece of shit, but maybe there is a different side to him after all. He helped us out back at the bar and if it weren't for him, you probably wouldn't be here pointing your gun at him right now," she spoke directly to Kevin.

"Thanks to this man's skills several people survived the night of the initial outbreak, and from what I've heard, he also went on to help plenty of others as well."

Alyssa then turned her attention to Leon, Claire and Sherry, "Jake told me all about how he helped you survive an overrun police station and the sewers that followed. Judging by the trust you placed in this man, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume everything he told me was the truth.

With her case made, Alyssa then turned so she was looking the taller man directly in the eye, "That brings us to the research facility. I can testify firsthand that Jake helped us immensely as we fought for our very lives in that slaughterhouse, watching as he helped us fight manmade abominations straight from a child's nightmare and later gather mountains upon mountains of evidence we will be able to use in our case against Umbrella.

"I fought alongside Jake as we battled those giant scorpions, and so did Kevin. I was there when the four of us battled that freak while we were waiting for the platform we hoped would take us to safety. Jake saved my life just as I was literally inches away from the mouth of doom, and it wasn't the first time. He saved me countless times both on the streets and in that shithole back there."

Alyssa again turned to face the other survivors, "He saved all of your lives more than once and I think it's safe to say that if it weren't for Jake Cavanaugh, we would all be dead, more meaningless numbers chalked up on Umbrella's list of casualties. Thanks to him, we have lived to fight another day and in doing so, he has earned my trust."

More silence filled the air, the tension gradually fading as the reporter stepped in as an unlikely voice of reason. Leon and Kevin both looked to each other cautiously and with a collective nod slowly lowered their weapons. In turn, Leon looked over to Claire and nodded in a wordless urge to lower her weapon. Sensing an air of safety returning she complied, but Sherry wasn't as quick to embrace the thought and remained hidden behind the woman.

"It's okay," he heard her whisper to Sherry, wrapping her arm around the girl's shoulders and pulling her so she could face Jake. The child's cerulean eyes remained unblinking as she continued to stare uneasily towards him, knowing reaching through to her was likely a lost cause.

"Thank you," Jake whispered to the reporter.

"No problem, I think we should be thanking you for everything you did for us," Alyssa replied before turning to the others, "Sure, you may be a fugitive, but right now you are the least of our troubles. We have a much greater threat to deal with and we're not going to be continuing our fight with the real enemy if we stand around here shooting each other. You would make a valuable ally in this crusade and right now we're going to need all the help we can get." The reporter then stepped towards the others, "Don't you agree?"

The other four survivors looked carefully towards each other, still unsure of what to think, knowing they were about to make a difficult decision as they turned back to Jake and Alyssa.

"I guess you have a point, but I still don't know if I can trust him completely," Kevin spoke shooting a cautious glance towards Jake, "He's been lying to us this entire time about who he was and why he was here. He could have stabbed us in the back whenever he pleased and gone about his merry way without a second thought."

"But he didn't," Alyssa cut in, "He had plenty of opportunities where we were most vulnerable, but he never acted on them."

"Yeah, he didn't," Kevin forced himself to say, "but he has still rattled my trust and how can I be certain he won't just go off and cause trouble elsewhere if we just let him go?"

"I won't," Jake flatly replied, his gaze alone indicating he was telling the truth, "I might have killed in the past, but I've never targeted the innocent on purpose. You have my sworn word that no harm shall come to you or any other bystanders wherever I venture off to. Any of Umbrella's bitches I cannot guarantee."

Leon and Kevin looked to each other before looking over to Claire and then lastly Alyssa, reluctantly nodding to one another.

"But where will you go now and what is this 'personal business' of yours that has to be taken care of?" Alyssa asked, a worried expression now crossing her features.

Jake remained quiet and looked over to Sherry, who still clung protectively to Claire. He knew she didn't need to hear what he was about to say and looked to the young woman as if he were telling her to keep her distance. Looking to the others he waved them over and when they were close enough he lowered his head and they followed in sync like football players entering a huddle.

"Alright, what I'm about to tell each of you I want to remain strictly between the four of us. Whatever you do don't tell Sherry, she doesn't need to be hearing this," he whispered to the trio and raised his head up again to catch another glimpse of the little girl and then over to Claire, the tension of not knowing what was being said eating away at her.

Taking another deep breath Jake calmly explained himself, "Remember that monster we battled back in the tunnel? In case you didn't know that freak was once William Birkin. I was sent here to eliminate him, for whom and what reason I honestly don't know."

"William Birkin?" Alyssa asked, "Other than working on the G-Virus what would anybody else have against him? More importantly who would want him dead?"

"I overheard a conversation in the sewers between his wife Annette and Ada," Jake spoke, looking towards Leon as he mentioned the latter woman's name, "She said something about the company trying to take his project away from him. Knowing them, they probably wanted all the credit for themselves. When he refused, they shot him up pretty bad and he injected himself with the virus to stay alive, explaining how he ended up the way we found him."

"Whoever this person was that hired you must not have known about his transformation when they sent you in," Kevin added.

"Probably," Jake continued, "All I know is I received a phone call from some mysterious schmuck who wanted Birkin dead by any means necessary. Like I said, why they wanted him of all people dead instead of some Umbrella higher-up I have no clue."

"And just what were you promised for this hit?" Leon asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.

"Ten million dollars," Jake replied, eliciting a small whistle from Kevin.

"How can you be certain you'll be given this reward for completing your mission?" Leon continued staring warily into the assassin's eyes, "For all we know, it could have been one of Umbrella's own who sent you into the city, wanting you to eliminate a troublesome employee when one of their hit squads couldn't get the job done."

"Yeah, you're probably nothing more than a pawn in one large demented game of chess," Alyssa now entered, "How can you be sure that it's not a trap and that you'll only be disposed of once they know you've completed your mission? They might want you dead to make sure you won't squeal if somebody else catches you."

The reporter made a good point. Ever since he had learned of Umbrella's involvement in the matter he had begun to suspect that perhaps his 'mysterious benefactor' was in fact one of the company's own. Jake knew he was dealing with a company that had a legitimate business image to protect and could not afford to expose themselves to the common public, meaning they would need someone to do their dirty work for them. Perhaps he was that unlucky soul chosen for the unenviable task.

"Yeah, you've got a point," Jake replied, but then patted the holster where his powerful S&W rested, "but I'm not as much of a pushover as they might think. I know this person who called me is probably no better than those Umbrella bastards, but if this person is up to no good then believe me, he'll be having some serious troubles once we meet face to face."

"Don't get too cocky, remember it would be you against thousands," Kevin spoke carefully, "You might be good, but you wouldn't stand a chance even against that many. Where are you supposed to be going for this meeting? Maybe we should tag along for support."

Jake looked annoyingly towards the officer before speaking again, "This is something I have to do alone. I don't want anybody else caught in the crossfire if things go to shit. You people have been through enough already and I doubt you need my problems interfering in your lives.

"Where I will meet this person at I have no idea. They never said anything about when they would contact me either. I guess I'll just have to play it out by ear and see what happens."

Before the conversation could end there was one last thing the hitman had to do. Reaching into his side pack, he pulled out the entire stack of evidence he had amassed and handed it over to Alyssa, the diary of Sebastian Ramsey being at the very top.

"There, that's everything I managed to get my hands on in Raccoon City. It should be more than enough to help you out. Overkill you could call it, but in this case it's a good thing. They detail a lot of ruined lives and shattered dreams; will definitely be an interesting read."

"Thanks, it will help a lot," Alyssa said happily accepting the newly-gathered evidence.

"Oh, and I have one more request," Jake started towards the woman, "If anybody asks you anything, Jake Cavanaugh died in Raccoon City!"

"W-What?" she stammered in confusion.

"You heard me," he cut in, "Jake Cavanaugh _died _in Raccoon City!"

Alyssa stared at him blankly before she forced herself to ask "Are you serious?"

"You're goddamn right I am," the hitman replied before looking towards the officers, "You should be more worried about going after the real bad guys instead of wasting your time chasing a ghost."

"I don't like it, but he does make a good point," Leon finally acceded, "Right now we've got bigger fish to fry."

"Yeah, you're right," Kevin said warily looking the battered hitman up and down, wondering if he would be able to continue forth in his current state.

"Well now that I've made my point I guess I'll be on my way," Jake said stepping away from the huddle, "All I can really do right now is wish you guys the best of luck. You're my last hope if I don't make it out alive. Umbrella will be a tricky opponent to deal with, but within due time it will happen and I know you won't stop until those bastards are six feet under."

He turned on his heel to leave, but had only taken three steps when they called out again.

"Wait!"

Turning around he found both officers walking towards him ready to ask one last question.

"Jake listen, before you go we have one last question for you," Kevin spoke looking over to Leon and then back to the hired gun. Clearing his throat he spoke, "I know this may sound like a goofy question, but we need to ask. If you saw that we were cops then why didn't you try running away? Being a wanted fugitive we should be the last people you'd wanna be around."

"A cold-blooded killer mind you," Leon added.

The assassin sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, "I'm not as cold-blooded as you might think, Officer. You haven't done me any wrong so why should I to you? I may be a convicted killer, but I still have a sense of honor…unlike some people. Besides that, in this case it was a matter of mutual need. You needed me to survive and I needed you, fighting amongst ourselves would've been a waste of ammo and manpower, therefore I allowed you to live."

His eyes then narrowed, "Had you turned your guns on me, I would not have hesitated to fire back."

Kevin and Leon looked to each other again, both feeling awkward yet relieved at the same time.

"Well I guess we won't be keeping you any longer, but you'd better stay true to your promise that no innocents will be harmed," Kevin spoke, his gaze hard and unmoving.

"You have my sworn word," Jake replied and offered a slight wave before turning on his heel and making his way down the railroad tracks and into the approaching daytime.

"Good luck," Alyssa muttered watching every step the man took until he became a black blur in the distance and then completely disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_ETA in approximately forty-five minutes sir," _the pilot's voice crackled over his headset.

"Very well," The Man replied just before taking a sip of his iced tea, "I trust things shall still be contained by then."

"Almasy is no slacker. Things will be contained," the raspy voice of Karkian boomed next to him over the din of helicopter rotors.

He looked over to find the grizzled veteran picking out soot from beneath his fingernails with his trusty combat knife, a sight almost humorous to him.

"No offense was intended behind that statement my friend, but rather I was expressing my hope in their abilities," he spoke in his almost patronizing timbre, earning a snort from the man next to him. He said nothing further and let his longtime associate continue with his menial task.

The Man focused his attention towards the other men gathered in the cargo area, all of them sitting quietly with their weapons held tightly in their hands, unsure of what was to come. They knew firsthand that a 'situation being contained' wasn't always as it seemed and that there were times they could find the opposite waiting for them once they touched down.

These men had seen battle against both human adversaries and the beasts born from the horrors of biological experimentation. Serving under him, they knew every mission they entered could possibly be their last.

Despite the gasmasks covering their faces he knew they were all men of varied ethnic backgrounds who each brought their own strengths to the table. He also knew they would display looks of bewilderment underneath whenever he looked in their direction, knowing he wasn't like everybody else. Everybody did, it was nothing new to him. He used to chuckle to himself in the beginning, but now it had become so commonplace the novelty had worn off a long time ago.

Yet there were some who still pushed their luck and ended up paying dearly in the end.

"Who the hell does he think he is not picking one of us to do it? I tell you, we could've gotten that Birkin chump before Umbrella sent their hit squad in," he heard a voice coming from the opposite end of the cargo area, in spite of the mighty roar of blades and the hushed whisper it was spoken in.

Immediately he knew who the voice belonged to and rose to his feet, walking to the end of the cargo compartment and stopped in front of the man, his colleagues frozen around him.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Private Burbank?" he spoke in his sharpest tone possible.

He knew his words would bore a hole through the young man sitting before, one Lyle Burbank, who was known to have a knack for technology, as well as wanting to hump any woman that crossed his path, yet for the most part lacked the guts to act on it.

Heavy breathing was the younger man's only response, eventually fogging up his goggles.

"I trust you know how deeply that offends me," he spoke, clamping his hand around the commando's throat like the jaws of death, silencing him.

With very little effort he dragged Pvt. Burbank over to the cargo door and held him by the throat with one hand while using the other to slide the door open. Outside winds flooded the cabin and threatened to pull the occupants out into the open, forcing those closest to relinquish their grip on their guns and clamp down on their benches. The Man clamped down on a nearby support rail as he pushed the wayward commando out the door and dangled him by the collar, threatening to drop him at any given second.

"Now…" he trailed off, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair and garments while he listened to the soldier's pathetic whimpering, "…are you going to continue questioning my intuitions or do I have to send you to your maker sooner than expected?"

Pvt. Burbank looked back horrified into his superior's fearless eyes as his feet dangled over nothing. Knowing he would have to if he wanted to survive, but hating himself for doing it, he nodded wordlessly.

"Good, I'm glad you see things my way for once," The Man sneered tossing his subordinate back into the safer confines, nearly knocking over the two men he sat next to. Without a word, the private sheepishly pulled himself back into his seat, beyond mortified.

"_We have possible contact," _the pilot's voice again called out, _"Right beneath us. Subject appears to be alone, but there could be more with him inside."_

Pulling the cargo door shut The Man made his way over to the cockpit to get a look at the aforementioned subject.

Along a desolate strip of highway sat a lonely rest stop, where a grungy-looking man could be seen in the parking lot near a motorcycle waving his arms frantically.

"Lower the chopper," he ordered.

"What?" both the pilot and navigator replied in unison, staring back in awe.

"You heard me, lower the chopper at once!" The Man spoke, this time with more force.

"But sir your meeting -" the pilot shot back.

Before the pilot could protest any further he was met with a Desert Eagle to the face.

"You will do as I say or else I will be forced to make an example out of you right in front of your colleagues to show what happens when you commit insubordination!" The Man growled his patience at its very end, "Now lower the chopper at once."

Both pilots looked silently to each other nodding as they proceeded to lower the chopper.

"_He'll be on his way, why not leave a little 'surprise' for him?" _The Man asked himself amusedly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun now burned high and brightly in the air as Jake Cavanaugh continued on with his solitary walk towards an unknown destination, a strange tranquility wafting through the soundless air as he soldiered forth down along a highway that was literally in the middle of nowhere.

Without a watch there was no telling how long it had been since he had separated himself from the others, but he assumed it had been more than an hour since as he traveled further into the great unknown, no road signs to confirm if he was anywhere near another close by community.

Fortunately, there were no signs of zombies, B.O.W.'s or any Umbrella personnel showing up to silence him. Everything had been a peaceful trek so far.

However, his natural instincts told him the peace wouldn't last much longer. At any time he was bound to finally meet his mysterious benefactor and he could sense a possible ambush right then and there. He was ready to fight if need be and was almost certain he would end up killing this fellow if given the chance after everything he was put through.

"_Like he wouldn't deserve it," _Jake thought to himself, _"who knows if he's put any other unfortunate souls through similar horrors just because he can't be caught doing it himself. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already in the process of hiring someone to come after me."_

The hired gun took another good look at his surroundings. Wide open fields now replaced the lush vegetation he had first discovered upon his escape from the research facility, the prominent shades of green now replaced by the dull brown and golden shades of autumn. The blue sky remained clear with a few clouds here and there, giving him a splendid view of the Arklay Mountains in the distance.

"_No doubt Raccoon City must have been quite the place to live until Umbrella came along and ruined everything. Definitely looks like a nature lover's dream come true," _he thought to himself.

A low rumbling broke him out of his reverie and he placed a gloved hand over his stomach. It had been a while since he had enjoyed a decent meal and now that he was free of any visible threats his own hunger had been given the chance to kick in.

"Would be nice if there was a Burger Kong somewhere around here," he said aloud as his eyes scanned the horizon, "Hell I'd be happy to have a candy bar right now. Anything is better than nothing."

The assassin's walk continued until he happened across the first road sign he had seen since his journey, a large blue sign indicating the Stop n' Stay rest stop was just one mile ahead.

"Hell yeah," Jake exclaimed at his good fortune and began jogging forward ignoring the aches in his feet.

He continued running until a yellow building came into sight and he slowed down, grunting heavily and buckling over as he rubbed his throbbing right leg.

Looking up he saw a sign indicating the building was indeed the Stop n' Stay rest stop, but aside from a few parked semi-trucks present, there were no sounds indicating activity. Suspicious, he readied the magnum and quietly approached the building until he got up to it and hugged his back against the wall, listening for any possible disturbances as he moved along and took a deep breath as he reached the end and peeked around the corner.

There was a red and black motorcycle parked in front of the building and nearby there were the spent casings of automatic weapons and a few emptied shotgun shells, along with all of the building's front windows being shattered, indicating signs of a struggle.

Stifling a grunt of pain, Jake knelt down and crouch walked along the building's front, making sure to avoid stepping on the glass shards and peeking his head inside for any threats, only to find the diner seemingly abandoned and an adjoining convenience store which he had yet to explore.

Scanning the rest of the perimeter to make sure nobody else was coming; he rose to his feet as he approached the splintered front door, its _'CLOSED' _sign hanging by a thread. Carefully pushing it open he rang the bell suspended above, causing him to wince and instinctively shoot his arms outward with his revolver extended. When no sounds were heard to announce anybody else's presence he stepped inside sideways, coming to a halt when he found the first signs of a struggle.

Another spent shotgun shell laid inches from a bloody footprint and a crimson handprint was smeared across a cooler filled with popsicles, ice cream bars and other frozen treats. Walking into the aisle he found a bunch of jugs of motor oil and other auto necessities shredded by gunfire, their contents having spilled onto the floor. Judging by the wetness he assumed this battle must have happened just minutes ago.

"_Then I wonder where the hell those clowns could be," _he thought as he stalked his way down the aisles with his weapon raised, finding more signs of the aftermath as he kicked away spent automatic rounds and found much of the shelves' contents torn apart, refrigerated containers blasted open and much of their cargo in the process of melting, gumball machines smashed and forcing him to kick quite a bit out of his way before he could pass through and several artificial pyramids having been toppled.

He continued moving at his slow pace until he finally found a body amidst the rubble lying face down near one of the checkout counters. It was the large figure of a man who had been well over six feet tall and had long sandy blond hair. What stood out to him most right away was the denim vest he wore with the familiar horned skull design on the back, identifying him as a member of the Road Demons biker gang Ace had belonged to.

"A Road Demon out here in the middle of nowhere?" Jake asked aloud nudging the body with his boot. Using his foot he overturned the biker's body and found what had caused his death.

An entire clip from a high-caliber handgun had been fired into the man's chest and an emptied sawed-off was a sign the man had gone down fighting.

The hitman's investigation was suddenly interrupted as he finally noticed a note that had been pinned to a bulletin board near the man's body written in red marker with an arrow pointing towards him that read _'RIGHT IDEA CAVANAUGH!'_

"Shit," Jake blurted out and again scanned the surrounding area for any signs of hostiles, but again lowered his weapon when he saw nothing and took a position behind a courtesy counter where he would have been out of view from any possible snipers.

"This is just too fucking freaky," he told himself as he stared down at the man's carcass, "I wonder if that bastard did this himself? If you can kill a man who had nothing to do with this mess, then why couldn't you just kill Birkin yourself?" the hitman asked no one in particular as he looked over to his right to find a pair of legs sticking out of the women's restroom and slowly approached.

The second corpse was of a woman who appeared to be in her mid-to-late thirties, her long red hair pulled back in a ponytail and her left arm in a crude sling. She wore dark brown slacks and a tan button up shirt, a patch on the shoulder revealing her as a member of the Douglas County Sheriff's Department. She too had been torn apart by gunfire and her emptied Beretta lay just inches away from her outstretched hand.

"_Whoever these people were, I wonder if they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why else would this creep shoot them up?" _Jake asked himself as he felt through her pockets, managing to find a spare clip. He then exited the restroom and passed the biker's corpse making his way into the adjoining diner.

There were no signs of dead bodies, but there was the aftermath of a bunch of people having left in a hurry with barstools overturned, tables covered in half-eaten meals that were already covered in mold and crusted grease, cash registers left wide open, all of this likely having happened nearly one week ago.

"_I know I'm not that far outside the city limits, but I've still gotta wonder if the virus has reached the outside world?" _Jake thought as he approached a door labeled _'EMPLOYEES ONLY' _and entered to find a man slumped over the desk, the victim of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. His blood had long since dried and the maggots still festered along his decaying flesh, another testament to several days having already passed.

"_The despair certainly appears to be there, either having survived the menace and making it back just to lose hope, or just the mere thought of being overrun," _he was thinking to himself just as a phone suddenly rang, jarring him from his thoughts.

"What the fuck?" he asked aloud as he made his way back into the diner to find a payphone near the entrance ringing, questions flooding into his mind.

Who could have been calling at this time? What were they after? Where were they calling from? Why were they calling? How did they know someone was here?

The situation was already ominous, but right now things were getting too far out there to comprehend any possible logic behind the event and they left the hitman clutching his magnum for dear life and searching for any possible threats outside the diner.

"_It doesn't appear to be booby trapped," _he thought to himself as the ringing continued nonstop, _"Jesus Fucking Christ Jake, get a goddamned grip of yourself!" _his mind scolded and forcing him towards the waiting phone.

Taking another look around the hitman took a deep breath before picking the phone up and placing it to his ear.

"Who is this?" he shouted into the receiver.

"_Why hello Mr. Cavanaugh,"_ a familiar icy voice boomed from the other end, the same mocking tone it spoke in during the first call, _"good to hear you are still among the living. I trust you completed your mission as per requested."_

The sound of the mystery man's voice alone set off alarms within the hired gun's head and his blood began to boil. A floodgate suppressing Jake's emotions had now been opened and the uncontrollable rage he had been holding back poured into his system and overtook him.

"You!" he hollered into the phone, gripping it so hard he was almost crushing it. "You fucking bastard! You fucking lied to me! You told me Birkin was still alive and I ended up wandering into the middle of a zombie infested shithole! You better give me a damned good reason why I shouldn't just track you down and cut you into tiny little strips after what you just put me through?" his voice all one hoarse roar, shaking uncontrollably as the sweat trickled down his face and the blood pumped through his system.

"_My, my Jacob," _the man on the other end spoke, pretending to sound hurt, _"is that any way to talk to someone who has taken you under their wing and granted you such a generous offer? I was just simply calling to offer my congratulations on a job well done."_

Jake panted heavily while listening to the man's voice, trying hard to contain his rage before he could do something that would injure himself. He had literally been to Hell and back only to have this 'benefactor' laugh in his face, definitely not the kind of congratulations he had expected. Then again, maybe he should have expected it judging from the arrogant way this fellow had approached him from literally out of nowhere to request his services.

"Whatever you deceptive prick, just get down to business so I can get my damned money!" the criminal shouted still unable to contain his fury.

"_Now is that how you talk to all of your employers? I knew you were a maverick by nature, but this is just too much," _the nameless man chuckled, _"Maybe I should take your reward and give it to the next hopeless schmuck I had lined up for this job."_

"Fine," Jake spoke calming down a little, but with a voice still heavily tinged in ire, "Go on and make it quick!"

"_Thank you,"_ the benefactor spoke clearing his throat, _"Now as I was saying, I was simply calling to congratulate you on a job well done. Dr. Birkin was a threat to my personal interests, yet he also possessed something of great importance."_

"You mean the G-Virus?" Jake interrupted.

"_I see you have learned from your time in Raccoon. Yes, the doctor had the virus in his possession, something of great importance to us. Unfortunately, the last sample of the virus was destroyed when the base's self-destruct sequence was activated, and yes, we were monitoring your progress while you were there."_

"Motherfucker," Jake hissed again looking off into the distance through the shattered window, "So what are you with the government or something?" he scoffed into the phone, thinking of his distaste for the current administration in general.

The man laughed slightly at his question, _"That I am afraid I cannot answer right now, but you will know who I am within due time."_

"Yeah, keep going pal," Jake cut in.

"_I figure I've kept you in the dark long enough and that now would be a good time to arrange a face to face meeting, an opportunity for me to finally meet my 'handyman' in person and give you your hard earned reward."_

"_Is this man fucking serious?" _Jake asked himself, _"He still wants to meet me in person, knowing I'm very likely to wanna blow his fucking head off after all the shit he's put me through? Knowing him, it could be a trap."_

"Alright, you've got my undivided attention," the hitman replied, deciding to play along with the charade for now, "What's your master plan?"

"_At this point in time, the community you should be closest to is Springvale. It is still more than an hour away from Raccoon City and in your weakened state, would be impossible for you to reach by foot. Luckily for you, I have arranged for some transportation that I have a feeling you may find very stylish. It should be right before your very eyes as you speak."_

Looking outside he remembered the same motorcycle he had passed as he made his way in, a Harley-Davidson similar to the kind his enthusiast uncle used to own.

"_Meet me at the Springvale Town Hall at high noon, no sooner and no later. I look forward to our meeting Mr. Cavanaugh. Oh, and one more thing, if you try to skip out on our meeting then trust me, I _will _know." _The line went dead.

"Arrogant fucking bastard," Jake muttered to himself as he threw the receiver hard against the phone. Feeling some of the rage still lingering, he saw a neatly arranged line of glass jars on the counter nearby and shoved them to the floor, shattering all of them into hundreds of little pieces.

The nearest clock told him it was already after ten in the morning, nearly causing his eyes to bulge out of his skull with the realization he had been traveling on foot for that long.

"Goddamn I must be that sore," he said to himself as he felt his stomach still growling and decided to make his way over to the employee break room to see if he could find a quick meal for himself.

Rifling through the fridge he managed to find a carton of orange juice and some lunch meat, which he assumed were probably the only things not past their expiration date.

"Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but it'll have to do for now," Jake told himself as he sat down at an empty table and set the magnum down in front of him as he began going through his quick meal. It was as he ate that another thought suddenly struck him.

"_He told me to meet him at Springvale's town hall…could that community have also been overrun by some kind of biological nightmare? Why else would he want to meet me in a public location like that?"_

The thought made the hitman sick to his stomach and he stopped halfway through the container of lunch meat, having lost his appetite.

Seeing a TV remote nearby he picked it up and aimed it towards the set suspended in the corner and flipped it on, wondering if he would get any reception for news reports of zombie attacks taking place outside the city. Unfortunately the signal was out and he was greeted by the wall of static, forcing him to switch it off after surfing unsuccessfully through a number of different channels.

"Fuck it," he muttered as he made his way out of the break room and back into the convenience store area, where he knelt down over the biker's corpse and patted the man's pockets for anything of use, finding a mostly consumed pack of cigarettes, plastic Zippo lighter and a wallet with five hundred dollars in cash but no form of identification before he found what he was looking for, a lone key attached to a skull and crossbones keychain.

"Sorry pal, but I'm going to need this more than you do right now," he said pocketing the key. Before he could place the man's wallet back into his pocket, he caught sight of a lone picture that caught his attention. It was of a clean-shaven younger man and a beautiful young brunette woman with a small brown-haired boy standing at their side and in the woman's arms she cradled a newborn baby girl. Jake studied the image closely and then looked at the facial features of the man lying before him and back to the man in the photograph. Despite the biker's face being covered in a scraggly brown beard and the long hair, he could tell that the two were one in the same, likely the deceased man in his younger years.

Knowing it must have been of great importance to the dead man; he kept the family photo in the wallet and slid it back into the pocket where he found it.

Taking another look at the man's vest he noticed the name 'Snake' stitched in red cursive lettering.

"Rest in peace, Snake. I'm sure I know who did this to you and I'm going to make the bastard pay," he spoke rising to his feet and making his way out to the waiting motorcycle, finding a folded up piece of paper taped to it.

It was a map with a route traced in bright red marker from Raccoon City to Springvale and a message written out echoing the man's words, _'HIGH NOON! NO SOONER, NO LATER!'_

"Really trying to hammer the point down," Jake remarked as he found the bike's tank was nearly empty and in need of a refill. He walked it over to a nearby gas pump and filled it up, standing around absentmindedly as he observed the open countryside around him, the only sound being the chugging of the pump.

"_I'd better enjoy the nice scenery while it lasts," _he told himself as he stared off again towards the splendid Arklay Mountains, wishing he had known about this area much sooner knowing it would have been a good vacation destination at one point.

The dull metal click of the pump indicated the cycle's tank was now full and Jake placed the nozzle back in its holder, smiling at the knowledge he wouldn't be paying for any gas as he took one last look back at the ransacked rest stop as he turned the key and revved the engine.

"Guess there's no use in keeping that son of a bitch waiting any longer," Jake said as he searched through the radio for any available stations, but was again met by static and switched it off before gunning the engine and pulling out of the lot making his way down the empty highway at full speed, the roaring engine cutting through the once soundless air and returning signs of life to the once barren fields outside Raccoon City.

"Get ready pal 'cause I'm coming."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: For those of you who have followed this story since the very beginning it is finally happening, Jake is finally going to meet his "mysterious benefactor" face to face!

Who is this mysterious fellow known to all of you as "The Man?" Tune in for the next installment of "Reborn" to find out who it is!

As always, read and review and until next time, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	47. Ch 46: Face to Face

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Well I don't have much to say for this opening note except that I'm back and that I have more to say in the ending note, so until then enjoy the latest update!

Chapter 46: Face to Face

The whole world passed by in a blur as Jake raced through the open countryside, the roar of his engine slicing through the otherwise typical silence of a rural land.

It was a moment of sheer bliss as he was freed from the torturous images that plagued his vision for over six days. Gone were the smoke-filled skies, burning buildings, car wrecks and endless puddles of blood and in their place were bright blue skies with regular white clouds, grass-covered hills and the Arklay Mountains in the distance, bountiful trees and the quaint ponds and streams.

He found it slightly peculiar that there were no forms of wildlife in sight, leading him to wonder if he had really escaped the nightmare or if he was just hallucinating and that there would be one of those demon dogs waiting to ambush him from the tall grass he was speeding past.

"_Goddamn it, Raccoon won't let me forget," _he thought to himself as he raced down the tortuous road, cursing his radio for not being able to pick up any music stations that would have surely distracted him from the ominous thoughts.

Any signs of human settlement were few and far between in the open country, the most recent being a dairy farm he passed a few miles back, yet seeing no signs of animals or people. A few small houses and log cabins had been spotted here and there, both in the open fields and hidden under the canopies of tall trees. Along the way there had also been a small bar called the Pitchfork Inn and a nearby motel called the Lazy Pond Resort, both of which had several vehicles parked outside. It was tempting to stop and see if there were actual living people inside, but then he remembered what he had found back at the Stop n' Stay.

"_It's too quiet around these parts," _he told himself, his thoughts going back to the possibility of the outbreak having spread beyond Raccoon's reaches.

"Damn it all to fucking hell," Jake muttered, his words muted by the blowing winds.

The road continued on for another mile until he came to a stop sign at a four way intersection. Even though there were no signs of traffic coming from the opposite directions, he slowed to a halt out of habit as he approached the red octagonal sign.

He took a deep breath and wiped his tired face as he looked both ways, pausing as he noticed a few things that seemed out of place in the remote parcels of land.

Much of the tall grass along the road had been trampled down and he noticed several sets of tire tracks on both sides, including areas where much of the earth had been dug up by the kind of traction he would have expected from a battle tank. There were also a few discarded sandbags that had been long ago abandoned, along with the splintered remnants of some sawhorses used for crowd control.

He then remembered the military barricades he had seen on the news report and wondered why they would suddenly abandon their post if they were sent in to contain a biological outbreak.

"Either things must be pretty bad if they're just going to up and pull out like this, or maybe things have calmed down," Jake said aloud as he again looked off in both directions, seeing no signs of anybody coming towards him.

If the military truly had pulled out, then he assumed that would mean there were no more blockades surrounding the city and in that case, he would be free to come and go as he pleased.

The hitman looked towards the open horizon and gripped the handlebars, feeling tempted to take off in either direction, racing away into freedom and far away from Raccoon City and if his gas tank allowed it, out of the state altogether.

But then his 'mysterious benefactor's' warning burned brightly in his mind.

He had warned Jake that he would know if he tried skipping out on their rendezvous and with the way he seemed to have an eye on him from wherever he hid, the hired gun believed he wasn't joking around.

"_He's gotta have eyes somewhere around here," _the hitman told himself staring off towards the mountains as he stood at the stop sign, his bike idling beneath him.

Next he wondered what kind of action the man would take. Most often he would have a hit squad sent after him, something that had happened before when he killed a made man who belonged to the Ferrante mafia family. Three different units of heavily-armed thugs had been sent after him altogether and in the end, Jake always emerged the victor.

"_Those fucking guidos always thought they had me right where they wanted me, but I always showed them. If this guy is as well connected as he sounds I wouldn't put it past him to send some kind of freaking paramilitary unit after me. I wouldn't go quietly, that's for damn sure. I'd kill whatever comes my way," _he told himself again looking down to his holster magnum.

At the same time, the more rational side of his brain was warning him not to get too overconfident as he didn't know exactly who he was dealing with.

"_You thought William Birkin was going to be some scrawny piss ant you'd be able to drop with a lone bullet to the skull and look at what you found instead," _the voice spoke, _"These would likely be well-trained, discipline soldiers you'd be dealing with, not some drunken frat boys like the kind Giuseppe Ferrante sent after you."_

"Damn it, now I'm starting to sound just like Merck," he grumbled to himself, remembering the O'Bannons' top numbers cruncher, a skittish individual who was always rambling on about Area 51, black helicopters , mind control devices, and supposed C.I.A. assassins always out to get him.

"_Whatever the case, if that bastard has backup with him I'm going to be killing a few more people today," _Jake thought as he gunned the engine and resumed his trip.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A short time would pass before Jake Cavanaugh finally spotted a large weathered brown sign with fresh-looking white letters that bore the greeting _'Welcome to Springvale: A Camper's Paradise," _along with the typical green and white aluminum road sign introducing the community and listing its population as 12,973.

"_Alright I'm close. Now to get my reward and get the hell outta this shithole forever," _he thought to himself as he slowed his motorcycle to the legally posted speed limit.

The wide open pastures were now replaced by towering oak trees on both sides of the road and in the distance he spotted what looked like a ranger's station with a dark green Ford Bronco parked outside.

"_Wonder if Ranger Rick would know anything about suspicious characters showing up in his small hick town," _the hitman wondered as he passed another sign telling him the Redlin Pines Campground was just down the dirt road to his right.

Traveling further down the road he would happen across an abandoned Oldsmobile Cutlass with no visible signs of damage parked near the entrance of the Springvale Rod and Gun Club. Something had probably happened to the engine and perhaps it had been left behind as the driver went into town to seek help, nothing to arouse serious suspicion until he spotted a few more cars not much farther away.

On the opposite side of the road was a dinged up sedan that had skidded to a halt with its driver side door still hanging open. A 1950's-era pickup truck was a few feet ahead and wrapped around one of the massive oaks, looking as if the driver swerved to avoid something and paid the price for it. Not much further away was a van riddled with bullet holes and its back doors pried open, dry blood coating the interior.

The leftovers of more carnage made the hitman's blood turn to ice as he brought the cycle to a complete halt.

"Crap, am I wandering into another fucking Raccoon?" Jake whispered as he stared at the shot up van, remembering all the bullets fired, the blood spatters and the dead bodies that accompanied them in the cursed city, making him withdraw his Beretta and scan the surrounding area for any potential threats.

There were signs a battle had taken place as he noted the pockmarks left behind by high-caliber bullets covering a few nearby trees, along with a few bearing slash marks that could have only been inflicted by a Hunter or Licker.

"_As vast as these woods are they could be anywhere by now," _Jake told himself holstering his Beretta, _"If this place is a ghost town then hopefully they've gotten as far away from here as possible."_

Pressing on the gas he resumed his venture passing the burnt out shell of a station wagon and a rusty red pickup truck with its windows shot out. Further down the road he would again come to a stop as he happened across another auto wreck where a dark blue jeep had slammed into the driver's side of a black and white S.U.V. that bore the emblem of the Douglas County Sheriff's Department.

The police vehicle had been shot up and smeared with the blood of an unseen victim, with several spent shotgun casings to suggest a fight had taken place. Despite all the blood there were no bodies to be found anywhere.

"_Almost as if they decided to order carryout this time around," _the hired gun thought as he approached the abandoned S.U.V. and looked inside to find a Remington Model 700 bolt-action rifle resting on the seat. Having no idea what could be lurking in this new community he brought his elbow up and shattered the window, grabbing the gun, which had thankfully come equipped with a shoulder strap, along with a case of .223 cartridges.

"Isn't much more, but it'll have to do for now," Jake said to himself as he mounted his motorcycle and continued forth until the endless array of trees began to gradually thin out and it was then he finally spotted some buildings and was able to gauge the magnitude of the disaster that had taken place.

A still smoking crater greeted the hired gun to his right as he approached the downtown Springvale business district, an explosion so great it had overturned a semi-truck and sent it skidding across the pavement into the nearby car wash, nearly obliterating the small narrow building whole.

It was a harrowing sight for the hitman as he drove past the blackened Stagla sign that had been drilled through the roof of a mangled concrete transport truck parked at a construction site across the street.

Ignoring the stop sign Jake took a left onto a street which he assumed had to be Blue Jay Drive according to the town map, passing a dollar store with its windows smashed and door torn from the hinges and then past a hardware store, now a reduced pile of smoking rubble with a front door barely held upright. Next to that was Aunt Lizzie's Diner, a metal building that had been blown in half by an unseen calamity. Several more storefronts and apartment buildings had been desecrated, bearing similar markings from the previous small shops and restaurants like one massive riot had just occurred.

The streets were thick with deserted cars, trashed roadblocks, overturned mailboxes, remnants of road construction and other hazards that had slightly impeded his progress, but thanks to the smaller motorcycle he was able to navigate around most of the wreckage and press forward.

Much like the site of the wrecked vehicles he had found scattered along the highway, Jake found no bodies lying anywhere despite the presence of blood. Whether it belonged to humans or the undead or even one of those manufactured monstrosities, it was still odd to come in and find no corpses laying around as proof a battle had taken place. Again it left a multitude of questions filtering into the assassin's mind as he maneuvered around a scorched mail truck and then cut through the remnants of an outdoor fruit and vegetable market, the rotting produce mimicking the smell of decay given off by the zombies.

According to the map, he should be three blocks away from the town hall. There were still many hazards littering the streets before him, but he remained on heightened alert for any possible threats lurking within the shadows as he continued through the ghost town.

Jake continued forth until he came to a four-way intersection with its stoplights still flashing, where a fire engine had plowed through a delivery truck and minivan head on into a small jewelry store. Beyond that wreck was another one where a Life-Flight chopper had crash landed on the roof of a chiropractor's clinic, its rotors having slashed away at the masonry of an adjoining office building, and next to that there was a small bar called the Chopper's Delight, a Chrysler sedan having overturned and smashed into the front of the establishment, barring entry entirely. A few motorcycles had been knocked over during the accident and were rendered useless and as usual, there were spent bullet casings littering the ground near the wreckage.

"_Damn, right now I'd welcome the idea of a zombie stumbling out of the nearest alley. All this silence and no dead bodies in sight is too fucked up even for me," _the hitman thought pressing forth down the next block, which contained a bookstore, electronics shop, Papa Tony's pizza restaurant, gun store, video arcade, and a few apartment buildings, all of which had been ransacked and left nothing that appeared to be of any use.

The next block wasn't much better, containing more shops, restaurants, apartments and even a Lutheran church that were all in worse condition, most of which had been set ablaze and now their charred facades remained. The presence of abandoned fire trucks and ambulances suggested local emergency personnel had likely tried in vain to save the buildings before whatever it was that happened claimed their lives in one fell swoop.

Just as the hitman was passing the vacant high school the chaos surrounding him would suddenly take a backseat as he spotted his destination just one block away from him and he gunned the engine with no regard for anything that could possibly leap out after him.

All he knew now was that he was within distance of the Springvale Town Hall and according to a still functioning clock on a nearby clock tower he knew he was going to make it in time.

Slowing the bike to a halt he parked it near the gated entrance ignoring the designated spaces altogether and looked around one last time before killing the engine.

Absolute silence filled the air and the following eeriness caused the hired gun to draw his magnum, hugging the nearby brick wall like he expected an ambush. Hearing nothing, he now returned his focus to his destination and crept in through the opened gates.

The town hall was a rather modest-looking two story red brick building that looked like it may have been a regular house at one point with a small courtyard in front lined with what had been several flower bushes and small trees that had lost their buds in the early autumn, along with several stone benches and fountains on both sides that no longer operated.

In the center of the courtyard was the brass statue of a tall man in period appropriate outdoorsman garb with a pack hanging over his shoulder and a rifled musket held in his hands. A bronze plaque beneath the man's boots introduced him as Daniel Kristofferson, and further engraved was the man's life story. Jake didn't have time to read it in its entirety, but he assumed this fellow was probably a frontiersman who had played an important role in the settlement of Springvale.

Slowly climbing the sullied ivory steps, the suspicious feeling never left the man's gut as he approached the massive oak front doors and seeing a nearby window, he peered through and saw an office that in spite of all the carnage outside, miraculously remained immaculate. There were no signs of life from within, yet refusing to let his guard down he slowly opened one of the doors and made his way inside.

Aside from a few papers and old books scattered across the green carpeted floor, the town hall had been left untouched by the massive war waged outside its walls. The pristine frontage did little to alleviate the hitman's paranoia as he crept through the corridor using the daylight from outside to guide him through the darkness.

"Alright, now to find this son of a bitch so I can get the hell outta here," Jake said aloud as he opened the closest door and peered inside with his magnum raised.

"_I'm much closer than you think I am," _the all too familiar icy voice suddenly called out, causing the hired gun's hairs to stand on end and he instinctively whirled around with his gun raised.

No one was there, but things would make sense as he looked up to see a loudspeaker and the security camera next to it, its red light still flashing.

"_You're getting warmer. Just make your way up to the second floor and then to the conference room at the end and you will have what is rightfully yours."_

Jake shrugged and forced himself to walk away from the camera, finding the staircase at the end of the hall and quickly climbing them before making his way down another hall and eventually finding the entrance to the conference room.

His heart was pounding and his adrenaline was pumping as he gripped the doorknob and took a few deep breaths.

"Let's get this shit over with," he whispered to himself before throwing the door open.

The conference room was easily the largest room in the entire building, a majority of its space taken up by the hard maple table in the center with enough room for twelve plush leather swivel chairs that would have at one point housed the town board. At the opposite end was an elevated stage with a podium to the side of a large projector screen, the only thing out of touch with the modern world being the ornate chandelier that hung overhead.

"Nice of you to finally join us Mr. Cavanaugh!" the same voice spoke, the voice of a man who had sent him on the literal suicide mission into Raccoon City.

"Alright cut the crap," Jake shouted back, "I came here for what is rightfully mine. Now enough with the games show yourself at once! Please!" he boomed, uttering his last word in the stressed, spiteful manner he had been driven to from all the mind games.

"Since you said please, then your wish is my command," the man replied and a figure emerged from behind the screen.

Stepping into view was a man in his late 30's who stood about six feet tall with short blond hair he wore slicked back. The fellow wore an all black suit that made him look like some form of business executive, yet he also wore an earpiece in his right ear, assuring that he probably didn't come alone. What stood out most was the pair of mirror-lens shades he wore in the dimly-lit room, like he had something to hide. In the man's right hand was a briefcase which he assumed probably held his reward.

"Allow me to formally introduce myself, I am Albert Wesker and yes Jake, I was your benefactor."

Albert Wesker! That name Jake new right away. He was the captain of the S.T.A.R.S. unit Jill and Brad belonged to who had been secretly involved with Umbrella. Now the treacherous leech stood before him with a smug grin plastered across his features.

"I must say it truly is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Please do accept my humblest apologies if your trip here was at all troublesome," he spoke in an arrogant manner that made the hitman want to put a bullet in his skull right away.

"So it was you all along?" Jake asked taking a few steps towards the man, struggling to keep his rage in check. "You're the 'generous fellow' who sent me on a fucking suicide mission all because you had a grudge with some nobody researcher!"

Wesker ignored the insult, "I wouldn't necessarily say I sent you after 'nobody researcher' Mr. Cavanaugh. William Birkin was a dangerous man who needed to be dealt with. Unfortunately because of circumstances far beyond my control, I needed an 'outside contractor' to do the job, which is where you came into play."

"Uh huh, I didn't know my reputation preceded me by that much," Jake replied sarcastically.

"I've heard much about you my friend," Wesker continued, nearly making the hitman want to vomit when he referred to him as a 'friend' of all things, "At first I thought my contact was on some drunken ramble when your name first came to my attention, but yet I gave you the benefit of the doubt long enough to see you in action before I made my final judgment. I was there while you fought for your very life and I must say your abilities were quite impressive."

"So you were in Raccoon when the shit hit the fan too?" Jake asked never removing his eyes from the man, but keeping his ears open for any sounds in the distance.

Wesker nodded shamelessly, "Yes I was there and I watched your every move from a safe distance. However, we did almost have a premature face to face encounter back at Babel Tower. It wasn't the right time to reveal myself to you, so you had to be 'restrained' per se."

Jake's mind went to a few nights back, where he remembered seeing nothing but a black glove before he was knocked unconscious by the unseen assailant and then looked towards Wesker's hands, covered in black gloves. It all made sense now and the throbbing pain in his cheek suddenly returned.

"So you're the chump who knocked me out!" Jake growled, his fists shaking as he struggled to contain his anger.

Wesker nodded again, "Yes, but only with enough force to render you unconscious. I needed you alive so I let you be. It was obvious you would wake up in pain and for that I am truly sorry. I just hope those gifts I left behind were enough compensation for my 'unnecessary' act of aggression."

"Heh whatever, not like you did much of anything for me anyway prick," Jake replied gripping his gun tighter.

"I did more for you than you think," Wesker replied tilting his head slightly downward, "and if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here right now to accept your reward for a job well done."

"Yeah right," Jake spoke wanting to roll his eyes, but keeping them locked firmly on his so-called benefactor, "Now that I'm here just give me my damn money so I can get the hell out of this place forever."

"Very well," the shady man said placing the briefcase on the table, "I am a man of my word. Here's to a satisfactory performance." He then slid the case over to the hired gun, who reached his left hand down to catch it while still keeping the magnum trained on Wesker with the other.

Taking a few steps backward towards the opposite end of the table he finally allowed himself to look away and unsnapped the latches to look down upon his prize.

Before him rested ten million dollars in cold hard cash, the most money he had ever seen outside of a bank in his entire life. It was a beautiful sight and he stopped to breathe in the sweet aroma of freshly-printed bills, truly an intoxicating fragrance. At last the money was his and he inspected the currency carefully to make sure it was real, remembering what Mr. Murphy had taught him about counterfeit dollars back at the O'Bannon's print shop, how to pick out the marks confirming what was legit and what wasn't. Running his eyes over the notes with a trained eye he was able to confirm what he held was indeed the real deal.

"_So he wasn't lying after all," _Jake thought to himself snapping the briefcase shut, _"But if this is real money, then where the hell did he get it from?"_

"Alright, I got what I wanted and you got what you wanted, so as far as I'm concerned our 'partnership' is over," Jake spoke backing towards the door, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be getting the fuck out of here before I change my mind about not blowing your fucking head off."

"Not so fast Cavanaugh," Wesker spoke raising a hand to halt the hired gun, "you and I have additional business to discuss."

"What the fuck do you want now?" Jake roared whirling around and again pointing his magnum at the mysterious individual, his brow furrowing in disgust, "I'm through taking jobs from you after the shit you've just put me through! You've got some pretty big fucking balls to be wasting my time and for that alone I oughta' put a bullet in your fucking skull!"

Wesker was not visibly affected by the enraged hitman's threat. In fact, he seemed to be rather amused, smirking in a way that made the younger man's rage boil to heights he had never even known were possible. Why he remained rooted to his spot he had no idea. By every right he should have already pounced the man and been strangling him with his bare hands until the arrogant bastard's eyes were popping out from beneath his shades.

"If you would actually take the opportunity to calm yourself, then you would be able to hear a generous proposition that would make use of your varied skills," the mystery man replied.

"And what part of 'fuck off' don't you understand?" Jake spat, "More importantly, what part of having a big fucking gun pointed in your face don't you seem to comprehend?"

"Well you haven't shot me yet, so I'm guessing you must be interested in hearing my proposal, so now I shall begin," Wesker said clearing his throat.

Jake stared at the man quietly, his mind screaming at him to pull the trigger and put the two-faced son of a bitch out of his misery, but for some reason his physical body refused to act.

"As I said before, I found it a privilege being able to view you in action back in Raccoon and I was already aware of your history beforehand. It showed me why you were in great demand and it is why I bring you this offer," Wesker spoke as his eyebrows lowered to show he was staring with greater intent beneath his mirrored shades, "Mr. Cavanaugh, I want you to work for me."

Jake couldn't believe it and if he hadn't been so enraged he would have been able to laugh in the man's face. First the smug bastard sends him into a town overrun with the living dead and now he wanted to turn such meat grinders into a full-time job.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he replied in utter disdain, "You knew that was going to happen didn't you?"

A look of annoyance crept onto Wesker's face as he replied, "Allow me to correct you on one thing Cavanaugh, you need to understand that the T-Virus outbreak was not planned. That was all Umbrella's doing. Those pitiful fools became greedy when they learned Birkin was developing a new strain, greedy enough to send in a team of trained killers and in turn, them being unable to get the job done. It is them you should be yelling at, not me."

Taking a few steps toward the hitman the former S.T.A.R.S. captain continued, "Now that we have that matter addressed, back to business. Jake, if you were to work for me full-time there would be many benefits you would be offered in exchange for your hard work.

"Being the generous people we are you would earn a hefty salary based on your performance, one that would dwarf a single payment of ten million dollars.

"Sure being a mercenary does bring its fruitful sums, but how often? You only work for sporadic periods of time and even you must have your bills to pay. You would need a steady source of income to cover all of that, much like a regular person in the 9 to 5 world. How could you be certain half the people you have worked for in the past would even have the money to award you for a job well done? Being a man of my various resources, I could give you everything they couldn't.

"Not only would I be able to provide you much in the way of cold hard cash, I realize you are a wanted fugitive and believe me, there is much to be provided in the way of protection. My company has contacts in law enforcement agencies all over the country and even the world. We can bribe whoever you want into leaving you alone. Your criminal record would also be expunged and you would be given a clean slate.

"I am also aware that there are those who have been angered by your previous actions and may be high on the thought of seeking revenge; I could have that person dealt with at the snap of my fingers."

Jake had to admit that such an offer was tempting, but he knew judging by the suited man's cocky behavior that he was just blowing smoke. This man was a snake in the grass who would have him eliminated the second he did something they didn't like.

"That's not all," Wesker continued now looking out a nearby window, "Let's just say there are some fringe benefits you could be given. I understand you are a fan of high performance sports cars, how about an entire garage filled with them? How about a nice beach house in the Pacific? Would definitely be a step up from those cockroach-infested dives you are probably forced to wallow in. Fancy clothes, fine dining, even finer wine and all the loose women you could handle…it could be all yours Jake," the operative smiled in a predatory, shark-like grin, "All you would have to do is sign on the dotted line and it could be all yours.

"So what's it going to be Cavanaugh, are you with me or not?"

Jake stood his ground staring hatefully at Wesker, unable to see past what the man had put him through. He could never bear the thought of working alongside a deceptive prick of his caliber.

"I have no time for petty games. You can go fuck yourself for all I care!" the hitman spoke straight and to the point, unafraid of the consequences that were likely to follow, "I'm a mercenary and I serve no master, you obviously didn't take that into consideration when you looked me up."

The words seemed to strike a nerve with the mysterious man and his smirk quickly became a grimace.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Wesker half-growled as his fists clenched, "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity you have been offered," the man stopped in midsentence to snap his fingers and on cue, two heavily-armored commandos stepped out from behind the screen, each of them wielding M4A1 Carbines with laser scopes, "Don't make this any harder on yourself than it has to be."

Jake remained unmoved by the presence of the futuristic-looking commandos, feeling like there wasn't much that could scare him ever again after some of the horrors he had witnessed in the necropolis, "Pfft, with the kind of chances I had in Raccoon I didn't think I'd make it half the time. With a backstabbing piece of shit like you, what makes you think my chances would be any better? I heard about what you did to the S.T.A.R.S. members and how can I be certain you wouldn't pull the same on me? My answer is still no."

Wesker was ticked off and his teeth gritted as and it was his turn to resist the urge of jumping the disrespectful punk and then ripping off his own limbs to beat him to death with them. "I thought you were different from Redfield and the others, but I guess I was wrong," he seethed before his look of rage suddenly dissipated and was replaced by a wicked smirk, "Then again, you obviously didn't take into consideration that I prepared for a scenario like this."

The mystery man reached into his pocket and produced a small controller that resembled a garage door opener, pushing a red button that made Jake's eyes widen as he anticipated a set of concealed explosives to be detonated.

Instead, the briefcase bucked repeatedly in his grasp as a chain of muffled pops came from within.

"Fuck," Jake muttered as he took his eyes away from the trio and watched as blue dye seeped through the cracks.

"Exploding dye packs," Wesker chuckled, "I thought you'd be familiar with them from your days of robbing banks. Looks like that ten million dollars you fought so hard for is now nothing more than a few worthless scraps of paper."

Everything else muted as Jake dropped the briefcase to the floor, its impact amplifying ten times as it connected. He could feel his skin turning beet red and if it were physically possible, steam would have shot out of his ears. Blood pumped through his veins with piston-like ferocity and the fire burned in his eyes. The straw had broken the camel's back and there was nothing left to contain Jake Cavanaugh's rage.

With his lightning-quick reflexes snapping into play Jake finally squeezed the trigger.

The bullet flew out of the barrel and caught Albert Wesker right between the eyes, shattering his shades and knocking him flat onto his back with a sickening crack.

Before the two bodyguards could react, Jake switched his aim towards the man closest to the bay window and squeezed the trigger twice, both bullets thumping into the man's chest and sending him falling backwards through the window, his finger squeezing the trigger as he fell to his death.

The second guard was quicker to react and fired a volley which the hitman was barely able to dodge in time, his bullets ripping through the opposite end of the wooden table and the leather swivel chair.

Jake grimaced at the roar of the offending firearm and the wooden debris raining down upon him as he crawled along the table hoping he could shoot the man's shins out from beneath him, but the chairs in the way prevented him from getting a good shot. Out of desperation he peeked out and fired a lone round blindly towards the gunman, missing him by a mile as he was forced to lower himself or risk having an arm severed just above his elbow.

Normally he would have waited for the masked man to run out of ammo, but he could tell this was truly a disciplined soldier he was dealing with as the man instead leapt into view and again opened fire, chasing after him like a lion in the midst of bringing down a wounded gazelle.

Again the hitman grunted as he was forced to fling himself out of the way to avoid the bullets with his name on them, pushing back to his feet and sidestepping in time to send another three shot burst sailing past his right ear before throwing himself onto the splintered table and shooting his arm outward, squeezing the magnum's trigger and emptying his last two rounds, both of them managing to catch his target, the first crippling the commando's right arm and the second tearing through the side of his neck.

There was no time to take a breather as the door flew open and Jake found himself met by another pair of glowing red eyes. Out of ammo with no time to reload, he roared loudly as he brought his hand up and delivered a backhanded pistol whip to the commando's face, stunning him and likely breaking a few bones in his face. With his opponent on the ropes he followed up with a knee to the man's midsection and spun him around to slam him into the nearest wall before hearing more sets of footsteps and looking up to see more rifle-toting thugs headed in his direction.

"There he is! Take the son of a bitch out!" he heard one of the men call out.

"Tell your friends I said hi," Jake whispered to the man looking down and seeing a line of M67 fragmentation grenades attached to his combat harness. Pulling the pin on one of the grenades he shoved the commando forward and whirled around on his heel taking off towards the window at the end of the hall.

"Oh shit!" he heard one of the troopers holler before a massive explosion rocked the building's foundation around him and a wall of searing heat chased after the fleeing assassin as he sprinted towards the large window, throwing his arms in front of him as he launched himself through the pane.

The desperation of his situation barely left the hitman able to register the jagged shards cutting into his exposed flesh as he connected with the window and nor did he feel the pain shooting up through his legs as he hit the ground not too far away from Daniel Kristofferson's statue. His only thought was to get to his motorcycle and get the hell out of dodge, as far away as his gas tank would allow.

"_Shit, anywhere but here is fine right now," _Jake told himself as he bolted across a courtyard that seemed much larger than what it really is, _"Anywhere but-" _he was knocked out of his train of thought by another loud crash and looked through the opened gate to find his aforementioned means of escape being knocked airborne and later crushed by a black M1114 Humvee, one which had another one of those weird commando types manning an M2HB .50 caliber heavy machine gun roof turret.

The hired gun skidded to a halt and leapt behind the frontiersman's memorial for cover as the gunner opened fire, grimacing as the heavy rounds chipped away at a stone foundation that provided him with little if any cover.

"How many of these assholes are there?" Jake asked himself, finally given an opportunity to reload his beloved magnum, yet the powerful handgun couldn't save him in a situation like this, especially when knowing he was getting low on ammo and possibly facing off against an army. With the kind of heat these men were packing he knew his Beretta wouldn't be of much help, especially when he was going up against enemies who could actually think and use guns. Trying to use his katana under these kinds of means would have been suicide and although a powerful weapon, the Remington wasn't a gun he could shoot from the hip with.

"_Come on Jake, think damn it! You've survived this far now you've gotta find a way to get your ass out of this situation," _he told himself as the bullets continued chipping at the granite foundation, no doubt one of them would soon be finding its way through his chest if he didn't move.

Without warning the front doors flew open and two more commandos appeared with rifles drawn, their glowing red eyes a harbinger of the blood and carnage to follow. He was officially boxed in and it seemed as if fate had finally caught up with the wanted fugitive. Now would have been the time for an ordinary man to sag to his knees screaming to the sky in defeat.

"_If I'm going to die then I'm damn sure going to take some of these bastards with me," _Jake told himself and with a defiant roar he made a suicidal charge forward raising the magnum and firing a salvo of six lethal rounds towards his faceless adversaries until he clicked empty.

Everything became a blur around him and the hitman was left with no time to see where his rounds connected, only noticing both men were slumping downward as he dashed past them, hopeful he had succeeded in scoring the one in a million single shot kills that would make any battle easier.

Jake was forced to bolt down the ornate corridor in search of a backdoor that would take him out of these closed quarters, away from the bullets shredding the furniture and other decorations surrounding him, farther away from the masked madmen who now wanted him dead for killing their leader.

For now Jake Cavanaugh had one objective in mind: escape.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Taking a deep breath Albert Wesker rose into a sitting position, shrugging as streaks of blood poured freely down his face before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe it all away.

"Pathetic," he grumbled as the bullet wound between his eyes miraculously mended itself and the spent .44 casing clattered to the floor below.

Frantic radio chatter and gunfire filled the air and he was able to smell the unmistakable odor of burnt flesh, smoke from a recently detonated explosive still wafting into the large room. Cavanaugh had made one hell of an exit and judging by the commotion, he hadn't gotten very far.

Rising to his feet he went to dust off his sport coat, but then noticed the fresh flecks of blood on his sleeve and looked down to see one of his bodyguards had been dropped by the same rounds from the very gun that had only succeeded in temporarily knocking him out.

The chatter of heavy artillery came from the courtyard, the noise amplified thanks to the shattered window, followed by a few more frenzied cries from his trigger happy henchmen.

Raising a hand to his right ear the supervisor realized his earpiece was no longer there and found the fragments near his shoe. At this point it wouldn't prove to be necessary.

"There he is," a voice called out and Wesker turned his attention to the entrance to see three commandos come piling into the room, all members of the Host Capture Force, his own private military attack force.

"Sir, we are in the process of hunting Cavanaugh," the lead commando spoke just as the supervisor opened his yellowish-orange reptilian-like eyes, succeeding in rattling the last man, whom he assumed must have been a rookie operative, the ones who don't believe he is actually 'something different' until they finally see it for themselves.

"_They always freak out when they see them for the very first time," _Wesker told himself as he reached into a pocket and pulled removed a leather glasses case which carried an extra pair of shades.

"Has he made it far?" the supervisor asked, sure he already knew the answer but wanting to hear it straight from the horse's mouth.

"We've got him on the run right now. He can run, but he can't hide," the commando reported, sounding like he was really wanting to leave his presence and get back out there to find the man who had already killed several of his colleagues.

"Very well," Wesker nodded to the masked men, "Secure all routes in and out of the town. I want Cavanaugh brought back to me at once."

"Yes sir!" the commando replied with a hasty salute and the three men made their way back into the hall.

The H.C.F. supervisor followed after the men, watching as they cut through the remnants of their five colleagues as gunfire rang out from below. Near the staircase leading downstairs two more troopers fired down upon the fleeing target until their colleagues passed them by, leaving them to guard the perimeter.

Wesker's attention turned to the smoking carcasses lying before him, victims of a series of grenade detonations that had ripped apart the surrounding walls and blackened the once carpeted floor beneath them.

Three men had been caught in the direct chain reaction and were blown to tiny bits as a result, a few charred severed limbs somehow escaping intact and now laying around like discarded children's toys. Two more figures were present having escaped the brunt of the blast, yet not far enough to save themselves."

Lying near the door leading to the town treasurer's office was a man whose lower torso had been shredded by the shrapnel, his left leg severed beneath the thigh and his right held together by a few string thin tendons that looked as if they would snap had a feather fallen upon them. He had bled out quickly and probably hadn't suffered much before his demise.

Across the hall was another man lying flat on his back, his vest having done little to shield him from the grenade's fragments now residing in his chest. Wesker was about to walk past him when the body suddenly gasped.

"H…hel…help…me…" the man cried out weakly, spitting up blood beneath his gasmask.

He recognized it as the voice of Lyle Burbank and watched as the man attempted to reach his hand out towards him.

Without missing a beat Wesker drew his Desert Eagle and fired a round into the young man's face, ending his suffering.

His single gunshot distracted both of the commandos standing guard, both of them now staring fearfully, taken aback by what they had just witnessed. The H.C.F. supervisor continued towards the men in a remorseless, unforgiving manner.

"He was beyond help," Wesker explained flatly, "Your colleagues will require your assistance at once. Get to it!"

"Yes sir," both men cried in unison and wasted no time chasing after their comrades.

"_It was still worth the try," _Wesker told himself as he strode down the corridor casually twirling his heavy handgun, _"He will pay for his indiscretion. Nobody crosses Albert Wesker."_

The former S.T.A.R.S. captain looked down to his gun and then brought it up, pointing it at imaginary targets in front of him. Now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he had enjoyed a good challenge.

All of the men in his private army were battle hardened veterans of various conflicts around the world, much like the U.B.C.S. operatives he had become familiarized with during his service with Umbrella. They were capable soldiers skilled in various areas of combat and non-combative endeavors. These were the kind of men that would have been ideal for waging a full-scale war with.

To Wesker, they were still far too human for his liking and he knew they would more likely want to give Cavanaugh a full magazine to the face and then call it a day, payback for him already having managed to kill six of their colleagues. Given the hitman's unique bodily makeup, it would have been ideal for him to be taken alive.

Also given his guile, he had to wonder if they knew what they were getting themselves into when tracking the man, a person who was unlike anything the supervisor himself had ever seen in battle.

"_He might seem like some random street scum to them, but Jake Cavanaugh is something special," _Wesker reminded himself as he stared back to the charred carcasses and then the shattered window at the far end of the hall. _"They would be no match for him, I know it. They would be signing their own death warrants to go after him."_

He then looked back down to his Desert Eagle and smiled, _"Then again, there is an old saying which says if you want something done right, do it yourself."_

"And that I will," he whispered, followed by a chuckle.

Author's Note: There you have it folks, Jake's 'mysterious benefactor' has finally been revealed and it's none other than Wesker himself!

I can promise you that the next chapter will be more action packed, yet at the same time I will try to make it as believable as possible since this is going to be one man against an entire army and I wanna do what I can to pull it off without making him look to 'Marty Stu-ish' in the end.

The 'Redlin' part of the Redlin Pines Campground is a reference to the artist Terry Redlin, known for his outdoor themes and wildlife. My parents were big fans of his work and we have several copies of his paintings hanging on the walls in our home.

The name for Daniel Kristofferson was inspired by both the legendary frontiersman Daniel Boone and Kris Kristofferson, who is known for playing rugged frontier-inspired characters, plus I felt Kristofferson would be a fitting name because it's Norwegian in origin and I thought of a lot of the Scandinavians who settled in my state Wisconsin and I believe they also had quite a history of settling around Minnesota too, so I felt it would be fitting.

In the original DA I had it where Jake meets Wesker in the town's high school, but I was inspired to move their meeting to the town hall after playing "Fallout: New Vegas," in which you visit the town of Nipton, which has been razed by Caesar's Legion and then you find quite a few of their mongrels running around in the town hall and that place in turn has a huge bonfire out in front of it and a few Powder Gangers crucified, so the scene inspired my decision to move the location.

Well that's it for now and I've actually said quite a bit more in this author's note than in previous ones so I guess that's a small accomplishment for me.

Oh well, read and review as always and until then SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	48. Ch 47: An Army of One

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
By Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And after yet another absence I return to you loyal readers! I've been distracted by other things in the so-called "real world" lately, plus I had more of a challenge working on this chapter, which resulted in a brief case of writer's block yet again, yet I somehow made it over the hump (heh heh heh, I said "hump") and here I am now to bring you this latest offering, so as always read and review! Now on with the story!

Chapter 47: An Army of One

With a mighty screech of rubber the M1114 Humvee came to a halt outside a concrete building with a steel red rooftop that made it stand out amongst all the ruined buildings in Springvale, even before the 'incident' had occurred. A large red, white and yellow billboard indicated they had arrived at the Loco Cola bottling factory, the text accompanied by the same opened glass bottle spilling its caffeinated contents in one continuous stream as appearing on the side of every can of the aforementioned soft drink.

One by one the four H.C.F. commandos piled out of the vehicle with their M4A1 Carbines drawn, a fifth man staying behind to man the vehicle's turret gun. With the same methodology they had learned from countless simulated combat drills the quartet plodded about with their rifles pointed in all directions, stopping to take cover behind parked cars, dumpsters, guard stations and whatever else could hide them as they worked their way towards a side door and came to a complete halt, three of them hugging the wall while the fourth man served as the lookout.

The fire team's leader cleared his throat before speaking, "Alright boys, you know the drill. We're dealing with an ice cold bastard who's already dropped eight of our boys and now it's personal. You see the son of a bitch, you know the drill," he said to his men and with those words, they nodded in unison. "The boss didn't say we had to take him alive, so whatever you do is up to you."

"Just make sure you save some for me if any of you find him before I do," the lookout spoke, "That bastard's already killed two of my buddies."

"Oh he will pay, mark my words, he will pay," the trooper standing next to the squad leader chimed in sadistically, lovingly stroking his rifle as he anticipated the upcoming kill.

"Just remember we need to leave enough of him behind to take back to Wesker," the leader said as he tapped his earpiece, "Jackal 3, are you in position?" he inquired.

_"Jackal 3 reporting, no signs of tango thus far," _the sniper called out from the other end.

"Roger that, hold position. Red 2 out," the leader replied before turning his attention to the fourth man, "Let us in."

With a nod the man slung his rifle around his shoulder and pulled a lock picking tool from his utility belt, his work finished within a matter of seconds.

"Alright, let's move," Red 2 ordered as he set foot into the silent factory, signaling for his men to split up.

The four men scattered in opposite directions, each with their rifles raised and stopping every few steps to listen for movement. They weren't far away from the town hall and knew he couldn't have gotten far.

The lock picker had created a bit of space between himself and his colleagues, patrolling along a conveyor lined with filled bottles that would never be shipped out. Towards the end of the line he stopped and switched on his flashlight attachment as he approached a darkened corner waving the light up and down.

"Come on out you son of a-Shit!" he hissed coming to a grinding halt.

He swore he could have spotted a pair of feet sticking out from behind a forklift that had been left unattended in the middle of the aisle leading to an opened semi-trailer at the end, a stack of totes still suspended from its forks.

This was the moment he had been waiting for and he struggled to keep his primordial urges in check as he hurriedly approached the forklift, ready to claim another kill. Raising his rifle to eye level and preparing to squeeze the trigger with an itchy finger he leapt around the corner…

…only to find that there was nothing but a pair of long abandoned black steel-toed work boots.

"Damn it," the commando whispered to himself, just as he heard a _'ka-shing' _coming from behind him.

With a wave of his blade, a wet _'chuk' _called out as the steel made contact with the nameless man's neck. A second later, his head separated from the rest of his body and clattered noisily to the concrete floor, followed by the loud thud of the headless body itself.

_"Not as smart as you think," _Jake Cavanaugh thought to himself as he used a cloth to wipe the blood away from the katana's surface and then scoffing quietly as he stared down into the unseeing glowing red eyes beneath him. _"I wonder where the hell Wesker recruited these toy soldiers from?" _he thought kicking the severed head out of sight like a soccer ball and then bending down and grabbing the body by its ankles and dragging it into a darkened corner. He had taken notice of the dead man's firepower and was about to salvage any ammo he could find until he heard more footsteps.

Hiding in the shadows he waited as another heavily-armored commando strode past him with his rifle raised.

_"Any visual on Cavanaugh?" _a voice called out over the man's radio.

"That's a negative, sir. Continuing full sweep pattern," the soldier replied.

_"Number two, got you in my sights," _Jake told himself as he waited for the man to get far enough away for him to step into the open and stalk after him, careful to avoid a nearby puddle as the soldier took a right turn towards an opened door, hopeful he would be able to quietly eliminate the man and find another safe place to hide his body out of plain sight.

The hitman moved as quietly as his boots would allow, stopping briefly to take cover behind a stack of ready to go crates filled with Loco Cola as the commando whirled around to make sure he wasn't being followed. Listening for the man's footsteps he stepped back out to continue tailing his prey, eventually entering an outdoor loading dock where several semis sat abandoned and everything else had been left in general disarray.

A three story building sat directly across from the plant with most of its windows blown out and its rooftop heavily blackened by the twisted metal remnants of a helicopter, which he assumed was probably the corporate office. It had dashed his chances in finding a place not touched by all the carnage that had torn through before he even got here.

None of that mattered now as he kept his eyes trained on the solitary commando. The man came to a halt at an opened trailer and switched on his flashlight attachment preparing to continue his search, yet for some reason he seemed hesitant to enter.

_"Doesn't matter, he's gonna be dead soon," _Jake smirked as he continued towards the rifle-toting trooper. He moved with a practiced grace that had left the masked man suspecting nothing, his light footsteps partially concealed by a coming breeze. _"Another head is about to roll," _he told himself as he raised the blade above his head, _"Another head is going to-"_

A very brief flash of sunlight had reflected off of glass coming from one of the third floor offices. The window was already shattered and he could only think of one alternative.

A sniper!

Jake didn't even bother to blurt out the obligatory profanity, leaping to the side just in time for a high caliber round to punch through the metal transport unit behind him.

"Shit!" the commando called out as he whirled around to find the hitman scurrying for available cover, "Contact! Cavanaugh is here! Repeat, Cavanaugh is here!" he shouted into his radio before squeezing his trigger.

Jake winced as the rifle chattered behind him and the bullets pinged off of the metal crate he hid behind. Once again he had been fucked over and it would only be a matter of time before more commandos would swarm him like ants to a picnic. Sheathing his sword he withdrew his Beretta and fired wildly around the corner at the masked operative, who fired away mercilessly until his clip ran dry and then took cover to reload.

He had to get out of there and fast pushing himself away and once again firing wildly at his assailants, squeezing his trigger three additional times before a metallic snap deflated his sudden surge.

The gradual wear and tear had finally caught up with his trusted Beretta and the slide snapped out of place, effectively catching him with his pants down at the worst of times. Grunting in frustration he tossed the broken gun aside and was forced back into the bottling plant, just in time for another commando to catch sight of him and open fire.

"Don't let him get away!" the pursuing trooper called out, firing a burst Jake would barely avoid, his bullets striking some overhead barrels and dousing the fleeing hired gun with carbonated water.

Jake instinctively threw his hands over his head to prevent himself from being blinded by the sticky liquid and raced down one of the aisles as another trooper joined in on the hunt. His heart thumped against his ribcage and his veins were ready to pop through his neck as he searched desperately for a way out, eventually taking a left turn and plowing through a door hard enough to shatter the porthole's glass as it slammed against the nearest wall.

"You can run, but you can't hide Cavanaugh, you fucking pussy!" he heard one of the soldiers shout after him.

He needed to find a place he could catch a breather, but knew it would be next to impossible given his cover was blown. He was also in dire need of more ammo given that he was facing off against an army that had been much greater than anticipated, that he would only accomplish by killing off more of those red-eyed freaks.

_"At least this has been a good workout," _Jake thought to himself as he leapt around another turn and raced down a narrow hallway lined with pictures of Loco Cola facilities located all over the country, _"I was itching to bust a few extra heads after what that bastard put me through," _he thought pushing his way through a bright red door at the end.

The hired gun had entered the building's break room, its tables littered with half-eaten lunches that had by now grown rotten after sitting out in the open for several days.

_"Guess I'll have to wait for my next meal," _he told himself as he stared at the painted cartoon character on the wall before him, a dark-skinned man with his hair jagged like lightning bolts, flashing a pearly white grin and wearing a pair of shades too large for his already oddly-shaped face, clad in a loud Hawaiian shirt and holding a glass bottle in hand, whom he instantly recognized as Louie Loco, Loco Cola's mascot.

He could hear the heavy footfalls thundering down the corridor and knew he had to find a place to hide quick.

Scanning the darkened room for any exits he eventually spotted a swinging green door behind the lunch counter and he made a beeline through it, finding himself in a kitchen and from there going through another door that led him into a large storage room lined with rows of various supplies, but no exit.

"Shit," he whispered as he heard the footsteps getting closer and prepared for his next course of action.

"Keep it sharp," Red 2 ordered as him and his remaining subordinates piled into the break room, both of his associates fanning out in opposite directions as they scanned the room for any threats. Spotting the kitchen entrance at the back of the room, he nodded towards it and the two men carefully approached, each of them taking a side as their leader approached and eased the door open with the muzzle of his rifle.

The coast appeared to be clear and he used hand signals to motion where he wanted his men to search, one moving towards a door at the far end of the kitchen and the other moving towards a storage closet to their right.

Jake Cavanaugh breathed heavily as he listened to the footsteps outside and waited impatiently to find out what would happen next. He was outnumbered and outgunned, but still burning with the desire to break some more skulls.

_"They can bet their sweet asses I'm not leaving without sending a few more of these bastards home in body bags," _he told himself as the door finally opened and a masked commando crept inside.

_"Yeah that's it, come to me you piece of shit. I'm ready to rock and roll," _Jake nodded, his fists balling up and his feet tensing, making him want to bounce up and down as the soldier methodically stalked towards him. _"My back is against the wall, but I'm not out of the game just yet."_

He listened for the man's movements, mentally counting the number of steps as the man's bulky form drew nearer. Within three steps the barrel of an M4A1 came into his sight and he pounced.

With a loud grunt the hired gun shot his foot up and kicked the rifle out of his opponent's hands and would then attempt a punch directed at the masked man's face, but his opponent would be quicker and elbow him in the side, knocking the wind out of him and then forcing him against the wall with his forearm to the dark-haired man's throat.

"You're going up against the real deal punk," the trooper spat as he attempted to choke the life out of him.

Jake said nothing as he shot his hand up and tried to push the man's head back, unable to clamp down on his jaw or gouge his eyes out due to the gasmask covering his face, struggling to keep his hand on the trooper's neck as he could feel his grip slipping away.

"You don't know…what you're up against!" he grunted as he finally managed to kick the commando in his exposed shin and shove him against a nearby filing cabinet, giving the battered hitman enough space to draw his magnum and fire a round into his opponent's thigh, eliciting a muffled scream.

The door flew open and another commando came barging into the room, but Jake was quicker and managed to fire three rounds into the man before he could even get an idea of what was going on, sending him slumping into the doorframe.

_"Scratch two down," _Jake thought to himself as he looked down to the squirming commando struggling on the floor, muttering a string of curses as he reached out weakly towards his prey with one hand while keeping the other pressed over his fresh wound, _"And it looks like number three is coming," _he added as he heard another pair of footsteps.

Reaching down he grabbed the wounded commando and wrapped his arm around the man's throat while keeping his gun raised in the other.

"Just keep your fucking mouth shut and play along like a good boy," he whispered into the trooper's ear, clamping down harder on his throat and jerking hard on his back.

"Fuck…you," the commando spat as he continued his struggle, just in time to see his squad leader come barreling in.

Jake fired another round towards the fourth oncoming commando, missing the man's head by inches and prompting him to raise his rifle.

"No…don't…" the trooper weakly begged, his plea coming out in a choked sob as the hired gun clamped down hard on his throat.

It was too late as the squad leader opened fire and his volley of armor-piercing rounds slammed into the human shield's abdomen, the repeated impacts causing the hired gun to stagger back a few steps before he flung the dying man aside.

Everything had happened in such a blur and when the squad leader finally realized what he had done he threw himself out of sight, ejecting the empty clip from his rifle.

"You piece of shit! I'm going to fucking kill you for that!" Red 2 hollered slamming a fresh clip into his carbine and peeking around the shelf to find the black-clad man had disappeared.

"You're going to have to catch me first," Jake shouted back, down to one bullet. Knowing he needed to make this shot count he would have to think of something to throw the man off, something that would cause him to lose his cool and with it, his focus.

A heavy-looking supply car t wasn't too far away from the recently deceased commando and an idea popped into the hired gun's mind as he waited for the latest barrage of automatic fire to die down.

He listened for the pissed off squad leader to run out of ammo and as he was ejecting his next clip, Jake ran over and grabbed the cart's handlebar, shoving it forward with a mighty 'oomph.'

The squad leader heard the loud rattle of the oncoming cart and stuck his barrel out, thinking the hitman could have been hiding behind it. He fired a salvo of armor-piercing rounds into the cart and with that distraction in place, Jake had enough room to leap out and fire his remaining round, striking the man in his shoulder and rendering his arm useless, forcing him to drop his rifle.

Wasting no time Jake barreled towards the lone commando and tackled him to the floor, driving his fists repeatedly into the man's face before clamping onto the sides of his head and snapping his neck with a forceful twist.

"About as skilled as a typical rent-a-cop," Jake scoffed as he scooped up the dead man's M4A1 and a few extra clips, along with his H&K MK23 sidearm and its spare ammo and six M67 fragmentation grenades. He would later loot the other corpses and find additional ammo, but decided to leave their grenades behind to avoid being over encumbered.

_"I'm gonna need to put some of this stuff to use and fast," _Jake told himself as he crept through the building. Figuring the way he entered would be covered he had to find another exit and made his way towards a door he had tried entering through, but found it locked. Finding it now ajar he threw himself for cover behind a packaging machine and listened for any movement. A nearby metal staircase led to the second floor catwalk and knowing he would need to scope his surroundings out he cautiously ascended.

A broken window looked down into a nearby parking lot and it was just outside the gate he spotted a parked Humvee similar to the one that had cut off his escape from the town hall. A lone commando manned the turret and looked off to the side unaware of his presence.

_"They all look the same to me," _Jake told himself as he set down the M4A1 and unslung his Remington. Deploying the bipod he positioned the rifle along the window's edge and slowed his breathing as he looked through the scope, _"especially when they're dead."_

Taking another deep breath, he squeezed the trigger and the bullet soared through the trooper's mask, sending his target slumping over the side.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel…for the lack of a better cliché," Jake remarked using the scope to look around for any additional threats.

He could only wonder how many of these creeps were left out there and what kind of heat they were packing in addition to what he had seen thus far. The possibilities no longer intimidated him. With every kill he made his confidence grew.

"_If these jokers think wearing a gasmask is going to scare me into submission then I'm sure as hell not pissing my pants in the end," _Jake thought as he made his way outside and darted from car to car for cover, being on the lookout for any possible threats as he made his way towards his temporary goal, the black Humvee parked away from the other vehicles.

Opening one of the doors he found a first-aid kit inside and found a can of the ever elusive and ever so precious first-aid spray waiting for him along with some hemostat pills and bandages, all items being of critical importance in a time like this.

Digging further through the back his eyes lit up like he had just struck gold as he happened across a satchel filled with blocks of C-4, likely not enough to drop entire buildings, but enough for other purposes.

"You're too kind," he sarcastically quipped to the commando's slumped carcass, the man's arms hanging over the turret's side and the blood dripping from his facial wound in a steady rhythmic pattern onto the cracked blacktop.

Jake didn't bother to shut the back door, using it as cover as he ducked behind it with his rifle at the ready scoping for any threats, wanting to make sure there were no snipers lurking around like that one bastard who had taken a shot at him not too long ago. As far as he knew the guy was still alive and could probably have moved while he was exiting the factory. Cautiously approaching the gate he made his way back to the war torn streets.

It was different and yet the same for the hitman as he traversed the treacherous streets once brimming with life and vibrancy, feeling as if he were stuck in the middle of a post-apocalyptic war movie, the only difference being the kind of enemies he fought.

"_They definitely could pass for New Order shock troopers," _he told himself, thinking of the brutal tyrant Solomon Aquinas' fanatical paramilitary force from the "Wasteland" movie, _"All they need are the futuristic laser rifles, bipedal battle tanks and enslaved Mutes and they're complete," _he thought approaching a movie theater and hugging the wall as he peeked around the corner for threats.

The hum of engines sounded in the vacant town and he even swore he could hear the flutter of helicopter blades, wondering if these guys were already calling in support or if it could have belonged to an emergency first responder team.

"_You'd think the outside world would be getting suspicious by now, especially after what happened in Raccoon," _Jake thought as he took cover behind a Camaro whose hood had been crumpled inward by a now missing body, waving his rifle's muzzle around before dashing at a diagonal angle and crouching down behind a wrecked hatchback sedan across the street. Relying solely upon his ears he could tell that the enemy vehicles were moving closer to his location and he would need to think up something fast.

He continued down the street until he happened across an open area with a Taxago gas station to his right, a Burger Kong to his left and a strip mall in front of him. The rumble of a Humvee's engine was getting closer to him and he swore he could even hear radio chatter at this point, no doubt those yahoos talking amongst themselves about want they want to do with his corpse once they take him down.

An abandoned blue BMW sedan was left at the pump closest to him, the hose still hanging from its opened gas tank and behind it was a faded gunmetal gray pickup truck belonging to 'Chilton & Sons Salvaging,' its cargo bed filled with assorted scrap metals and rusted gardening tools.

Jake then remembered the satchel slung over his shoulder which carried the blocks of C-4. Running over to the BMW he found its rear passenger side window shattered and resting on the backseat was a half-opened suitcase with articles of clothing hanging out lazily.

"_Time to give these bastards a wakeup call they'll never forget," _he told himself pulling out one of the explosives and shoving it into the suitcase and then zipping it shut.

Everything was spur of the moment in Springvale and yet another plan was being concocted with every movement he made as opposed to the careful choreography that had gone into his previous hits. On the other hand, many of his former colleagues praised his supposed ability to improvise when involved in a full out battle.

"_They call it 'improvising.' Me, I see a gun, a sharp object or anything that looks like it goes 'boom,' I make use of it, simple as that. If it gets the job done and kills the other guy, then that's all that matters to me," _he thought making his way across the street to the Burger Kong and using the butt of his rifle to smash the front door's glass surface.

Once again he was forced to 'improvise' and he wanted to make maximum usage of the environment around him.

"_It's only fitting I'd get to blow up a Burger Kong," _he thought as he stepped into the vacant fast food joint, nearly shuddering at the bright colors he was bombarded with, the red and yellow checkers enough to make even the most experienced interior designer throw up.

"_Worst fucking part-time job I ever had," _he told himself as he found a booth near the entrance and pulled out another block, _"Not only did the pay suck, it gave those damned jocks another reason to pick on me and gave my so-called 'father' another reason to call me a fuck up on a daily basis," _he thought as he fastened the explosive into place, _"Besides, I could never keep their food down to begin with. Every 'meal' always ended with a trip to the john."_

"Gonna be some poetic justice at its finest," the hired gun muttered as he exited the gaudy yellow structure, which stood out like an eyesore even amongst the surrounding aftermath.

Stepping into the middle of the street he withdrew the H&K MK23 and fired three shots into the air, knowing it would get their attention.

"I'll be waiting."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gabriel Karkian was furious and for good reason.

Another fire team under his command had been massacred, all by one man.

The man in question was Jake Cavanaugh, a hitman known to have ties to the Manhattan-based O'Bannon Mob.

For that association, the grizzled war veteran had written him off as just another street punk who was killing simply for beer money.

Only now did he realize he had severely underestimated the man, the same way he had underestimated the ragtag guerilla forces in Vietnam, believing them to be nothing but a bunch of timid farmers who wouldn't know shit about combating the best trained soldiers in the world.

Boy how he had been wrong about that and he had watched several of his squad mates lose their lives for their ignorance.

"_I told myself I would never underestimate my opponents after those days, but why would I suddenly do so now?" _he asked himself as he looked over to Jackal 3, the best sniper in his whole unit. Cavanaugh had managed to elude his crosshairs, another feat he would have assumed impossible for an 'undisciplined hooligan.'

"_Could he possibly match up against an entire army?" _the commander wondered as he moved in formation down a two lane street with his unit, all of them armed to the teeth.

To his left marched an operative of German descent who carried an RGB6 grenade launcher and next to Jackal 3 was a man carrying a prototype flamethrower similar to the ones manufactured by Umbrella, Inc., ones that were inspired by the M2A1-7, and taking point in front of him was a larger man wielding an M240 machine gun. Everybody else carried the M4A1 carbines for the most part, along with a few carrying submachine guns and shotguns.

That wasn't all, there were two Humvees escorting them through the ruins, the bulky vehicles forced to either maneuver around or plow their way through the car wrecks congesting the two lane street.

He was literally traveling with a small army, men who came from fighting forces all over the world and had actually seen combat and killed their fair share. Unlike the U.B.C.S. grunts, he wasn't traveling around with a bunch of war criminals and exiles, but men who were far more professional and twice as hardened, not the kind of hoodlums who would be likely to break from the mission to steal valuable treasures or rape some innocent woman they happened across.

"_These are damned good men I'm fighting alongside," _he reminded himself as they scanned the alleys and ransacked shops for their target, _"but still, can I allow myself to believe they would be able to drop this man as easily as they think they can? One bullet isn't going to do the trick with Cavanaugh._

"_No, we're going to have to drive the stake through his heart, cut his head off and then fill his mouth with garlic," _the commander told himself. Granted he wasn't hunting a vampire, but knew for sure he was dealing with a man who wasn't normal.

"_He carries all the characteristics of a human being, yet at the same time he's something different. None of the matters though, what does is that I'm going to hunt his ass down and kill him myself."_

Eliminating Jake Cavanaugh was a mission he needed to accomplish more than anything. It wasn't just because the hitman had managed to kill a few of his soldiers, but he also needed a means of one upping that prick Wesker, a means he could use to laugh in the bastard's face for his own arrogance.

"_You doubted your own men and look what it's gotten you," _he mentally told his supervisor before shrugging the thought away, _"Then again, I wonder if he'd listen even if I was there telling him right to his face. Fuck that, he wouldn't even hear my words; he'd just try to snap my neck like a twig. He's so worried about ruling the world he forgets about the needs of his own employees._

"_I've known the guy for years, but he's been upping the ante lately. Too bad Cavanaugh's bullet didn't kill him for real, would've done us all a whole lot of good," _he thought just as one of his men spoke up next to him.

"You see anything yet?" the machine gunner asked one of the shotgunners as he pointed his barrel through the shattered front door of a savings and loans bank.

"Nothing," the gunner grunted as he prepared to search the hardware store next door.

"He didn't get far," the grunt equipped with the flamethrower spoke up, his call sign being Blaze.

"Last I heard the barricades were in place. He's not going anywhere," Jackal 3 replied.

"He'll never be able to take all of us by himself," the machine gunner chipped in, "He's only delaying the inevitable. He might as well come out so we can end this shit."

"Yeah, hide and seek was a girl's game last I heard," one of the riflemen called out to their unseen target.

"Quiet you!" Commander Karkian snapped, raising his silenced MP5 as if he approached the elusive hired gun to leap out from the shadows gun blazing.

"_No doubt he can hear us approaching if he is nearby," _the commander thought looking towards the noisy Humvees, clearing a path for them through the once congested street.

"I hope you've all been thinking about what you're going to do once we find his sorry ass," the grenadier spoke up, Blockbuster being his codename.

"All I know is none of his limbs will still be attached when I'm through with him," the same rifleman from earlier chuckled.

"Leave me something for target practice when you're done," Jackal 3 piped up as he scanned the rooftops with his rifle.

"Getting rusty are you?" a shotgunner codenamed Roughshod butted in.

"Just you remember who you're-" the sniper was in the midst of replying as three gunshots cut through the air, forcing all of the men to snap to attention.

"That's gotta be him, move out!" Commander Karkian ordered running up behind the machine gunner. "Keep it sharp; remember we're dealing with a slippery bastard here!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake watched through the Remington's scope in anticipation as the commandos rolled into view.

Aside from the two approaching Humvees he couldn't tell how many black-clad troopers there were exactly, but knew he would have to pick his targets carefully judging by the weaponry they carried.

"_Six shots," _he told himself, referring to the number of rounds in his internal magazine. "Let's see what we've got here," he whispered to himself using the scope to pick out his targets, _"I'll have to have one especially made out for Grenade Launcher Guy," _he thought, referring to a man carrying an RGB6 grenade launcher, _"I'll also have to reserve a round for Burning Man and Big Fucking Gun Guy," _he told himself referring to another commando wearing a back-mounted flamethrower and a third guy who wielded a light machine gun, _"Can't forget the guys in the turrets either," _he mentally noted looking to the man in the first black vehicle.

He was currently positioned behind the customer service counter located at the back of the Body Worx gym, which itself was part of the strip mall in front of the Taxago gas station and Burger Kong. Most of the front windows had been shattered and he chose a firing spot where none of the workout equipment would be in his way, hoping he could use the explosives for a diversion and then ambush his pursuers with the Remington.

It would need to be a quick guerilla-style attack where he could get in, hit them hard and then get the hell out of there in one fell swoop. His back was to an opened door and he was hopeful there would be a narrow alleyway behind the building where they wouldn't be able to follow him with their well-armored Humvees.

"_Coming into position now," _he thought as the first vehicle approached the Taxago station and was slowing moving alongside the BMW. Lowering the rifle he pulled out a detonator and knelt down behind the counter.

"Here goes nothing," he whispered as his thumb depressed the trigger.

Dual explosions created a massive boom that could likely be heard for miles away, followed by a gigantic shockwave that sent Jake falling to his side as his hands remained clamped over his ears and a boiling wave of air washed over him. The shatter of glass and the clatter of workout equipment drowned out the cries of the wounded and dying outside.

It all ended as quickly as it began and when the hitman opened his eyes they nearly bulged out of their sockets as he found a hunk of burning scrap metal lying just inches away from his outstretched leg, which he knew could have severed a critical artery had it been just three inches closer.

"_No need to ponder something that didn't happen," _he told himself grabbing his rifle and rising back into his shooter's stance, squinting and blinking his eyes to adjust to the bright wall of fire enveloping where the gas station once stood, struggling further to make out the already darkened figures through the clouds of smoke.

With protective gear heavily scorched by the flames there were a few survivors staggering drunkenly about, disoriented by the twin blasts which left several of their number sprawled across the pavement with metallic fragments embedded in their lifeless forms. One of the Humvees had been flipped onto its roof and he was able to make out the crimson skid mark that had once been its gunner and nearby lay another man, disemboweled by the end of a rusted spade, writhing in agony as he reached out for anybody he believed could still help him in his sorry state.

"_Worked a whole hell of a lot better than I thought it would," _Jake thought as he took aim on the guy with the flamethrower mounted to his back, who stood conveniently next to the light machine gunner. Taking a practiced deep breath, he squeezed the trigger and his bullet penetrated the man's gas tank, creating a small explosion which swallowed up both intended targets as well as a recovering trooper who had been pushing himself up to his knees.

The commando armed with the grenade launcher looked on in confusion as his colleagues were dispatched, but before he could react he too would be cut down as the hired gun fired a round which punched through his Kevlar armor and left him joining his deceased comrades on the cracked concrete.

Within two shots pure pandemonium erupted as the now alert soldiers scrambled for cover, some of them firing their weapons wildly as they tried to pinpoint the source of the shots.

"Hold fire! Fucking hold fire goddamn it!" a gruff voice called out trying to restore some semblance of order within the chaos, but his demand had fallen on deaf ears as panicked commandos continued firing at the air around them.

One of the men standing near the ruined face of the Burger Kong was beginning to fire dangerously close to the health club's shattered windows, a barrage of his bullets eventually shredding through posters promoting healthy living habits on the wall behind the shooter. Regaining his position Jake fired a third round which tore through the masked man's collarbone.

"Fuck," he muttered, knowing he had probably given away his position, or was damn near close to it. _"Hopefully they're still too out of their minds to know that came from closer than they think," _he tried to assure himself, noting how some of the men were still firing when the smallest peeps were made. The hired gun had done his job of spreading pandemonium amongst the commandos and was ready to bolt, yet a more bloodthirsty side of him wanted to bring down a few more of the alien-looking men before making his move.

And his next target would enter his crosshairs as he spotted a soldier with a sniper rifle strapped to his back bending down to retrieve his most recent kill's grenade launcher.

"Number four," he whispered, referring to the fourth bullet he would discharge, another round that would soon tear through another one of those goons.

"Number four," Jake repeated as his itchy finger was a millisecond away from pulling the trigger, his finger burning as it pressed against the cool steel, the deep breath escaping his lungs…

The rifle would fire prematurely and his round would find its way into one of the gym's ceiling lights as a boot dug its way into his shoulder blade.

Jake cried out in pain and was knocked hard against the counter, but had the bulletproof vest there to absorb the impact. A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his neck and he was pulled to his feet, an alien-sounding exhalation giving him a clue as to who his assailant was.

One commando – no, two commandos – had somehow managed to get the drop on him, the first masked menace trying to place him in a sleeper hold as his colleague drove a knee into his stomach before bringing his fist up and backhanding him hard.

"Nowhere to run now, Cavanaugh," the first commando spat as he clamped his arm harder around his prey's throat, strangling him in the same manner as an anaconda clamping down before swallowing its meal whole.

Jake found his head snapped to the opposite side as the other brute delivered a hard uppercut beneath his jaw.

"End of the road," the second man spat before again striking him in the face, hard enough to split his bottom lip open.

Jake spat up warm blood as he struggled under the man's paralyzing grip, thrashing violently and trying to move his legs around, only to have his assailant tug even harder as the second man kicked him in the gut.

"_Not like this," _his mind screamed as he ate another left-handed jab, _"I'm not going to be done in by some rejects like these bastards. C'mon Jake, you've fought worse on your own and you'll fight to your last breath. Where is that same fire you had back in Raccoon? Where the fuck is it? You need it now more than ever!"_

With a mighty grunt the lone gunman shot himself backwards, sending his aggressor hard against the wall and weakening his grip. Undeterred by the coppery substance spilling down his stubbly chin, Jake shot his leg out and caught his second attacker in the stomach to send the man stumbling back a few steps before bringing the same foot down into the first thug's shin.

At last he was free and he drove his elbow backward into his first attacker's covered face to stun him before gathering the strength to flip him over his shoulder.

"_Damn right, that's the Jake Cavanaugh I know," _his mind spoke, _"the kind of Jake Cavanaugh who eats nails and asks for seconds."_

The second commando attempted to execute a hard right cross, but found it blocked by the black-clad hitman's forearm, followed by a boot being driven into his kneecap and a roundhouse kick to the face, sending the man tumbling backward and bouncing his helmeted head off the metal wall-mounted first aid kit.

With his opponent at his mercy Jake was about to dive in for the kill when he heard the tearing of fabric and a wet slash, followed by a sharp pain in his side.

He looked down to find the first commando had recovered with a combat knife in hand covered in fresh blood, _his _blood.

Springing to his feet the masked man again lunged toward him, slicing into Jake's forearm as he attempted to leap backward and then swinging around to catch him with another cut to his upper arm before delivering a snap kick that sent the hitman tumbling to the floor.

Jake gasped as he hit the tile floor, blood from his fresh wounds splattering around him as he connected. There was no time for the hired gun to try stopping the bleeding as his adversary hovered over him with his knife pointed downward, the man's gasmask amplifying the breaths he sucked in as he stared down upon him with those red alien eyes. No words came from the faceless assailant as his colleague now rose to his feet, producing a blade of his own.

"Heh, you're supposed to be some ultra badass commandos and yet you can't even fight an unarmed man by yourselves?" the hitman taunted, ever defiant until the end, even as the blood poured freely from him.

Neither commando said a word as they both raised their knives above their heads.

Reaching into his pocket Jake produced another detonator and depressed the button, causing both men to stop dead in their tracks.

"Oh shit!" one of them cried out and leapt out of the room, expecting another chain reaction of explosions to follow.

"Suckers," Jake whispered to himself as he tossed the detonator aside and reached for the H&K MK23, firing three rounds into the first trooper's chest as he recovered, sending him stumbling backwards onto a workout bench. The man hit the bench with such force he shook the support beams at his side, hard enough for a barbell carrying four hundred pounds to slip out of place and fall onto him, crushing his throat.

"_I'm surprised these losers even made it past a recruiter," _the hitman thought as he forced himself back to his feet, the sticky blood somewhat hampering his movements as he reached for his gun and made his way back into the gym's main room, where the remaining commando swung his knife at his chest, his blow absorbed by Jake's Kevlar vest. The man attempted to hit him again, but the hired gun had been quicker and caught his arm, bringing his elbow down to break it.

"Time to say goodnight-" Jake was in the middle of taunting just as he heard a loud _'bloop' _noise coming from outside and then looked down to find a grenade landing at his feet.

There was no time to utter any kind of profanity and the hitman yanked his victim away by his broken arm before they could be caught in the blast radius.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a supreme effort, a groggy Gabriel Karkian was able to roll onto his side and reach for his silenced MP5, only to find a warped piece of metal in its place.

He muttered an expletive which was drowned out by a dull ringing, which in fact droned out any other activity, yet he could feel the vibration of human movement around him.

Blackness was all he could see and for a moment he thought he had gone blind. The smell said otherwise, perhaps he had died and gone to Hell, the panicked screams seeming to indicate the latter, the cries of his men.

His entire body throbbed from head to toe and his arm felt like it was about to fall out of its socket as it touched the pavement. In spite of the pain, he felt as if he had to carry on and gritted his teeth as he began to pull himself along until his hand grasped something hard and when the smoke cleared he found himself grabbing one of his own men, fragments of rusted shrapnel having punched through his Kevlar vest.

The smoke began to dissipate and the grizzled veteran looked up to see one of his men staggering about in a disoriented state, his armor charred and his carbine rifle warped by the extreme heat. He wanted to call out, but his vocal cords were clamped down upon by an unseen force.

"_You got too careless Gabriel," _a voice within scolded him as he looked down to a burnt glove that had barely managed to protect him from the walls of fire when everything went white.

"Shut up," the commander managed to spit out, globs of saliva filling his mask as he hacked violently. _"I'm still alive to command my men and even if only one of them survives I'm still going to do my job no matter what."_

He needed to get back to his feet. Not only was it critical in helping him to lead his men, he needed to show them as a sign of strength. They wouldn't believe in him if he crawled on the ground as a mangled heap.

Reaching his hand outward he grabbed onto a metal bar and with a labored heave pulled himself to his knees and with a strangled roar finally got to his feet and realized what he had just used for support.

One of the Humvees had been overturned and beneath it was a trail of deep red, all that had to be left of the gunner Vulcan 1.

"Son of a bitch," the commander spoke in a garbled timbre as he looked down to the crimson skid mark again and then to the Humvee that had swerved to a halt behind it, its gunner's body blown backward in an awkward position that had likely snapped the man's spinal cord, what looked to be a tine from a pitchfork plunged through his mask. The rest of the vehicle's crew piled out one by one, all of them either holding their heads or their arms as they braced themselves against the combat vehicle.

More battered commandos soon began staggering into view from the wreckage and it was then Karkian was finally able to spot the blazing remnants of what had been the Taxago gas station and across from it a Burger Kong, along with several surrounding buildings having suffered superficial damage following twin blasts which had almost reminded him of mortar fire.

"_No, that couldn't have been a mortar being fired…not here of all places…" _he reminded himself, noting he hadn't heard the whistle of an incoming missile, _"That damned bastard must've gotten his hands on some explosives. No doubt he looted it from one of my men, the son of a bitch," _he thought looking over to one of his fallen men, who lay near death after being disemboweled by the corroded end of an ancient shovel.

A solitary gunshot snapped the commander from his thoughts and he looked up just in time to see the pack connected to Blaze's flamethrower explode, engulfing the flamethrower specialist along with the machine gunner and another man who had just been pushing himself back to his knees.

A second shot rang out in succession before anybody else could make sense of what was going on and then Blockbuster fell to the tarmac with a hole punched through his sternum.

It was that second shot which finally provided the spark needed to ignite the wildfire and all hell would break loose as the panicked troopers began scrambling for cover, shouting commands hurriedly to one another and firing their weapons in all directions not knowing where their assailant had set up.

"Damn it," Commander Karkian swore to himself knowing they were playing into the man's trap.

"Hold fire! Fucking hold fire goddamn it!" he demanded, but may as well have been calling out to a room full of deaf people as his men continued firing away just as he watched another man fall to the ground with a bullet having torn through his collarbone, right in front of the Body Worx fitness center.

"_That's it," _the grizzled veteran told himself as he took cover behind the burnt husk of a minivan. He had finally pinpointed the location of the shooter, but knew his men were too far gone by this point meaning it would be up to him to get the job done.

Looking over to Blockbuster's sprawled out corpse he saw the RGB6 lying on top of him and he made a mad dash to scoop it up, grunting with exertion as the fiery pain returned to his arms and lower back and he was forced to scoop it under his arm as he dove for cover back behind the minivan.

Karkian inspected the grenade launcher to make sure it was loaded. Not having time to search his fallen subordinate for any more shells, he was going to have to make due with the fragmentation rounds and peered into the health club, swearing he could see a shadowy figure darting back and forth figuring it had to be his man.

Stepping out from behind the charred van he knelt down and fired a round into the club, watching intently as the explosive shell detonated and blew out the rest of the windows. It took that explosion to finally settle the ruckus and all the commandos stared uneasily forward.

"Come on! We've gotta make sure he's dead," the commander shouted grabbing Roughshod by the shoulder and dragging him along as he motioned for three more men to follow him while the others remained put.

The quintet of heavily-armed troopers made their way through the blown out front entrance and stepped around the blackened remnants of workout equipment as they searched for any signs of the intended target, eventually finding a few charred body parts and the splintered remains of an assault rifle.

"Wait, look!" Roughshod called out pointing to a smeared red hand print on a nearby wall and some bloody boot prints below. "He couldn't have gotten far," he remarked following the trail through a nearby doorway.

Karkian followed from a safe distance and motioned for the others to stay back as he stepped into the hall, finding the trail led to one of his men, who lay slumped against the wall with a combat knife plunged into his throat.

"Son of a bitch," the shotgunner called out kneeling before his fallen comrade and looking down to the floor briefly, perhaps muttering a silent prayer before he reached out to forage through the dead man's pockets and inadvertently knocked his body over…only to find a block of C-4 hidden beneath!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A muffled explosion came from within as Jake depressed the trigger.

"_Heh, a lot different when it's actually rigged," _the hitman mentally quipped as he tossed the now worthless detonator aside. _"Should at least have taken a few more of those bastards out," _he told himself before popping a few hemostat pills and reaching for a can of first-aid spray.

"_I'm still up and moving, so that bastard must not have gotten anything too important," _Jake thought as he sprayed the wound on his side, clamping his eyes shut and his teeth together. Not waiting for the stinging to subside he quickly dealt with the slashes on his forearm and shoulder. A cacophony of shouts from inside told him he wouldn't have the time to bandage his wounds, but he was hopeful they would have clotted already and he proceeded down the back alley with his M4A1 raised, his only other thought being to escape the town.

"_According to the map, I shouldn't be too far away from the train yard. Hopefully I can follow the tracks to somewhere not populated by zombies or trigger happy psychos, then again that's probably asking for too much," _the hired gun thought as the health club's backdoor burst open behind him and a commando leapt into view.

Jake raised his carbine and fired a volley into the trooper's chest, sending him spiraling backward just as one of his colleagues stepped into view and he fired another burst, managing to wound the man before taking cover behind a dumpster.

"I'm not fucking playing around this time," he whispered unclipping one of the grenades and pulling the pin, chucking it behind him before bolting.

The explosion had done little to deter his pursuers as he quickly heard boots clomping on the pavement seconds after the grenade went off and he looked over his shoulder to see two more commandos chasing after him, one of them carrying a grenade launcher.

Jake turned in time to see he was about to collide with a silver sedan and he caught himself, sliding across the hood and raising his carbine to fire another salvo, taking both men down.

Much like the zombies he had done battle with, it seemed for every one of these commandos he took down there were always two on hand to take its place as he could hear the sounds of more boots pounding against the pavement.

"That's my cue," he whispered to himself as he disappeared into a nearby alleyway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For the second time this day, and the second time in only a matter of mere minutes, Gabriel Karkian had been knocked from his feet, a stifled grunt eking out from behind gritted teeth as he felt warm blood pouring beneath his torn sleeve.

That bastard had managed to get a clean hit on him and he looked down to see the ragged hole and the small tendrils of smoke arising. He could still wiggle his fingers so he assumed it had to be a through and through. Using his good arm he pushed himself into a sitting position, looking down to see his last man hadn't been as lucky with four rounds having torn through his chest.

"Commander!" he heard a voice call out and listened to the multiple pairs of boots coming up behind him.

"Don't worry, I'm alright!" he snapped and began to stubbornly push himself back to his feet, "Just get the son of a bitch. He went that way!" he said pointing with his good arm before bringing it back to clamp it down over his fresh wound.

It wasn't really necessary though. The grizzled veteran barely ever registered pain when he was enraged and by now his anger was boiling to levels he had never before thought possible.

"You won't get away that easily," he whispered as he watched his men chase after the lone fugitive. _"I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth if I have to. Nobody has ever escaped," _he reassured himself as a medic came up to treat his bullet wound.

Raising his good hand to his earpiece he spoke, "Warhawk get ready, we've got a very troublesome rodent who needs to be dealt with."

"_Affirmative sir."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake fired until the rest of his clip had run dry, having managed to drop another one of those futuristic-looking soldiers in a hail of gunfire.

He was running on an adrenaline high that kept him going in his sorry state, somehow having managed to survive a battle unlike any other he had ever partaken in.

"_And I hope this high doesn't end anytime soon," _he thought while slamming a fresh clip into his rifle and pulling back the bolt while bullets pelted the brick walls around him.

It was just him alone, an army of one against a force of who knows how many, similar to how it had been with the ancient Battle of Thermopylae he had read about years ago, where 300 Spartans bravely met their last stand against a force of Persians dwarfing their numbers by several hundred thousand. Much like them, the lone hitman knew he could very well have been staring Death in the face, but he also knew that wouldn't stop him from fighting until his last breath.

"_Death will have to wait just a little longer," _he told himself as he leapt over a toppled trashcan.

He continued out of the alley and found himself bolting through the car park of a taxi depot, bobbing and weaving around a few of the aforementioned yellow and black cabs that had been parked at awkward angles before cutting through another narrow alley and forcibly reentering one of the main streets and taking a left turn.

Jake continued his frantic run down the street at speeds that could have won him any gold medal, only slowed as he was forced to his hands and knees to crawl beneath a jackknifed semi-trailer. Once he was back to two feet the pace resumed and he charged down the war torn street like a black bolt of lightning, ignoring the flashing red light overhead that would have brought cars to a halt under normal circumstances.

"_Come on, I shouldn't be too far away," _he reminded himself as he attempted to mentally process the image of the town map in his head while blinking away the bloody sweat cascading down his face. He knew the train yard couldn't be too far away, yet the buildings surrounding him were tall enough to block out his view of the possible escape route.

"_Escape," _a word which echoed in his mind above all else, a word which made him snap to attention in the real world.

It was then Jake Cavanaugh suddenly realized how quiet things had become and he looked over his shoulder to see the murderous black-clad commandos had disappeared from sight. The only sounds now were those of his own heavy breaths and his feet pounding the pavement.

"The fuck?" he asked himself, his words coming out in a ragged gasp as he dared to slow himself down and took cover behind the front half of a utility truck that had been torn in half.

He scanned all the possible openings: the alleys, the shops, the blackened ruins, anywhere those bastards could leap out from waiting to put a bullet in him and call it a day.

Yet he saw nothing. They had just vanished.

"_Don't fucking kid yourself Cavanaugh. These guys had the training of fucking pros. It's not like they're just going to give up because they can't catch one man. Damn it, they must have some other trick up their sleeve and there's no telling what it could be," _Jake thought as he brought his wrist up to wipe away a pinkish rivulet along his left eye before drying it on a small patch of his opposite sleeve that up until then had been untouched by gore.

The rifle was held firmly in his hands as he tried making himself as small as possible against the truck's wreckage, peeking around a corner and listening for any sounds, yet still hearing nothing.

Silence was one of the worst things to have in an urban warzone like this. It meant your enemies were gathering around, lulling their hapless target into a false sense of security and waiting for him to step out and then pop him when least expected. Even a nuclear bomb being detonated would have been a welcome occurrence as it would have provided some form of noise, letting him know he still had to be on alert.

The hitman then looked ahead for any signs of danger, scanning the burnt out shell of a nearby apartment complex and then the shattered windows of an office building, areas where snipers would have had higher ground perches. He definitely couldn't afford to take chances after that incident back at the Loco Cola plant.

"Come on. Where are you bastards?" Jake asked feeling his chest rise and fall.

As if to answer his question, the flutter of helicopter blades filled his ears, something he had noted from earlier.

He listened in quiet anticipation as the unseen chopper moved closer, wondering if authorities from outside the community had finally come to find out what the hell's going on or if somebody had called in the military to investigate.

Jake lowered the rifle and waited until the din became loud enough for him to wince and watched as the form of an AH-64D Apache Longbow flew into sight, its body a jet black matching the same shade as the Humvees owned by those commandos. There were no visible markings, meaning the owner wouldn't have wanted it traced back to them, a sign that couldn't be good.

Nor was it a good thing when he heard the whirr of miniguns warming up.

"_So much for the cavalry…"_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Author's Note: Like I said above, this chapter was a bit more of a challenge for me to write because this time around I had Jake doing battle with human adversaries who were trained for combat and thus could actually think and strategize for ways of dealing with him, also not to forget that they were actually able to use firearms and explosives!

Granted, I do have our beloved hitman skirmish with some human opponents in the "Human Chess" chapter, but they were a bunch of poorly disciplined and poorly trained hooligans who were also poorly armed for dealing with him anyway, and granted he also does mix it up with Chief Irons in the "Hunters and Hunted" chapter, who is both a trained police officer and skilled hunter, but is also a fat bastard whom he could easily run circles around, but these commandos are a whole different animal, hence I would need to be a little more creative in the ways which Jake deals with them, besides it would also get boring pretty fast if I just had him running around shooting those guys and that was it.

I had to watch quite a few of the squad battles from "Deadliest Warrior" for inspiration with some of the battle scenes shown in this chapter and the idea for me to give codenames to Karkian's subordinates was inspired by the forthcoming "Operation: Raccoon City."

"Wasteland" is also intended to be a spoof of the "Fallout" series as the way I envision the H.C.F. commandos reminds me of the N.C.R. Veteran Rangers from "New Vegas."

Well alright I believe that's all I have for my latest rant so until then read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	49. Ch 48: Captured

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: No you are not hallucinating…after a three month plus hiatus I have returned!

I apologize for the delay, but I was really struggling with how to plan this chapter out. As I may have pointed out in the last chapter, I was trying to figure out how I would have Jake fighting against a bunch of human adversaries without making him seem like a 'Mary Sue' (or 'Marty Stu' because he's a guy) and I knew I couldn't just have him plowing through these guys like they were nothing like you can do with a horde of zombies (depending upon the situation of course), especially seeing as how they're all supposed to be trained killers.

I was really pushing myself hard to the point I was beginning to experience a creative burnout, plus I had ideas for other fics floating around in my head and not being able to work on them was starting to drive me crazy as well, so therefore I was forced to put this fic on hiatus. It was hard for me to just jump back in where I left off, but I know I'm not planning on giving this up with as far as I've come, especially now that I've been able to sit down and roughly map things out for what will be happening after this chapter.

Well alright, I suppose I had better get this up and running before you start beating on my front door with the torches and pitchforks so on with the story!

Chapter 48: Captured

The room quaked all around him and Jake brought his arms up to shield his head as large chunks of concrete and steel girders fell from above, followed by a wave of unbearable heat as the building was struck by a cluster of missiles.

A muttered string of curses escaped the hitman's lips as he scampered on his hands and knees, flinching as the chopper's miniguns roared above him, high-powered bullets tearing through machinery and metal containers, reducing everything to scrap. The execrations gave way to ragged coughs as walls of dust kicked into the air and nearly blinding him as he tried to find a good hiding spot. Jake had barely managed to find cover from the treacherous open streets and now he was in danger of being buried alive as the copter's guns followed up the missile strike, everything crumbling like a sand castle.

"Smooth move Jake," he scolded himself as he rolled for cover into a narrow hallway, gagging as plumes of smoke entered his lungs. _"Not a good place to go," _he thought keeping low to the floor, crawling on his stomach towards a nearby fire door. His muscles tensed as he listened to the flutter of mechanical blades overhead, knowing the second he set foot outside he could possibly be in the gunner's sights.

_"Not gonna be able to bring it down with these kinds of weapons," _the hired gun told himself, wishing he still had the rocket launcher he used to take down Birkin, or even the sniper rifle he had not too long ago, _"Goddamned spooks," _he told himself, reminded of how he had forgotten to pick it up after he was assaulted by those two grunts back at the health club.

Jake reached the fire door and rose to his feet to push it open, taking cover behind a dumpster as soon as he stepped into the alley. He was enveloped by the chopper's shadow as it flew overhead, yet it passed by without incident, chances being that he wasn't spotted.

_"Might not be so lucky the next time," _he told himself as he noticed the back door of the building next to him and he pulled on the handle, sighing in relief that it was open, and stepped inside knowing he would have to keep himself off the streets for as long as he could if he wanted a chance at making it out alive.

Quietly closing the door behind him the hired gun whirled around with his rifle raised for any threats, but all appeared quiet.

"For once," he whispered as he looked down and noticed the wounds inflicted by that knife wielding commando, all three of them having opened and leaking blood onto the white tiled floor. _"Hope I have enough time to treat them," _he thought, remembering the medical supplies he grabbed from the Humvee.

To his left was the entrance to an employee break room and Jake made his way inside, closing the door behind him and resting the rifle on a nearby table as he pulled out the can of first-aid spray, roll of bandages and hemostat pills.

With no time to remove his bulletproof vest he would be forced to work around it and lifted his shirt to spray the wound before wrapping the bandage around his waist. He then worked on his arm and carefully treated the opened slashes before wrapping more bandaging around them and then ingested some of the red and white pills, finding some bottled water in the refrigerator to wash them down.

"Finally," he muttered, letting the precious cool liquid coat his parched throat and travel throughout his system.

It had been a rare, albeit tense moment of respite as Jake stood alone in the break room, listening for any sort of movement, yet he heard nothing. By now everybody was likely involved in the search for the elusive hired gun and as a result there were probably a few places left unguarded. If only he knew where these places were then he could rest up and hopefully find other amenities without having to look over his should ever millisecond.

_"Gonna be a chore trying to find someplace safe," _he thought looking around the small room, wondering how it must have been before things went to shit, picturing the workers who once sat at the tables swapping stories of their daily routines, sharing dirty jokes, or most likely bitching about their spouses treating them like crap. It was the kind of normal people took for granted, the kind that was right under their noses and many never taking the time to notice it.

There was no need to sit and ponder over something that would never be and Jake scooped up the rifle, cautiously making his way back into the hall and still listening for any threats before he came to the door at the end and nudged it open, only to be bowled over as he was assailed by an all too familiar smell that had been amplified by one million.

It was the smell of decay, a bothersome odor that took him back to the streets of Raccoon City and his numerous battles in close quarters with the walking dead.

_"Are they here too?" _he mentally asked clamping a hand over his nose to block out the vile stench. If so, he asked himself how many there could be crammed into one building, and knowing the tendency of zombies to wander, why the hell would they stay in one place for so long?

There was only one way to find out. Jake slipped into the room expecting to see a massive zombie feast and was preparing to shoot his way through the carnage, but he was met by more silence as he wandered into a garage filled with orange dump trucks belonging to the Douglas County Highway Department…

…and they were filled from top to bottom with rotting corpses!

_"Looks like I was partially right," _he thought as he stood on guard waiting for the bodies to rise up and attack.

It must have been five seconds he waited, but there was not a peep to come from the undisturbed piles of death. For once in a lifetime he was lucky and he cautiously approached a pile near one of the garage doors, his eyes beginning to water from the full frontal assault, yet feeling drawn to the macabre attraction like a moth to a flame.

"So this is what happened to the citizens of Springvale," he whispered as he observed what lay before him. People of both genders and all ages, sizes and ethnicities laid atop one another, killed in various manners and positioned in countless poses depicting a gruesome fate shared by all.

Situated at the front of the pile was a middle-aged man whose short dark hair had been graying at the temples who had caught Jake's attention. He was clad in a navy blue combat vest, dark green cargo pants and a white t-shirt underneath with a patch revealing him as a member of the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. unit.

"Members of S.T.A.R.S. here in Springvale?" Jake asked aloud as he inspected the fallen man, whose nametag read _'Kenner.' _Ragged holes in the man's chest revealed his fate, no doubt perpetrated by the very goons chasing after him.

Not much further away was the corpse of an African-American male in a forest green combat vest, tan cargo pants, a black undershirt, black combat boots and an empty knife holster wrapped around his shoulder. This man's nametag read _'Chapel' _and two-thirds of his head had been obliterated by a point blank shotgun blast. A large mark on the man's upper arm showed he had been bitten, perhaps killed while in the process of turning as his skin hadn't yet taken on the sickly ashen pallor of the other zombies.

Also in the pile was a man wearing the denim vest that had been the trademark of the Road Demons biker gang Ace and Snake belonged to. This man had been a tall, powerfully-built warrior much like his aforementioned brothers with a bushy mustache and long brown hair covered by a black bandana with the design of a skull in front of two crossed wrenches and a plume of yellow and reddish-orange flames. His stenciled name revealed him as _'Fixer' _and a large gash in his stomach leaked out his drying intestines.

As it had been throughout this ordeal, there was no time to mourn the loss of people he had never known and he had to find a way out of the makeshift mausoleum, finding a back door that took him to a metal fence lined with barb wire running along the top. To his left he noticed an opened gate with another Humvee parked before it and he quietly approached.

"Damn it, I tell you I sure as hell didn't sign up for this shit," complained a voice from within the compound, "I'm a commando, not a fucking undertaker."

"Yeah, we should be out there hunting down that Cavanaugh schmuck," a reply came.

"Well if you two don't stop standing around like a couple whiny bitches then we'll never get out of here to begin with," a third commando spoke up.

Jake peeked around the corner to find another dump truck parked in the center of a junkyard and more of those commandos hefting corpses into one large pile while four more stood around with flame throwers. A circle of ash surrounding the mound of decay was a telltale sign this wasn't the first group to be dealt with.

"_So that's it. This is all one large crematorium," _he told himself as he watched one of the masked men toss a deceased child onto the soon-to-be funeral pyre.

The sight made the hitman's blood boil and he slid his finger into the trigger guard, but his logical side warned him he was heavily outgunned as there turned out to be more thugs than he expected, still dragging more corpses out from another nearby building.

He knew he had to focus on making it out alive or risk joining those unfortunate souls as he crept around the bulky vehicle and bolted for cover behind an empty dump truck and then an overturned school bus before rushing between two rows of storage lockers before ducking inside another building, hearing the flutter of helicopter blades drawing closer.

The metal door slammed shut behind Jake and he gripped for his rifle. _"Rookie mistake," _he mentally scolded himself as he whirled around with the M4A1 raised, only to sigh in relief as he found the room he entered empty, but then the tension returned as he looked to the catwalk and saw an open corridor where it was possible somebody could have heard him and he took cover behind a generator.

It looked as if he had entered some kind of boiler room, especially judging by the sudden wave of heat washing over him, lined with several tanks and generators. He carefully crept around the dimly-lit space, knowing the clatter of machinery could disguise the footsteps of one of those red-eyed bastards trying to sneak up on him. There were plenty of shadows and he kept himself beneath the catwalk, hugging the wall until he reached the staircase and slowly ascended.

And then a shotgun blast rang out, followed by the staccato rattle of automatic fire.

"Got the slimy bastard!" a triumphant voice called out as Jake crouched down and walked towards the opening at the end. Taking cover behind a stack of metal crates he looked downward to see three H.C.F. commandos standing over the fresh carcass of a short man with fiery red hair wearing the denim vest of the Road Demons, a sawed-off shotgun lying inches from his outstretched hands.

"One shot, at least this punk put up more of a fight than the other sissies around here. Still not enough of a challenge," the closest commando spat.

"Yeah, yeah worry about that later. Get this chump to the junkyard. We need to worry about finding that Cavanaugh punk," another trooper spoke motioning with his rifle towards the nearest exit.

"I'll save you boys the legwork," Jake whispered as he took aim and waited for two of the men to bend down and grab the deceased biker, one of them grabbing him by the ankles and the other under the arms, before squeezing the trigger and knocking the closest trooper down with a round through the neck. In rapid succession he switched his aim and took down the other guy with an armor-piercing round through the heart before he could react.

"Contact!" the third soldier called out firing a barrage in the hitman's direction, his rounds pinging off the railing and metal catwalk.

Jake returned fire, but the soldier moved out of the way and his bullets pounded against the concrete floor. Another commando armed with an assault shotgun would barge into the room firing a blast which shredded away at the wall behind the hired gun, forcing him back behind the metal crates.

"Is this the challenge you were looking for?" the assassin called back as he fired another salvo towards the two men and bolted towards the stairwell leading to the lower level. He ran down the first few steps until there were only three left and then he leapt into the air and rolled for cover behind another generator, sparks flying as the panel was riddled with bullets.

Jake peeked around the corner and caught the shotgun-wielding trooper in his sights, spotting a steam valve nearby. Deciding to give the man a surprise he squeezed the trigger and his armor-piercing round soared towards the pipe, spraying the black-clad man with a face full of steam and leaving him open to receive a fatal barrage to the chest.

"One to go," he whispered as he looked along the nearest wall to see the remaining soldier's shadow getting closer, "Come to me."

He waited until the rifle's barrel came into sight and brought his elbow down, knocking the gun from the man's hand and then brought his boot up to knock the trooper against the wall before firing a three shot burst into his chest.

Salvaging whatever ammo he could from the four deceased commandos, Jake made his way to the nearby exit and found himself in the very train yard he had been looking for.

With his latest objective met he began looking around for any possible way out while remaining on guard for any more troopers. He could hear the flutter of the Apache's blades and kept himself hidden beneath the awning as its shadow passed him by.

"Now or nothing," he whispered as he got next to one of the parked trains and crept along the gravel surface, moving slowly to minimize the sounds of pebbles crunching beneath his boots as he listened for any nearby threats. When he reached the end of the locomotive he bolted over to the train on the opposite track.

"_Hopefully there's a map somewhere around here," _he told himself, reminded he would need a new one after leaving the last on that motorcycle he 'borrowed' from Snake. _"After this train yard I don't know what's up. Gotta be sure I wouldn't be following the track to another dump like this."_

Once again Jake had to be reminded he was asking for too much.

The T-Virus had already made its way to another community and whittled its populace down to nothing, and probably in faster time than when Raccoon fell. Granted this outbreak appeared to have been contained, yet there would only be so many soldiers for one cleanup operation, not to mention it didn't help matters much when they were gunning for the uninfected as well.

Remembering those mounds of cadavers back in the garage and junkyard also made him wonder. Had the virus spread further? Were zombies already taking over the planet as he battled for his life in some remote mountain community? Had the heads of the Armed Forces thought up some form of countermeasure? Did the others make it back to civilization in time to deliver the last remaining sample of Daylight to be mass produced in time?

Jake twitched as the myriad of thoughts drove through his mind like a gaggle of out of control cars. Shaking the cobwebs away he heard the crunching of gravel coming towards him and knew it could only mean one thing. Finding a boxcar with its door pulled aside the hitman quickly pulled himself inside and took cover behind a stack of crates.

"_Any sign of that shithead?" _he heard a voice calling out over a radio.

"That's a negative," a reply came as the footsteps drew closer.

"Continuing patrol," another trooper spoke up.

Jake remained in place until the sounds were out of earshot and he crept towards the opened door on the boxcar's opposite side, peeking his head out to find two commandos disappearing around a caboose. With no other threats in sight he leapt down and was about to continue until he looked into a nearby building and spotted a shadowy figure with a long-barreled gun moving past one of the windows.

Knowing it had to be another sniper, he threw himself against the concrete wall, hoping the man hadn't spotted him. There was a short flight of stairs nearby and he inched himself towards them. As he moved there were no indicators shots had been fired, no _thwacks _of concrete being struck by silenced rounds, no dust to cloud his vision, nothing.

It was safe to assume he hadn't been noticed and he pulled himself up the stairs and to a nearby green door as the helicopter could be heard making its latest round.

"_I've gotta get that sniper prick," _he told himself, knowing he could be a sitting duck as long as the man was around to keep his finger on the trigger. It also occurred to him if he could get his hands on that rifle that maybe he could use it to take down the Apache. _"Shoot the pilot and it should be problem solved. Won't be a case of 'simple as that,' but will be good to get a huge pain out of my ass," _he thought as he crept through the corridor and poked his barrel into the nearby offices to make sure he was alone on this floor before ascending the staircase.

The sniper was nowhere in sight, but Jake knew he was close and did what he could to minimize the scuffing of his boots across the tile floor. He still heard nothing and knew he had to draw the man out. Balling his fist he wrapped on the nearby wall before ducking into an alcove next to the drinking fountain and placing a hand to the hilt of his sword.

Muffled footsteps pattered against the tile floor, sounding as if the approaching figure was moving on velvet, something he noticed about all of the commandos he encountered. Jake studied the figure's shadow along the wall and waited for the man to pass him by before leaping out and slicing downward, cutting out the man's hamstrings from underneath him, dropping him to his knees.

"Tough luck loser," the hired gun spat to the wailing man before driving his katana into the man's neck.

Another temporary objective had been accomplished and Jake knelt down to collect the man's rifle, a SR-25, along with the ammo for his sidearm and the line of grenades strapped to his harness.

Now he had to deal with that bothersome chopper.

Raising the rifle he used the stock to smash the nearest window and pulled the pin on one of the grenades, chucking the entire line near one of the boxcars.

"Hope this works," he whispered as he ducked into a nearby office and took cover behind the desk.

A chain reaction of explosions followed and he listened as all of the windows overlooking the train yard were blown out, followed by the roar of the copter's miniguns.

Jake made his way back into the hallway, met by a wall of smoke, and looked out to find the very boxcar had been blown in half and another behind it had been overturned while still attached to the rear end.

He could hear the attack chopper drawing closer and ducked out of sight, preparing the rifle while waiting for some of the smoke to dissipate. Peeking out of the shattered window's corner he spotted the Apache closing in to survey the damage. It was time to act and he raised the gun from a safe angle, peering through the scope and hoping to get a good shot at the cockpit, the draft from the copter's rotors blowing some of the smoke away and providing him with the much needed opening he was looking for.

Squeezing the trigger he watched as the copter rocked from the round, but didn't know if any significant damage had been done. He fired another round, still nothing of note. A third round was fired and he watched as gasoline poured from the fresh perforation, feeding the flames below and could tell the pilot was now struggling to maintain control.

A smirk crossed the hitman's features and he took another deep breath, training his sights over the cockpit and hoping for the best. With another pull a fourth round was expelled from the rifle's barrel and the copter lurched violently to the side.

Rising to his feet he watched as the Apache entered a chaotic tailspin, a stream of fuel following the whirlwind of confusion and further feeding the fires raging below before it nosedived into a building across from him and then exploded into a ball of flame.

"_Jackal 3, do you see anything? Jackal 3 report!" _a gruff voice hissed.

Jake's attention returned to the deceased commando and he noticed the radio attached to the man's shoulder.

"_Jackal 3, do you copy?" _the man on the other end called out as the hired gun unclipped the radio, looking to give the man a piece of his mind.

"So you're the shithead who's been following me around?" he spoke nonchalantly into the receiver, wanting to really piss the guy off.

"_Cavanaugh…" _the man growled, breathing deeply before he spoke, _"…you bastard. You're going to be history when we're through with you."_

"Is that so?" Jake asked, not at all intimidated by the man's hollow threat, "Well I figured I'd piss you off a little more before I become history," he shouted before tossing the radio to the floor and stomping it to pieces.

He could hear the frantic voices of more commandos approaching and slung the rifle around his back, drawing the M4A1 and proceeding further down the hall.

His only mission now was to escape and he hoped there would be some form of transportation to get himself out of the warzone.

"_Now would be a good time for some super genius to come along and invent a teleporting device or at least something to make me invisible," _Jake told himself as he moved down another staircase and stuck the M4A1's barrel out before advancing, only to come to a grinding halt as the door at the end was thrown open and a fragmentation grenade was chucked in his direction.

The lone hitman whirled on his heel and bolted back for the staircase, only to be met by a commando waiting for him at the top as the explosive went off behind him. Thankfully he was out of the bomb's blast radius and he ducked for cover behind the wall as the new assailant fired a volley upon him, sending him straight back into the waiting sights of the trio coming from the other end.

He was boxed in and fired madly towards the trio, wanting to get the bigger challenge out of the way first. His rounds had managed to wound two of the men, one in the arm and the other in the lower abdomen, while the third had managed to dive to safety. Out of desperation Jake responded with a grenade of his own, pulling the pin and chucking it towards the two wounded men, claiming both their lives.

Jake could hear the footsteps coming from behind and returned his attention to the other commando descending after him, quickly raising his rifle and firing a burst before the other man could get a shot off, sending him tumbling forward down the stairs before finishing him off with a hard stomp to the neck.

That left one more commando positioned in the doorway, firing a burst which the hitman barely dodged and instead peppered the brick wall he previously stood before. Jake fired another salvo before his clip ran dry and with no time to reload he was forced to draw his sidearm, managing to squeeze off four rounds before he finally struck the masked man in the shoulder. With the final assailant wobbling he leapt into the open and fired three more rounds into the soldier's chest, dropping him into the corner.

"Nothing but a bunch of fucking pansies," the hired gun muttered under his breath as he pushed his way through the door and ran down another corridor before finding himself in a small garage.

"Jackpot," he whispered looking towards the opposite wall where he found a blue and white dirt bike resting. It wouldn't offer much protection and wasn't exactly the fastest mode of transportation, but it was better than nothing, plus it helped that the gas tank was full and the key was resting on a hook nearby.

It would be suicide for him to go out through the garage door, still able to hear the soldiers scrambling about beyond the thin layer of aluminum. No doubt they had probably heard his gunshots from the hallway and were sending reinforcements into the building.

There was only one option left, the backdoor.

Easing the door open, the hitman scanned the surrounding area with his rifle before hurrying back to the dirt bike and grabbing the key off the ring, sliding it into the ignition as he walked the bike through and gradually began picking up the pace before throwing himself on and turning the key, the buzzing engine creating more ruckus than he would have liked. He had to get out of there fast.

Jake raced along a dirt trail behind some more warehouses while looking for any woodland paths he could cut through to make his much needed getaway.

"_C'mon damn it," _he thought to himself, just as a commando stepped into view and opened fire, forcing him to lower his head as the bullets soared above him and ripped away at the dirt and grass around him. He raced head on towards the masked man in a deadly game of chicken, forcing his attacker to leap for cover behind some red barrels labeled as _'flammable.'_

"_That's it!" _he said to himself, noticing a row of the combustible drums near a parked oil tanker.

Jake still had some grenades taken from the sniper back at the office building and wanted to go for another bang, bringing the dirt bike to a halt as he ripped the line from his chest and pulled the pin on one of the explosives, chucking the entire line over his shoulder before gunning the engine down the trail, another chain reaction of explosions and another wall of heat licking at his coattails as he raced off into the wilderness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The silent tranquility of the forest was shattered as Jake Cavanaugh sped along a woodland stream, gunning the dirt bike's engine as fast as it would go, focusing only ahead as everything else became a green and brown blur around him.

Unfortunately for him there had been no available maps and all he could do now was follow the watercourse, hopeful it would lead him to some other sign of civilization.

"_Anywhere but here," _he repeated to himself as he slowed the bike upon reaching a hill covered in wet silt, darting his gaze back and forth for any threats lurking in the surrounding woods as he made his ascension and picked up speed as he came out of the muddy patch and made his descent.

There was no telling how far he had managed to get away from Springvale, but given the current circumstances it was another trip for the hired gun that had seemed like forever.

Looking down to the bike's gas meter he could see that he would still be traveling quite a ways before he would be forced to refuel, or more like abandon the bike altogether given his lack of money. Still, he would have the satisfaction of having to escaped, again if that would be possible.

It was the uncertainty which kept him racing forth with no thoughts of looking back. Never before had his sense of tunnel vision been this intense and again all he could see in front of him was the blue of the daytime sky, everything else around him a blur.

Eventually the heavens seemed to expand and the multicolored hues to his side lessened until he saw a wider open area and in the distance he could see a bridge.

Reality crept into the hitman's mind and he brought the dirt bike to a screeching halt.

Knowing these commandos, he was certain they would have any entrances into the town covered by now and he assumed they would have heard the dirt bike's motor.

"Shit," Jake muttered to himself pulling the SR-25 from his back and peering through the scope. As he expected, there were several commandos standing guard on the bridge, two of their Humvees positioned at each end with manned turrets. His blood chilled when he could see a few of them carrying sniper rifles, including one whom he thought might have taken notice of him.

Grabbing the dirt bike's handlebars he was preparing to turn around when he heard the branches rustling above him, as it was when a squirrel leapt from tree to tree. Having heard no signs of animal life as he made his escape, the hitman looked above him to find the empty branches wobbling.

"What the fuck?" Jake whispered, just before a pair of hands gripped his shoulders and next thing he knew, the hired gun was finding himself flying through the air, landing hard on his side in the gooey mud and rolling along until he connected with a patch of dry grass.

The hitman gasped and felt his heart race as he looked around for any sign of what had just grabbed him. He looked up to the trees and again saw nothing and then down the stream where the dirt bike lay idling on its side. Trying to roll over, he halted when he felt something poke him and found himself lying on top of his M4A1, the rifle broken in half beneath his weight. Inches away from him the SR-25 rested, its pieces clogged by the wet mire it rested in.

He saw a small sliver of hope when he spotted his H&K MK23 and he rolled over onto his belly crawling through the dirt to get at it, only to feel a pair of hands grasping the back of his shirt and before he knew it, he was again airborne and found himself tossed back even farther, landing face down in the water.

Jake gagged violently as he brought his head out of the shallow tributary, trying to blink the dirty water out of his eyes as he tried to comprehend what was happening to him.

A harsh laugh sounded from above him and he looked forward again blinking his eyes, only able to make out a black squiggly figure.

"I thought you were better than this Mr. Cavanaugh," a condescending voice called out, one he hoped he would never have to hear again, one he _shouldn't_ have been able to hear.

"No…it can't be…" Jake gasped in astonishment as he gathered the strength to push himself to his knees and saw a lone man blocking out the sun's rays.

"It's impossible…I fucking killed you!" the hired gun blurted out as he looked up to Albert Wesker.

He had watched as he fired the round which struck the man between his eyes and sent him crumpling to the ground to what should have been his eternal damnation, yet here he was alive and kicking with his face looking good as new.

"Quite the contrary wouldn't you say?" the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain taunted crossing his arms over his jacketed chest. "Let's just say I am not like you. I have become something more, something along the lines of an advanced evolution beyond Herbert Spencer's wildest dreams."

"Is that so?" Jake asked spitting out some filthy water, "Advanced evolution or not, it doesn't mean I'm not going to find some way to make sure you die and stay dead!"

The hitman could feel the weight of the magnum still in his shoulder holster and reached for it, drawing it high and firing a round, yet the madman had vanished into a black puff and less than a split second later he was finding himself airborne yet again.

"What part of 'advanced evolution' do you not comprehend Mr. Cavanaugh?" Wesker mockingly asked, "Do you truly believe that pitiful 'toy' of yours will have any kind of effect on me?"

"_Damn, that was like being hit by a Mack truck," _Jake thought to himself as he again struggled to push himself back to his feet, his vision multiplying and his midsection burning like his stomach had ruptured. _"What the fuck is this guy made of?"_

There was no time to ponder as he felt an iron hand gripping his throat and shoving him against a tree, his back throbbing beneath the vibration and his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he found himself staring into Albert Wesker's face.

"You've disappointed me Jacob," the madman said shaking his head in disgust, "To think I almost wasted ten million dollars on your worthless hide. The thought of you being a highly sought after commodity is laughable," he spoke with no trace of emotion. "Now I know why your best friend left you for dead."

That comment alone was enough to send a fresh wave of rage coursing through Jake's system.

"Fuck…you!" he gagged before summoning the strength to slam his left fist into the man's face.

Jake grimaced and let out a strangled cry of pain, feeling like he just punched a brick wall. He succeeded in knocking his opponent's shades from his face, but when the mystery man opened his eyes he found himself shocked into silence, even after everything else he had seen.

Rather than being greeted by the normal shade of blue, green, brown or hazel he would have expected, instead he found himself looking into two bright yellow corneas with black cat-like slits where pupils should have been, surrounded by a tint of reddish-orange, reminding him of the Hunters.

"What…the hell…are you?" Jake asked in ragged gasps, blood dribbling out every time he opened his mouth.

"I already told you, I am the next stage in human evolution!" Wesker triumphantly declared before tossing him through the air like a rag doll.

Jake struck the ground with a hollow thud, hard enough to rebound and find himself rolling into the shallow stream, coughing violently as his face submerged. He wriggled about in intense pain, suppressing his cries of pain beneath blood-stained teeth. Never before had he been manhandled like this and it was the anger of that realization that kept him from giving up. His pride would never allow him to back down from a man so insecure he had to rely upon some artificial powers to face him head on and his iron will would never allow a beating like this to break him, especially when it came from a coward who had sent him on a literal suicide mission.

"_Come on Jake, you have to do this," _the voice inside his head willing him forth, _"You can't go down like this. He can't have the luxury of taking you down without a struggle. You have to keep fighting until you can't."_

Clasping a handful of dry land Jake pulled himself forth on his stomach, ignoring the muck splashing onto his face. He had a job to do, even if it was something as mundane as him rising back to his feet. This time it was a Herculean struggle unlike anything he had ever before endured, but it was one he had to mount. Refusal was not an option. If this was going to be his last stand he would be doing it on two feet.

"_That's it!" _the voice coached him, _"On your fucking feet! You're not a fucking pussy. You're a man, a man for god's sakes! You're damned sure not going to be broken like you're nothing. You are something and if you're going to die, you're going to do it like you are something in this world!"_

Feeling the fresh surge of air entering his burning, still functioning lungs, Jake ignored the pain stabbing into him like a hundred spears and rose to his feet.

"I'm not dead yet…you piece of shit," the half-dead hitman grunted, cracking an anguished smile to his adversary.

"A man without fear you are. I don't know whether that's supposed to be good or bad for you Mr. Cavanaugh," Wesker said collecting his shades, "A wiser man would have turned and run away, perhaps a death wish runs through your inferior genetics."

"Just keep talking," the hitman grunted taking a wobbly step forward, "It's only going…to get you busted up…even more than you can afford," he spoke between heavy breaths.

"I admire your courage, but you are a fool to challenge me in your sorry state," Wesker replied furrowing his brow beneath his shades.

"Just shut up…and fight already," Jake said attempting to raise his magnum, only to have it fall out of his quivering hand and fire as it struck a rock. It had been like attempting to lift a one-hundred pound weight with one hand, his arm burning as the unbearable pain dominated him.

Rage kept him on autopilot as he continued to stagger towards his enemy, his empty hand outstretched. He continued forth until his foot brushed against a fallen branch and he collapsed to a knee on a pointed rock, letting out another stifled cry.

"That's what I like about you puny humans, you're still able to feel pain!" Wesker smiled walking over with his hands clasped behind him. "You should have accepted my offer. Now look at you, you're going to die. Obviously I couldn't use money as a means of persuasion with you, but I will make you one final offer," he said grabbing Jake by the hair so he could look directly into his eyes.

"I want you to listen to me because I will not repeat myself. You have one final choice to make, either I can make this quick and painless for you," Wesker said producing a Beretta 92F from his sport coat and placing the barrel against his temple, "or I can break every bone in your body and leave you to the elements. The choice is yours."

"Fuck…you," Jake weakly growled before passing out from the pain.

Watching as the hitman's eyes closed Wesker released his grip and allowed him to fall to the ground, his face landing in the gooey sludge.

Footsteps sounded from the distance, but he didn't need to look back to see who it was.

"There he is…and look what he found," Gabriel Karkian spat walking up alongside his long-time associate and training his sidearm upon the hitman's prone form, only to be halted as Wesker's glove hand shot out and clamped down on the muzzle.

"What are you doing?" the Commander demanded.

"His usefulness hasn't run out yet," Wesker replied, prompting a couple odd stares.

"Are you serious? Look at him! He's nothing more than a broken down heap," Karkian spat using his boot to flip the unconscious Cavanaugh onto his back. "I say we put the son of a bitch out of his misery after all the grief he's caused us!" he said looking down to his bandaged arm.

"Yeah, besides he turned down your offer anyway and yet you still want him on your side?" another commando asked, "What makes you think he still won't be wanting to kill you when he wakes up?"

In a superhuman blur of motion, Albert Wesker spun around and clamped his hand down on the masked man's throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand and looking into his eyes.

"I have always been one to see opportunity in the most unlikely of all places and believe me, there are ways of getting him on our side, just as there are ways of preventing you from foolishly jumping to conclusions," the supervisor spat before clamping down on the man's throat and effortlessly snapping his neck.

Wesker tossed the nameless man's body aside and looked over to the other commandos, "Get him ready for transport. We're moving out of here in ten minutes."

"Yes sir!" the commandos called out in unison and he watched as they bent down to gather the fallen hitman.

"_I'm not going to let one little slip up like this prevent me from molding you into my own personalized killing machine. One way or another Cavanaugh, you will be mine."_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Author's Note: What's this? Jake Cavanaugh has been captured! Then again, you probably all had an idea of what was about to go down when you saw this chapter's title. All you can do until then is tune in for the next installment (which hopefully will come _much_ faster than this one).

I know when you get towards the end some of you will probably be scratching your heads and asking yourself "Who the hell is Herbert Spencer?" Well I have my beta reader Crow T R0bot to thank for pointing him out to me.

When he talks about being along the lines of advanced human evolution, I originally had Wesker saying that he was something beyond Darwin's wildest dreams, until Crow pointed the other guy out.

Although Charles Darwin first came up with the idea of evolution, it was Herbert Spencer who coined the term 'Survival of the Fittest' and all the elitist baggage which follows, so you could say that right there is what led to the concept of 'Social Darwinism.'

I would post the links to his page on Wikipedia, but apparently this site has problems with sharing links unless you go in to manually type them out yourself, hence why I have to encourage you to look him up.

Given their background, I wouldn't be at all surprised if the Spencer Family was in a way inspired by Herbert Spencer with how they're trying to speed along human evolution, but in their case being for their own selfish desires.

Well that's it for the time being on my ranting so as I've said I'd better focus on getting this out before you form the angry mobs on me. Read and review as always!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME…especially seeing as how I'm still around to encourage you to do so! \m/


	50. Ch 49: Horrors of the Past

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Alrighty folks I am back and MUCH faster this time! Fortunately for me this was a chapter where the ideas came down upon me like a tidal wave and I was able to crank it out a whole lot faster than the last time around.

Once again, this is another instance where I am struck with a case of E.C.S. (Epic Chapter Syndrome) and this is also going to be another chapter where I am going to do a mixture of first and third person storytelling. To indicate Jake's first person storytelling, _I will be typing entirely in italics just like this so that you know this is being told through the eyes of Jake himself without any form of prompting on the end such as "such and such" said, observed, exclaimed, remarked, etc. _Other than that, everything will be typed normally like this so just gotta clear that up right away.

Now that I've explained myself in that regard it is on with the story we go!

Chapter 49: Horrors of the Past

From out of nowhere a wave of pain assailed him from the abyss in which he lay dormant, forcing an involuntary convulsion that tightened his muscles and constricted his breathing. The pain demanded his attention, letting him know it owned his every waking thought and would not stop until it pried him from his slumber.

A final invisible punch rang out and like a shot of adrenaline; Jake Cavanaugh was jolted awake in a cold sweat.

"Wesker!" he shouted aloud, shooting his hands outward into the empty air. "What the hell?" he asked quietly as he listened to his heart pound in the empty space around him.

The last thing he remembered was his confrontation with Albert Wesker, the bastard beating him into a bloody pulp.

Coming to grips he looked around expecting to find himself alone in the forest or locked away in some small cell, but strangely he was in neither location.

"Where the hell am I?" Jake asked quietly, feeling the wet concrete beneath his opened palms and looked over to the weathered brick walls covered in graffiti and long faded posters, and then down to the rusted dumpsters, broken down cardboard boxes, discarded furniture, smashed TV sets and plenty of trashcans overflowing with garbage, their stench reminding him much of the zombies.

The thought of zombies sent him scrambling for his gun, only to find nothing there and no scabbard on his back carrying his trusted katana.

_"Did they just drop me off like I'm yesterday's trash? I thought those fuckers were looking to kill me after I rejected Mr. Asshole's 'generous proposal,'" _Jake thought to himself, only to suddenly remember the insidious supervisor tossing him about like he was as light as a feather.

Then he remembered the pain which had coursed throughout his body and began feeling around for any cuts or broken bones, but strangely he felt nothing at all, nor could he feel the fresh rivulets of blood streaming down his face. He felt fine.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked aloud, looking down to his tattered clothes, still caked with the blood and dried mud of his last battle.

Wherever he was, he was still alive and in no pain at all with no signs of danger anywhere. He should have felt relieved, yet there was the lingering pang of dread keeping him in a stranglehold of uncertainty.

"I'm going to find out what's going on," he declared pushing himself back to his feet and making a dominant stride down the narrow alley, only to halt as his leg brushed against a rusted old wheelchair and sent it rolling backwards into an overturned trashcan, a feral shriek coming from within.

"Fuck!" Jake blurted out leaping backwards and reaching for anything he could use as a weapon, only to stop himself when a very much alive stray cat came bolting out of its metallic quarters, visibly angered its search for food had been interrupted.

"You're alive?" the hired gun asked the matted feline, only to find himself feeling stupid a second later. _"What the hell are you thinking Jake? It's a cat; it can't sit here and engage you in a heartwarming chat over a few beers. More importantly, it's alive. It's not trying to leap up and gouge your eyes out."_

Jake watched passively as the black cat made its exit and then looked back to the discarded wheelchair, finding himself doing a double take.

Resting on the chair was a plain brown teddy bear with a baby blue bowtie wrapped around its neck. For some reason, the sight of the innocent stuffed animal warmed his heart. It reminded him so much of Barry, the teddy bear his grandmother had given him when he was two years old, the best friend who shared his bed every night with, the companion he had after his father beat the shit out of him over the littlest of things.

_"No, it can't be. The old drunk ripped him apart after I got in trouble for not paying attention in Mrs. Briars' class," _he thought, the warmth ebbing from him as he remembered crying over the shredded remnants of his beloved friend.

The honking of a horn snapped the hired gun out of his reverie and again his attention was drawn towards what awaited him beyond the alley. When he finally entered the open he was stopped dead in his tracks and could only stare silently in awe.

"How the hell did I get back here?" he blurted out staring at the three story Italianate building before him, one he was very familiar with, the lettering above the front entrance identifying the building as _'Somerset City Hall.'_

He couldn't believe it, but somehow he had found his way back to his hometown of Somerset, California, exactly as he had left it years ago.

The ringing of a bell snapped him out of his trance and he looked over to find a delivery boy passing him on a bicycle, seemingly unaware of his existence.

"Strange," Jake muttered as he looked over to see a busker playing an acoustic guitar on a street corner, while a woman waited with her Golden Labrador nearby for the light to change colors. A teenager passed him by on a skateboard, an attractive young woman walked by with a shopping bag in one hand and her cell phone in the other, followed by an older man humming a pleasant tune to himself like he had no cares in the world.

"It's almost like I don't exist," he whispered to himself as he walked past a small corner diner filled with people and then a bus stop where several more citizens waited, there was even a police officer who had pulled over to chat with some kids outside the candy store, all of them oblivious to the filthy, war torn man behind them, whose appearance eerily mirrored that of the very zombies he fought. How he could be ignored in his sorry state was beyond him, unless he was dead…

The questions of 'why' and 'how' he ended up back there still lingering in his psyche, yet he couldn't ignore the sense of nostalgia rushing back to him like the floodgates opened, especially when he noticed the ivory building with a steaming cup of coffee atop it called _'Luigi's Latté Love' _and the black and gray building next to it resembling a medieval castle with the sliding gate erected over the front door and the elaborate green dragon statue perched above it.

It was a stroll down Memory Lane as he passed the ignorant citizens.

_"There's the coffee shop where the guys and I would hang out after school and check out the babes and right next to it, the Dragon's Dungeon comic book store where I blew every allowance I ever made when I was a kid. Then there's Ragetti's, where Old Lady Ragetti used to give me free strombolis all the time, saying I reminded her of her dead son. U Pet with all the dogs I used to check out, wanting one of my own, but my asshole 'father' wouldn't allow it. Old Dewey's, the Uni-Plex, the Red Threads that one hot girl from Atherton used to work at, Record Junkie, Cyberland Arcade, the skating park…damn I could go on forever."_

His stroll down the busy street continued until he felt someone bumping into him.

"Heh heh! You gotta watch where you're goin' there sir. Not everybody around these parts is as friendly as I am," a gruff, yet friendly voice called out, "Well good day to ya' sir!"

Jake felt his blood chill in his veins as if he had seen a ghost.

That's because when he turned around he _was_ seeing a ghost.

The hunched over old man walking past him clad in a red and green plaid shirt and worn trousers held up by suspenders, the balding head covered by the old trucker's cap, the limp which caused his right foot to clop hard and loud against the ground to signal he was coming…it all came back to him too fast.

"Uncle Larry?" the hitman asked whirling around on his heel to follow the old man back to his hardware store…until the gunshots rang out.

In the blink of an eye, the lively atmosphere of a nice sunny day had turned into a nighttime street where a frightened crowd gathered outside of Larry's Hardware. A crew of paramedics loaded a covered figure into the back of an ambulance as several patrolmen stood around to keep the crowd back, while a detective took a statement from a witness and a crime scene technician carefully slipped a .38 revolver into a plastic evidence bag.

"Sorry son, you've gotta step back now," an officer said taking him by the shoulder and leading him back to the crowd.

Jake raised his hand to protest, but instead of the muscular gloved hand of an adult, he found the slender hand of a child.

"What the-" he spoke aloud, but instead of his low adult timbre, he spoke with the high pitch of a child. Looking into the window of a nearby parked car he no longer saw the battered, half-dead adult, but the reflection of a frightened ten year old boy.

It suddenly hit him.

"_Uncle Larry, at least that's what I called him. He was a close friend of my grandpa's, close enough to be considered a family member. He always looked out for me when no one else was around and let me hide in his shop when the bullies were giving me trouble. He always told me one day he would train me to be a big strong carpenter like he was…_

"_Then some two-bit junkie robbed him and shot the poor guy dead, all for fifty bucks so he could get his next fix! I remember being the one who found him, after I was going there to hide from Vinnie Rierson and his boys…I still remember the look in his cold, dead eyes, the scared little boy probably being the last thing they ever looked at."_

The world rippled around him and he was no longer standing in front of the hardware store, but in front of the one place he hoped he would never see again.

"No…damn it no!" Jake gasped as he looked upon the two-story white house with green shutters and a small rose garden out front, surrounded by a white picket fence.

"My old home," he muttered to himself, "Why here? Why damn it, why?"

With the shatter of glass there was sudden darkness.

"Shh, everybody keep quiet!" a teenaged girl's voice hissed.

The small click of a flashlight sounded in the room and Jake found himself in a bedroom with the walls covered in posters of trashy pop groups, as well as various elaborate butterfly collections and the painting of a bright red rose hanging over the one person bed.

A girl of thirteen years stood in a pink nightgown with her ear against the door, listening to the sounds of people fighting and objects being thrown.

Behind her a dark-haired boy of five years hid behind a chair holding a wailing infant in his arms while a three year old girl lay curled in a fetal position with her hands clamped over hear ears and tears streaming down her face.

"Jakey, quick hide behind my bed! Do it!" the dark-haired girl pleaded.

"But I want you to come with me Rosie or else he's gonna hurt you too," another boy whimpered, tugging hard on his sister's arm.

The boy himself shared her dark hair and her bluish-gray eyes, tears streaming freely down his face as his body trembled. His green pajamas were soiled after having gone a week without being washed, flecks of dried blood decorating the cartoon character on the front of his shirt.

"Rose," Jake muttered, his voice going unheard.

He was standing in the background, invisible to the children. It was as if he were a specter forced to watch as his life replayed before him like an old family movie, a demented highlight reel of misery.

The girl called Rosie opened the door as quietly as she could and with it the muffled screams molded into legible words.

"You'd better be pretty damned proud of yourself you lousy piece of shit!" an older masculine voice boomed, one Jake knew all too well and wished he would never have to hear again. "Didn't you even think about what you were doing? You nearly fucking killed that kid! His parents are going to be suing the pants off of us for what you did! What the hell is wrong with you? You're nothing but a goddamned fucking troublemaker! Have been ever since you were little. I swear to fucking Christ you're going to be the death of me!" the voice faded, one that was often followed by the scent of alcohol.

"Steven, please leave him alone! He's had enough already!" a feminine voice sobbed in the background. The sound of a hand striking a face rang out followed by the woman's pained screams.

"Mom…" Jake muttered to himself, wanting desperately to intervene.

"You shut the hell up Mary, ain't no woman gonna tell me how to discipline my own worthless juvenile delinquent of a kid!" the man screamed with enough force to nearly shake the building from its foundation. "I should be asking what the hell is wrong with you too! You defend that hoodlum like he did something small like egging the principal's car. Hell, you've been defending that no good punk all his life! He nearly fucking killed a kid from his school today! He's probably going to be sent away to a reform school for God knows how many years!"

"Why don't you leave her alone you fucking worthless drunk!" another male voice called out, this one a teenager. The pounding of feet against the wooden floor reverberated, followed by more slaps and then the crash of a coffee table being overturned.

"Ryan!" Jake shouted his older brother's name and tried to move, but he couldn't. He was rooted to the floor and strained himself to move, only to be met by an unbearable pain that made him want to buckle over, but yet he couldn't fall down.

"Don't you backtalk me you good-for-nothing piece of shit! It's you who has brought shame upon our family's name ever since the day you were born!" the older man screamed again followed by more crashing noises and then a long period of silence.

"I…I-Is it over?" the younger boy stammered peeking his head out from behind the chair.

From the corner of his eye Jake could see his younger self trying to peer through the crack. He wanted to scream at him not to do it, but his efforts would have been futile. The adult criminal was nothing more than a voiceless shadow.

A thunderous crack rang out as the door was kicked from its hinges, knocking the teenaged Rose and his younger self backwards and sending the other kids screaming from the room, narrowly avoiding the hulking figure with bloodshot insanity in his cold eyes.

Looking at the man standing before him was almost like looking into a mirror. He had the exact same height and build (although lacking the musculature of the hitman) and had a face looking just like his, except his eyes were an almost black shade of brown and had a thick mustache with beads of alcohol dripping from it.

The man needed to vent his drunken frustrations upon some unfortunate victim and right now the seven year old Jakey was the only person in sight. Grunting angrily, he removed his belt and charged for the small child.

"Dad no!" Rose sobbed reaching out helplessly towards her little brother, only to be knocked backwards by a vicious backhanded shot.

The sight of his hulking father lumbering drunkenly towards him made the child version of Jake begin to scream wildly.

"Daddy no!"

Everything went black and the only thing heard was the hired gun's own labored breathing. From out of the darkness a police car suddenly appeared before Jake and handcuffed in the backseat was his brother Ryan, now a bloodied mess after an altercation with their father. The rest of the world came back into view and he could see his mother on their front doorstep being held closely by his sister, both of them crying their eyes out while his father delivered some bullshit story to a police officer about his brother being the aggressor in the confrontation.

Then he looked over to the corner window, where the seven year old Jacob Cavanaugh stared at the grim spectacle, his face lined with fresh welts after being on the receiving end of his father's leather strap.

"_Home sweet home? Yeah fucking right! I remember growing up in that house alright, every day was Hell for me and my siblings. Not a single night went by where that ogre didn't come home in a drunken stupor ready to kill the first thing he saw. Me, my mom, my siblings…nobody was safe from his tirades. I swear, my brother Ryan and I bore the brunt of it just because he thought we were a couple of nobody degenerates who would never amount to anything._

"_I still remember that night. My older brother was 16 and had gotten expelled from school because he nearly killed another kid in a scuffle gone too far. Out of all of us, Ryan was the only one who had the guts to stand up to 'Dad' and I swear he must've gotten his ass beaten within an inch of his life that night. When the cops finally did show up, my father claimed Ryan attacked him first and was able to get him arrested just because he tried defending himself. With what went on earlier that day, the poor bastard didn't make a very believable victim either._

"_Man, I fucking hated my father. A good feeling to say that about your own father isn't it? Bullshit! Hell, one night my mother was tending to my wounds after one of his rampages and she even admitted that she didn't love him anymore after some of the crap he pulled, but was too frightened to leave him. Heh, quite the great feeling to know your parents don't even love each other, isn't it? Makes you feel like you're nothing more than a mistake._

"_My dad fought in Vietnam and my uncle once told me of some of the stuff he endured…watching his best friend blown to bits by a landmine, being covered in the brains of another who was trying to save him from a sniper, seeing his commanding officer cut down by friendly fire after a nighttime ambush, a buddy from Oklahoma being dismembered after he tried giving chocolate to a kid that had been secretly rigged with explosives, a kid fresh out of high school begging him to put him out of his misery after both his legs were blown off…stuff he said no living man should ever have to undergo._

"_Those closest to him think he was forever changed by what he experienced over there. Maybe he drank in an attempt to dull the pain, but all the fucker would do was create more, and it wasn't against some Viet Cong guerillas, rather his own flesh and blood._

"_Damn it, why couldn't I just have a normal father like all the other kids had? One who would take me to the park and play ball with me rather than spend all his time either passed out on the couch or beating the shit out of his own kids? That bastard would've given two fucks less if his own child was lying out in the gutter freezing to death._

"_I must've done something pretty terrible in order to be treated with such disdain. What it is, I'll never know."_

In another ripple Jake found himself transported to the backstreets of Somerset, this time near Haggard Park, which he frequented as a child. From around a corner, the child version of himself raced into view on a red mountain bike he called 'Big Red,' a gift from his grandpa for his eighth birthday.

The child peddled the bike hurriedly, caught up in his own imaginary race and outmaneuvering his non-existent competitors. It seemed as if the sky would be the limit, until he was knocked from his ride by a beefy forearm.

"Have a nice fall shithead?" a malicious cackle came from above.

A husky boy of about ten years stood above him, wearing a blue and white football jersey and had a turned around baseball cap covering his short, shaggy red hair, flanked by two more boys.

It was Vinnie Rierson, the school bully and his cohorts, making their daily rounds on their never ending quest to make someone's life a living hell.

"You really oughta' watch where you're going Cavanaugh! Last I heard your kind wasn't welcome around these parts!" Vinnie taunted as Little Jake backpedaled towards his bike, only to hear it being scooped up behind him and turned to find two bigger kids, one of whom was scooping up Big Red and mounting it.

"Hey get off! That's my bike!" Little Jake protested, only to find himself grabbed from behind and thrown back to the ground.

"Well now it's our property!" Vinnie responded driving his foot into his buttocks and forcing his face into the dirt, "Consider it a 'fee' for safe passage."

Little Jake scrambled desperately on his stomach clawing away at the ground before him until his hand gripped a large rock. Rolling over onto his back he tossed it towards the bully, striking him just below his eye.

"Gah!" Vinnie cried in pain clutching the sore area beneath his eye, "Get him!"

Within seconds the five bullies were dog piling the smaller child and pummeling the living crap out of him.

"_Vinnie Rierson, God I hated that punk. That asshole had nothing better to do than make my life a living hell, all because he was an insecure piece of shit that needed to terrorize others just to feel good about himself. I can't even remember how many times that punk beat me up for my lunch money or tried taking me down on the playground in front of everybody else, but I sure as hell remember him and his crew stealing Big Red, the very bike given to me by my grandfather!"_

The ripple that followed showed Little Jake now a battered mess, eyes blackened, lip split open, face covered in bruises and his clothing tattered and torn. He walked down the street with his head down, ignoring the concerned looks of adults all around him until he turned a corner only to happen across another event he would never forget.

While passing across Uncle Georgie's Deli, he heard another familiar voice and stopped.

"Perhaps I'm not making myself clear enough old man, so let me repeat myself and maybe your old senile ass will comprehend," a tough, but youthful voice called out, "You're on Blitzer territory now! You will do as we say and you will pay us protection money when we demand it! Comprende?"

Little Jake recognized the voice and snuck up towards the opened door and peered inside, finding his older brother Ryan standing at the shop's front counter with four other guys around his age, all of them wearing black hoodies and carrying baseball bats.

"I will not!" the elderly proprietor shouted back defiantly waving his cane at the hooligans, "I did not come to this great country to be bullied by a bunch of lowly piss ant hoodlums like you! Now get lost before I call the cops on your worthless punk asses!"

Ryan only smirked at the old man's boldness and looked back to his four friends, "Alright old man, you wanna do this the hard way, huh? Well we certainly can do just that! Trash this place!" he screamed before taking his bat and smashing open the display counter's glass, covering the tile floor in bloody red meat.

Taking a cue from their leader the four other gang members proceeded to cause whatever mayhem they could: smashing windows and display cases, knocking down displays, tearing down signs, breaking open crates and tossing empty beer bottles at the owner.

Uncle Georgie had tried fleeing into the nearby office, but Ryan quickly leapt over the counter and proceeded to beat him to a bloody pulp. Once the elderly owner had been incapacitated, he snatched the man's keys and looted everything from the store's register.

Ryan stood tall observing his dirty work with an almost ghoulish glee as one of his cohorts pulled out a can of spray paint and marked their territory with a large red 'B.'

"Alright boys, I think Pops should have the message by now!" Ryan called out before smashing the wall-mounted phone to pieces. Looking down to the fallen man he spoke, "Remember Gramps, you're on Blitzer's territory now! You keep this up; this is bound to happen again and again!"

The older Cavanaugh brother was about to tell his boys to pull out when he turned his attention to the front door to find his little brother standing there, looking on in horror at what had just transpired.

"Oh shit, Jake!" Ryan blurted out and looked back to his buddies, who shared similar looks of anxiety now that they had been spotted. Knowing they were dealing with an impressionable child they quickly shook it off.

"C'mon, let's get the hell outta here!" Ryan Cavanaugh said rushing towards the front door and grabbing his brother, leading him to a battered red van his gang had been using.

"Ryan!" Little Jake blurted out, but was silenced by a gloved hand clamping down over his mouth.

"Kid, just shut up and get in," his older brother spoke throwing him into the back and sitting down next to him as one of his fellow Blitzers jumped in and pulled the double doors shut behind them while another climbed into the driver's seat and started the van up.

"Ryan, what have you done?" the younger brother asked, only to have his brother clamp a hand over his mouth again.

"Jake, what has just gone on here is something you were never meant to see!" the older Cavanaugh firmly explained, "Whatever you do, do not tell anybody about this! Got it?"

Little Jake looked up to his older brother in wide-eyed horror, knowing what he was doing was wrong, yet he feared the elder's retribution even more.

"Okay, I won't tell Mom or Dad," he sheepishly replied as the gang members sifted through the money they had just stolen.

"_My older brother Ryan, or as his buddies called him 'the Scorpion,' probably the toughest man I ever knew. Dad was right about him being a thug, but yet he was still my family and I still loved him and looked up to him as a hero in the same way any little brother should. To me he was everything a man should be: strong, fearless, independent, aware and overall, unwilling to take crap from anybody who crossed him. He wasn't a cowardly drunk who had to push around those weaker than him like our old man; to me he was something, someone I could admire. I didn't care if he was a criminal or not, he was still my flesh and blood._

"_A lot of people would be quick to assume it was him who corrupted me, made me into the 'degenerate thug' my father often spoke of. Heh, maybe they're actually telling the truth instead of spreading shit behind my back. Sure, he might've taught me the fundamentals of pick-pocketing and how to break into someone's house without being noticed, but he taught me a whole lot more than that._

"_He would always tell me 'Remember bro', your wits and your fists are the only things you can rely upon in this bullshit world. Its dog eats dog, everybody is out to get you at one point or another and chances are none of them are going to try peacefully reasoning with you. You have to be just as ruthless and cunning as they are to come out on top, that's the only way.'_

"_My brother spoke those very words to me and I've taken them to heart ever since. If I didn't have him around, I probably would've died years ago."_

The scene flashed to an abandoned barn where Little Jake punched away furiously at a weathered punching bag in front of him, his blows echoing through the rickety quarters as punch after punch landed upon the tattered surface.

"That's right Jake, you pretend that's Rierson's face you're pounding in," Ryan shouted next to him, "Hit that fucker hard! Break his fucking nose! Make him pay for taking Big Red!" the elder Cavanaugh sibling called out, his harsh commands pushing his kid brother to greater extremes he didn't even know were possible.

"Alright," Ryan said pushing his brother away from the wobbling bag, "Now I wanna watch you break his fucking ribs!" he shouted before delivering a hard kick to the sack, "Just like that! Once you've broken his ribs, you take out his butt ugly face!" he said showing him how to perform a textbook reverse roundhouse kick, "Now you try it!"

Jake slowly approached the bag and took a deep breath, only to receive a sharp shove from his big brother.

"Don't fucking stand there and look at him! Fuck him up!" he shouted.

Letting out a battle cry Jake launched himself forward and delivered a hard kick of his own, his leg burning as it made contact with the canvas surface. With no time to shrug it off, he spun his body and attempted the reverse roundhouse kick, his foot barely grazing the suspended bag.

"No, no, no, this is how you do it!" Ryan said before taking his place in front of the bag.

"_Ryan taught me a lot about fighting too. Mom secretly signed him up for Karate classes when he was little, remembering how the bullies liked to mess around with him too. His sensei kicked him out because he was always getting into fights, but still he learned enough to pass down to me._

"_He'd also received some training in boxing from Old Man Epps, the guy who ran a gym in our town. He was supposed to have been a pretty good amateur boxer back in his day, could've reached the big time, but some shady promoter paid an opponent to rough him up pretty bad, never got over it so he dedicated his time to training. He taught Ryan quite a bit that he would pass down to me._

"_There was also that Mr. Rostov guy who ran the barber shop that had taken him under his wing and taught him a few of the basics of the Russian martial art Systema. Where he learned it from nobody knows, but there were a lot of rumors flying around that he was a member of the G.R.U. back in the Soviet Union. Needless to say, anything he taught Ryan would soon be passed down to me."_

The scene flashed to the front lawn of Somerset High School, another place the young man had experienced much hardship.

Here he was now a teenager sitting on one of the marble benches in the school's 'Brotherhood Square' with his sketchpad in front of him.

In the center of the square stood a granite statue of Cyrus Dutton, the town's founder, but Jake was reimagining the image before him, replacing the man's top hat with a horned helmet, drawing a sword where his cane should have been and then adding a shield with an elaborate dragon's head design and throwing in some spiked shoulder pads as a finishing touch.

Drawing had been a means of therapy for him, allowing him to escape from the struggles of the real world. He often found himself imagining things as they had been in the old comic books his brother gave him, tales of the hero overcoming the bad guy, saving the world and getting the girl. It wasn't uncommon for him to add his own original touches to the things he saw around him, turning a harmless, domesticated Miniature Schnauzer into a powerful wolf, transforming the shy girl who sat across from him in Biology into a buxom femme fatale wielding a battle axe taller than she was, or reimagining the downtown area as a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

"_Hmmm, maybe I need to make his eyebrows a little more slanted, give him that 'sadistic eastern European count' look like Vlad the Impaler has," _the teenaged Jake thought to himself as he prepared to rework the statue's eyes, only to find himself being shoved hard to the pavement from behind.

"You know, you really need to stop being so clumsy Cavanaugh!" a familiar taunting voice called out from behind.

Jake rolled over onto his back to find Vinnie Rierson again standing tall over him, now older and larger than he was before. He reached down and picked up the sketchpad and leafed through the drawings.

"My you're quite the Picasso, aren't you?" Vinnie asked ripping a page out of the pad and crumpling it into a tiny ball, "Too bad his artwork looked like somebody was on crack when they made it!"

"_High school was hell for me. I was the quiet, introverted type who spent most of my time alone, so naturally I had a target painted on my back._

"_There were people who knew my father was an alcoholic and that my brother was a criminal, giving them plenty of ammo for hurling insults my way in the lunchroom if they weren't already hurling their lunches at me. Then you had those who picked on me because I wore black most of the time and listened to heavy metal, trying to accuse me of being either a Satanist or a vampire, 'Dracula' being a nickname some asshole in my Music Appreciation class gave me._

"_If it wasn't for those reasons, then they invented their own excuses for not liking me. There was that mousy kid in my math class whom I tried opening up to after I learned he liked the 'Robo Man' video game series like I did, but he blew me off thinking I was another bully trying to gain his trust so I could give him a swirly when he least expected it._

"_Then there was that girl I saw in the library who wasn't bad looking and I tried talking to, but she thought I was a creep just because I was quiet. Too many people looking for reasons to throw me into the gutter and stomp on me like I was the lowest form of shit._

"_Believe me, there were plenty of jocks and other tough guys who came my way looking for a cheap thrill, thinking I was some defenseless Goth kid who would be too chicken shit to fight back."_

"Give it back!" Jake Cavanaugh demanded as he pushed himself back to his feet and dusted his clothes off.

Vinnie turned to look at him just as he was about to rip another page out of the sketchbook, "Give it back!" he called back in a mocking tone, "Or you'll what?" he laughed harshly.

"I'll kick your fucking ass!" Jake hissed, his breathing becoming labored and his knuckles clenching.

The bully would only laugh even harder at his victim's threat, "Cavanaugh you lousy wimp! I've been mopping the floor with your sorry ass for years. What makes you think this time around will be any different?" he scoffed punching a beefy fist into his opened palm.

A large group of students began to surround the two would-be combatants. Neither student was particularly popular, so the crowd remained largely indifferent as to whom the victor would be. All they knew is that they were about to see some action that would distract them from their monotonous daily routine.

The teenaged Jake Cavanaugh stared viciously towards the very brute who had tormented him for years, ready for some payback.

"Well what's it gonna be Dracula? You gonna fight me or what?" Vinnie asked shoving him hard enough he went stumbling back into the statue. The bully attempted to follow up with a haymaker, but Jake would pull out a new trick and ducked under the swing, responding with a trifecta of blows to the man's midsection before shooting out his foot and sweeping him from his feet.

"You're gonna regret that!" the burly bully grunted pushing himself back to his feet and attempted to clothesline him like he had seen in countless wrestling matches, but Jake had anticipated his lack of speed and sidestepped to the man's opposite side, delivering a hard kick to his side that sent him buckling over clutching his ribs.

"What the hell?" he heard Vinnie cough, but the bully again pulled himself back to his feet, knowing he had a 'tough guy' image to protect and didn't want to lose face in front of those he had terrorized for so long.

"Who's the bitch now?" Jake asked feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins, driven by the pent up frustration from the years of torment and abuse he suffered at his opponents' hands. For once he was feeling the rush of being the aggressor and he was determined to make the hated bully feel what it was like when the shoe was on the other foot.

"Damn you!" Vinnie screamed lunging towards his smaller opponent, only to be met by a backhand that left a nasty bruise on his jaw. Jake wasn't finished there as he delivered a combo of lightning quick jabs and ended with an uppercut that knocked the big man flat onto his back.

Before the teenager could finish off his opponent he was restrained by two different sets of hands latching onto his arms.

"That's going to be enough out of you Mr. Cavanaugh!" an authoritative voice boomed, that of Principal Ernst.

"He started it!" Jake spat as he was dragged away by the principal and gym teacher Mr. Miller, "I was sticking up for myself!"

"That's still no excuse for violence," the principal replied.

"It's awful funny you couldn't be there every other time he was giving me shit!" the teen spat bitterly.

"_I fucked up anybody who messed with me. I had to show them I wasn't as defenseless as they thought. Anybody who gave me grief left a bloody pulp. It surprises me sometimes that I didn't get expelled for what I did, then again I had an aunt who was a defense lawyer. She was able to pull quite a few strings for me, being her favorite nephew and all. She knew about the crap I went through, too bad she couldn't get my dad put behind bars. As powerful as she was an attorney, she was still frightened of my father; after all he had threatened to kill my mom on several occasions if she took any action against him."_

"Thank you Jake, he was giving me trouble too," a timid voice spoke up.

Gone was the schoolyard setting and the teenaged Jake now found himself face to face with a short, wiry boy around his age who had ear-length wavy dark brown hair, dark beady eyes and a narrow, rat-like face.

"_Milo Hirschberg, my first true best friend. He and I became friends after that fateful day and over time I would gradually learn more about him and connect to him in many ways other than what TV shows or video games we liked. Much like me, he came from a broken home, lost people close to him at an early age and was bullied for being different, in his case it was based upon the path to God his family followed._

"_He was more than a best friend; he was a brother to me. We were there for each other when we needed somebody to confide in the most, me when my dad was being his usual drunken self and wanting to smash everything in sight, and him when his parents were either too busy to spend time with him due to their jobs, or were busy screaming at one another when his mother suspected his father of having an affair with his secretary. No matter what the situation was, we were _always_ there for one another whenever we needed each other."_

In another blinding flash of light, Jake and Milo were sitting together in Luigi's Latte Love with three more individuals.

The first was a pudgy kid with short chestnut-colored hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

"_Vance Chisholm, or as those who picked on him liked to call him 'Porky.' To us he was known simply as 'the Genius.' In spite of his social awkwardness he was truly a brilliant individual whom we often joked that had he gotten anything less than an A it would have signaled the coming of the apocalypse. We often wondered if we would see him around the next year due to the possibility of him being able to graduate early and heading off to any college he pleased.'"_

Seated next to Vance was a taller, thinner kid with short curly black hair and wore a bomber jacket.

"_Eddie Greenwald, the ladies' man…at least he thought he was. He was always going on little adventures trying to score himself 'a fair lady,' only to be shot down in the end, always provided some laughs for the rest of us. On the bright side, he was always able to find cool things for us to do, so at least we were guaranteed an adventure if we had him by our side."_

The last guy in the group had shoulder-length blond hair and a small goatee on his chin, clad in a grubby plaid shirt.

"_Jimmy Prentiss was the last member of our little clique. If there were two things he cared about in life they were getting high and rocking out. Whenever he wasn't stuck in school or hanging with us he spent his every waking moment jamming away on his guitar, determined he would one day escape his dreary small town life and become a big rock star. He showed me the basics of learning guitar and for a time had me wanting to start a band with him._

"_We did everything together, whether it was hiking through the woods, going for road trips out of town, or just chilling in Jimmy's basement and rocking out. With them around, I finally had a clique I could call my own."_

A second later it was back to just Jake and Milo.

"_Like they say, all good things must come to an end. Vance left town after his dad accepted a better paying job in Washington State, Eddie got killed in a car accident coming home from a family reunion and Jimmy was arrested and charged as an adult after he shot his stepfather following a heated argument._

"_They were my friends, but they didn't share the unbreakable bond I had with Milo._

"_Once it was just the two of us I hung out with him whenever I could. Most of the time it was just us sitting on his balcony having a few drinks and looking up to the stars, sitting there pondering topics ranging from the meaning of life to what we would be doing with our lives once we escaped from Somerset."_

He was taken back to one of those nights, dusk falling and the earliest stars burning as the two of them relaxed in sun loungers, halfway through a 12 pack of Loco Cola and a bag of Rey Sol's Extra Cheesy nachos.

"I was talking to one of the representatives from Vallerdyne today," Milo said before taking a long swig of his second Loco Cola, "It sounds like they have a pretty good Political Science program there and I think I might look into it. They're cheaper and they're closer to home."

Jake raised an eyebrow to his best friend, "I thought you were planning on getting as far away from this hellhole as possible."

Milo looked at him nervously before replying, "Well…I really don't know, I mean I've never been too far away from home. I know there probably isn't anything left for me here once I'm out of school, but at the same time…well I feel like no matter what happens I'll never be able to leave it all behind. Yeah I know…it sounds strange."

Jake offered a slight nod, "Yeah I know you're nervous man, but you've gotta spread your wings. There's a wide open world out there waiting to be explored and there are plenty of new adventures waiting, plenty of new people whom you're destined to befriend, hell maybe there's even a lonely lady somewhere out there whom you're destined to eventually meet and fall in love with. You're obviously not going to find any of that stuff stuck around here."

"Hey, at least here I have my best friend in the entire world," Milo shot back tossing a crumpled up napkin at him.

Jake smiled at the comment knowing it was true. After everything they had been through, they still had each other and he was intent on keeping in touch with him wherever life would take him.

"So what about you?" Milo asked before scooping up a handful of nachos, "Have you gotten in touch with anybody lately?"

Jake breathed deeply knowing this wouldn't be an easy question for him to answer.

"I have no clue," he replied quietly, "I don't know if there are many possibilities after what I've been through. I reached out to one of the guys at the police academy, but he said my record would play against me, guess that shoots down that option."

"C'mon man, don't be such a downer. There's gotta be something out there for you," Milo replied before biting into another nacho, "Have you tried any art schools? I know you love to draw. What about the media institute over in Bainbridge? Maybe you could get into something involving music production, like what Jimmy said he wanted to do if he couldn't make it as a musician."

"Heh, the only thing that is for certain is once I'm legally able to I'm getting the hell out of my house," Jake said, furrowing his brow at the thought of the building which had never been a 'home' to him, more like a prison.

"_Can you believe it? There actually was a point in my life where I wanted to be a cop of all things!_

"_It was the ultimate irony, but I felt it could have been a good way to help deal with my 'father' once and for all, make him so he could never harm anybody else ever again. Not only that, I could've dealt with those who preyed upon the weak, people like Vinnie Rierson and all the other tough guys who felt they had to be all macho and shit. If I had that badge they would have had to respect me._

"_If not that maybe I could have been a teacher or a guidance counselor, do what I could to help those who came from circumstances similar to my own, encourage them to be nice to those less fortunate and help those who need a light at the end of the tunnel."_

"Jake! Help me!"

Next thing he knew, Jake Cavanaugh was lying face down in the dirt, struggling to move after he had received a ten on one beating. It hurt like hell for him to lift his arm and stung even more as he flexed his fingers to clasp the handful of grass beneath him, but he knew he had to move. Milo was in trouble and needed his help.

"I'm coming Milo…hold on!" he gasped weakly as he pulled himself along the grass and summoned the strength to push himself to his hands and knees.

"Jake! Help me! I can't hold on much longer!" his friend cried desperately as he struggled to keep his head afloat.

Milo couldn't swim and those bastards had thrown him into the lake. Still, he had to do what he could to save his best friend.

"I'm coming Milo!" Jake cried out as he reached the dock, gripping a nearby wooden railing to pull himself back to his feet. It hurt like hell for him to stand and he wondered if his sprained ankle would be able to support him as he hobbled along, nearly collapsing several times as he tried to reach the end. He could see his friend flapping his arms frantically as he struggled to keep his head above water, stoking his desire to work through the pain.

"Hold on buddy!" he screamed and continued forth until there was a loud crack beneath him and his foot sunk through a weathered board, crying out in pain as the jagged wood embedded into his flesh.

"Jake! Please!" Milo again screamed before his head dipped beneath the surface and he had to flap his arms wildly before he could pop his head up.

The pain was unbearable and Jake could only cry out in agony as he struggled against the broken board, feeling the jagged shards dig deeper with every strain. He couldn't let it slow him down; he had to save his friend.

After a Herculean yank he pried his leg free and staggered towards the end, seeing the life preserver within reach. With a mighty leap he shot his arm out and clasped the rubber ring.

"Milo, catch it-" Jake was about to toss the ring when he found himself frozen in place.

It was too late.

Milo's lifeless body floated in the water and all he could do was stare at it helplessly, numbed by his failure. He had been too slow and his best friend lost his life because of it.

"No…Milo…I'm so…so sorry…" he gasped, his head falling against the weathered wood and his hand hanging limply over the edge. He had failed. He hadn't just failed to save his best friend, he had failed himself. _"I always told myself I would do whatever I could to protect him."_

The sadness and the guilt he felt some gave way to raw, unbridled anger and he clenched his fists, forgetting the pain as he forced himself to his feet and screamed to the sky for vengeance.

"_I remember being there that day like it was yesterday._

"_Milo and I had been hanging out by Somerset Lake minding our own business when a bunch of cars pulled up behind us and when I saw the blue and white letterman's jackets with the unmistakable Cobra symbol on the front; I knew right away there was going to be trouble._

"_The Somerset Cobras, 'the pride of Somerset, California,' had shown up en masse, led by that pompous prick Ted Beckman, the quarterback and talk of the Daily Chronicle's sports section. There wasn't a time I didn't see him in the halls without a cheerleader on his arm or him shoving someone into the nearest trashcan._

"_Those punks thought they were untouchable because of what they did on the athletic field and more importantly, who their families were. They took absolute pleasure in torturing anybody they felt was beneath them, but yet they were treated as heroes just because they tossed around some freaking pigskin ball!_

"_The sight of Beckman alone was enough to make me sick to my stomach. He could never pass up on the chance to give us trouble, calling Milo a 'filthy kike' at every turn and wondering 'if he would get a reward for staking a vampire?' when it applied to me. He had it out for me ever since that one time I shoved his head into a locker right in front of the cheerleading squad's captain._

"_I tried to stand up for Milo when Ted was telling him to go back to where the other Jews were, but every single one of those bastards swarmed me when I dared to touch his precious medals. I did what I could to hold them off, but there were too damn many of them and before I knew it I was on the ground sucking dirt._

"_Once I was dealt with, they wanted to see if they could 'clean a filthy kike' and tossed Milo into the lake for a cheap laugh. Well they got their laugh alright and took off like the cowards they truly were when they knew Milo was in trouble._

"_They had crossed the line and I was determined to make them pay for murdering my best friend."_

With no flashes or ripples this time, Jake found himself outside a sports-themed restaurant called Pigskin Pete's, a joint frequented by the top athletes from his school. He could only watch passively as his younger self was subjected to yet another gang beating.

"You're going down Vamp!" Ted Beckman's voice taunted while assailing him with a flurry of fists and feet.

"A worthless chump, just like your loser friends!" another called out.

"Not so tough now, are you punk?" a third Cobra shouted before spitting on him, this particular player having his nose broken by Jake during the skirmish at the park.

"Damn you bastards! Damn you all to Hell!" Jake roared with his last ounce of strength.

In another flash, young Jake Cavanaugh now lay in a hospital bed, his right arm in a sling, brace around his neck and his face heavily bandaged with his left eye completely wrapped up.

"_They fucked me up pretty good: broke my arm, cracked a few of my ribs, sprained my neck, screwed up my left knee, shattered my ankle, broke my nose, dislocated my shoulder, bruised my left eye until it was swollen shut and left me with who knows how many cuts and bruises. To call me a mess was an understatement, I was a disaster. The physical pain was nothing compared to what I learned the day after._

"_The Somerset Cobras, each and every one of them, got let off with a slap on the wrist…a slap on the fucking wrist for an incident that caused a man's death!_

"_Deep down I probably should've expected it 'cause they were all punks from families of wealth and high social status. They had the best lawyers money could buy and could've probably shot a cop dead in the middle of rush hour traffic and still gotten away with it!_

"_They did whatever they could to paint me as the aggressor, despite the fact that it was me all alone against eleven guys. It was thanks to a lot of string pulling done by my aunt that I was spared jail time and furthermore, wasn't expelled from school for what I did._

"_The pain was still there from what had happened. I truly felt alone in the world with my closest friend gone and back home I couldn't be helped much either. My dad being the hardcore drunk he was probably would've beaten my mom and siblings within an inch of their lives if they even tried being there for me. He viewed me as a no good punk and _wanted_ me to feel isolated."_

From out of the darkness a beautiful young woman emerged. She stood about five feet seven inches in height and had long, shiny light brown hair falling to the middle of her back, crystal blue eyes of the lightest hue, lips as pink as the flowers growing in his mother's garden, fair, delicate-looking skin and a shapely figure that would make any man swoon. In her arms she held a bouquet of the reddest roses he had ever seen.

It was when she finally smiled to him his heart was instantly melted.

"_On that very day a miracle happened, a miracle which brought light to the darkness of my tragedy, one that soothed whatever pain I felt._

"_It was the day I met _her_, my angel._

"_Her name was Ashley and she told me she had been one of the Cobras' girlfriends, but left him after she learned what they had pulled. She too had been disgusted and told me she completely understood the grief that must've driven me when I attacked those punks. Hell, even she thought I had given them what they deserved._

"_What struck me the most, she told me she would be there for me if I ever needed anything and even offered me her phone number. Aside from Milo, it was the only other time somebody told me they would be there for me and I believed them, and coming from her lips it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard._

"_She turned around to leave, but I grabbed her and told her to stay. I didn't want to be left alone and I certainly didn't want this being my only time seeing her. I can still hear that cute giggle of hers as she said 'Okay, maybe I could stay for a few extra minutes, I'm in no hurry.'_

"_That woman ended up staying with me for hours and within the short amount of time I had known her, I truly opened up to someone other than my best friend about _everything_ that had gone on in my life. It truly takes someone of a special character to sit there and listen to what I had to say and in the end I moved her to tears. She told me she was looking to meet more people like me in the world, people who were unique and different to what surrounded her, those who looked beyond the superficial layers to see what lay beneath._

"_She told me how she was from the Conrad Park area, the richest part in all of Somerset, and was getting tired of all the materialistic B.S. that surrounded her. Huh, can you believe it? A popular rich girl from the good part of town is giving me, a social outcast troublemaker the time of day. Sure it would have ruined her standing in the elite social circles, but somehow I don't think she would have cared too much and that alone told me there was something special about her."_

A series of images flashed through his mind from all the time he spent with Ashley: their first date at a small Italian restaurant, their first kiss under a starlit sky, walks through the park, trips to the county fair and ending with the eventual consummation of their relationship. They were images of Jake genuinely feeling the happiest he had ever felt in his whole life.

"_Once I got out of the hospital I spent all the free time I could with that girl. For the first time in my life, I truly felt alive and I loved every second of it, but I loved her more. She was the first person I told 'I love you' to and actually meant it. Ashley literally saved my life and for once I knew what I was going to do once I got out of Somerset, I was going to marry her and bring some stability to my life._

"_Things seemed like they would have been that way until fate decided to piss on me again."_

The teenaged Jake Cavanaugh found himself sitting on a park bench with his arms around Ashley as she sobbed hysterically.

"Jake, I'm pregnant!" her anguished voice rang through his mind.

"_Those words hit me like a Mack truck. Both of us were barely past 18 and already she was pregnant with my child. We were too frightened to be excited by the news and had no idea what we were going to do about it. We both knew for certain her father would kill her if he found out, but she didn't want to have an abortion either. We were stuck between a rock and a hard place and decided we wouldn't tell anybody until we thought of a better solution._

"_I know I was young, but for damn sure I would have been willing to take on the responsibility of helping her raise a child because I loved her more than anything and I would've done whatever I could to make sure I was able to provide for the new life about to enter this world."_

A funeral march sounded from out of nowhere and the next thing Jake knew, he was in a black suit standing before the very casket holding his high school sweetheart, the love of his life. Having repressed his emotions for much of his life, this time the tears streamed freely down his face.

"_I failed her…the only woman I ever truly loved._

"_Four months into her pregnancy, Ashley's father found out and hurt her in the worst way possible. He flew into a frenzy and beat her so severely she lost the baby. According to her mother, she became so despondent at the loss of her own child she ended up overdosing on sleep medication."_

The scene of Ashley in her coffin was replaced by a tombstone with her portrait engraved upon the surface and the inscription read:

_ASHLEY DIANNE HAWKINSON, JAN. 17, 1974 – MAY 25, 1992_

"_Beloved daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece and friend. An angel bestowed upon our earth to bring warmth and happiness to those who loved her. May she forever run freely beneath God's golden sun in everlasting peace."_

Jake was helpless and collapsed to his knees before his beloved's grave. The floodgates had opened and the years of bottled up emotions bowled him over, reducing him to a sobbing wreck. It was the single most painful experience he had ever endured.

"_From what I remember, that's the last time I ever cried."_

The tombstone had suddenly vanished and Jake Cavanaugh soon found himself standing face to face with an older man glaring hatefully upon him. Within a blinding flash, the man lay upon the ground a bloody mess with an older brunette-haired woman cradling him in her arms as a ten year old boy stared silently in horror.

"_Dwayne Hawkinson, another prick who hated me from day one. Like many others he was far too quick to judge a book by its cover, seeing me as some troublemaking creep who would never be good enough for his baby girl. He never made any attempt to disguise his contempt and every time I set foot in their house he was always in my face, finding the littlest things to criticize me over._

"_It wasn't long after Ashley's passing when I finally snapped. The bastard confronted me one day as I was leaving school, blaming me for being the reason his beloved daughter was dead and calling me the biggest mistake she ever made. I just fucking lost it after that and all I remember is a red haze. _

"_I pounded that bastard into submission until I could hear Mrs. Hawkinson's screams and remember the look of horror in her blue eyes, it was like I was staring into the face of Ashley and it was her begging me to stop. I remember seeing photos of her mother when she was younger and she looked just like Ashley, it was that flash alone that made me stop and before I knew it, ol' Dwayne was near death._

"_I had allowed my emotions to get the best of me and I ended up pounding the son of a bitch into a coma. There were plenty of witnesses and I ended up getting arrested right on the spot._

"_My luck had finally run out and there were no more strings for my aunt to pull. In addition to facing some serious jail time, I also got expelled just two weeks shy of my high school graduation. There went my future up in smoke."_

In a flash of lightning Jake found himself cutting through a neighbor's backyard on a stormy night, nearly falling backwards as he attempted to scale a wet wooden fence in the middle of a downpour.

"_The most my aunt could get me was bail. As a condition of my bail, I had to observe a strict curfew and be home every night by 10 p.m. I had been over to Jimmy's house playing what should have been a few rounds of 'World Fighter Omega' with his younger brother Doug, but soon we found ourselves really getting into it and by the time I looked at the clock, it was after midnight and I had no choice but to get home. Knowing my dad, he was probably going to be ready to beat my ass the second I got home…Heh, for some reason I ended up picking that over being sent to a place where I would've at least been free from him. Maybe I should've allowed myself to be arrested in the end…"_

Jake held his head low as the torrent of rain pounded against his head, his sweatshirt's hood offering little protection against the elements as he ran through the Bernthal's yard, barely outrunning their tethered pit bull as he pressed forth, having to strain his eyes before he could make out the white picket fence and shoved the back gate open, running up to the backdoor and reaching beneath the novelty rock for the spare key.

"Hopefully they're asleep," he whispered to himself as he quietly worked the door open and tossed his soaked hoodie onto the dryer, only to halt as he noticed the kitchen lights on.

"Damn it," he muttered, mentally steeling himself for the ass chewing that was likely to occur, followed by him being smacked around. His face was still hurting from the other night when his father shoved his head into a cupboard after he thought he had insulted his cooking.

However, there was something unusual he could heard, his father was crying.

Steven Cavanaugh was a big tough guy who barely ever showed any emotion other than anger, if he's suddenly been reduced to tears then that meant something big must have happened and the possibility scared the hell out of Jake.

Feeling his heart beating harder and his breathing quicken, the teenager collapsed against the nearest wall and shut his eyes, scared out of his mind, yet knowing he had to find out what the hell was going on. Swallowing harshly he crept down the hallway and inched his way towards the kitchen.

When he entered the doorway he could only stand frozen in terror.

His mother lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Above her prone corpse, his father stood on his knees holding a gun in his hands. A broken whiskey bottle lay inches away.

"M-Mom? Mom!" Jake screamed clamping his hands to the side of his head.

Upon hearing his son's voice Steven Cavanaugh looked up to his middle son, the fires of hell burning from within his tormented soul. These weren't the actions of a drunken lout, but those of a man who had seriously lost it.

"You…"

"D-Dad…what's going on?" asked a frightened Jake.

His father stood up and moved towards him, his prominent brow furrowed in rage.

"It's your entire fault!" he rasped closing the gap between him and his son.

"Dad?" Jake asked backing himself towards the kitchen entrance, "I…I don't understand! What are you talking about?

"You made me do it!" he growled, a flash of lightning making him look more demonic as he inched towards his son, "You fucking made me do it!" he whispered, tightening his grip on the gun. "Your worthless punk ass made me do it!"

"Do what?" Jake blurted out not knowing what else to say to the madman standing before him.

"Your mother liked having a convict for a son!" he shouted viciously, "She must've liked seeing you disgrace the Cavanaugh family name! She was always sticking up for you, defending your criminal actions!" he spoke in a half-feral tone before his tone gradually lowered, "I couldn't take it anymore…I had to show her what happens when she sticks up for a criminal…I had to show you the error of your ways."

Jake's breathing increased rapidly as his focus darted back and forth between his mother's corpse and his gun-toting father.

"I'm going to do something I should've done a long time ago…" the man said aiming the gun at his son's chest.

"Dad, no!" Jake yelled and he lunged forward to grab the gun, but his dad was quicker and tried to shove him off. He had held on and the two of them engaged in a life or death wrestling match. The two of them fell to the floor as they continued struggling for the firearm.

"You made me do it! You piece of shit!" his father growled trying to wrap a hand around his throat.

"Dad, please!" Jake pleaded as he tried latching onto the older man's thick wrist.

"I'm going to kill you if it's the last thing I do!" the man yelled.

The two rolled around on the tile floor before his father was finally forced to relinquish his grip on the gun. What had started as a wrestling match soon descended into a game of 'keep away' as they kept trying to push the gun further along the soiled floor, shards of broken glass cutting into both their bodies. The older man eventually managed to roll himself on top of Jake and grabbed a large shard, slashing downward at his throat. Jake managed to move his hand at the last second and he felt a strong stinging beneath his bottom lip as the glass cut into his chin.

"You goddamned piece of shit! Why won't you fucking die?" Steve Cavanaugh screamed as he tried to choke the life out of him.

Jake gagged violently as he fought for air trying to do whatever he could to break free, but his airway was restricted by the stronger man's larger hand. He let out a strangled cry of pain as his skull was bashed against the tile floor, but he managed to get a hand around his father's throat before he could repeat, shooting his other hand out and feeling the cool steel of the gun.

He looked deep into his father's dark eyes as the man attempted to strangle the life out of him, wide with a bloodshot insanity as he dug his fingernails deeper into his son's throat.

His self-preservation kicking into overdrive, Jake impulsively shot his fist upward out of desperation and finally managed to take the bigger man off of him. Freed from the chokehold, he shot his hand backward and grabbed the pistol and raised it as he noticed his father reaching for a meat cleaver.

Squeezing his eyes shut he pulled the trigger three times, the loud bangs echoing in his ears.

There was nothing after that and he slowly opened his eyes only to be staring into his father's.

"So…cold…" Mr. Cavanaugh whispered as he looked down to the bloody holes in his chest, coughing up a stream of blood before he could register what happened. A sick gurgle escaped the man's lips before he slumped over.

"Dad?" a frightened Jake gasped; shocked by what he had just done when the man's chest didn't rise again.

"Oh god…Jake…no! What have you done?" a new voice gasped and he looked towards the kitchen entrance to see his sister Rose standing before him, her eyes wide as saucers and all the color drained from her face.

"Oh my god Rose! It's not what you think! He tried to kill me! He killed Mom!" Jake hollered back, but there was no reply, only a catatonic stare as she looked forward into nothing.

Distraught by what he had done, Jake dropped the gun and scooped up his father's car keys before storming out the front door and got the hell out of Somerset never to look back.

"_My own father, the first person I ever killed._

"_I always knew there would be a boiling point one day, but I had no idea it would end like this. Despite everything he had done to me and my family I still wonder if even he deserved such a fate._

"_After that was done I knew I had to get the hell out of Somerset and there was only one person I could think of to turn to…Ryan."_

"Jake, get down!" a voice screamed next to him and before he knew it, his older brother was pulling him to the floor just in time to avoid the cluster of automatic fire ripping apart the wall behind them.

"_I found my brother alright and so did some guys who wanted him dead."_

Ryan raised his Micro Uzi and fired blindly over the couch, yet there were no screams of pain to indicate he had hit anybody.

"What the hell did you do to piss these guys off?" Jake hollered over the rattle of automatic fire.

"Joey killed one of their boys!" the elder Cavanaugh replied before reaching up to fire another burst. The gang member called Joey lay in the entranceway of the kitchen, having taken a volley of rounds to the chest. Their rivals hadn't been satisfied with his death and were looking to kill everybody in the house.

"Ryan c'mon, we gotta fucking move!" cried out a man in a green hoodie named Harley, firing repeated blasts from his Ithaca Model 37 shotgun at their unseen attackers from the foyer's entranceway.

The elder Cavanaugh fired another burst from his machine pistol and was rewarded with the screams of a rival gangster.

"You're fucking dead!" a voice called out followed by the shatter of glass and the roar of flames, which could only mean one thing.

"Shit," Ryan muttered to himself as he slammed a fresh clip into his Micro Uzi and then reached into his pocket to hand his brother a Glock 19, "Time to nut up or shut up!"

The fire from the Molotov was rapidly spreading and Jake knew there was no other choice left. He accepted the gun and then followed his brother into the foyer, where a rival gangster kicked in the front door.

"Payback motherfucker!" the Hispanic man screamed before raising his TEC-9, only to be cut down by a shotgun blast from Harley.

"C'mon, get to the back door!" the gang member said shoving Jake towards the other kitchen entranceway.

By the time the duo had caught up to Ryan he was in the midst of gunning down two rival gang members that had crept into the townhouse's backyard and then pushing his way through a loose board in the nearby fence.

"C'mon! This way!" he shouted back.

Both Jake and Harley did as they were told and pushed their way through the loose board and chased the elder Cavanaugh brother through the alley behind them.

"Where are we going?" Jake blurted out as he struggled to keep up.

"Willow Street, we've got some guys there who can help out," Harley shouted back, "It's not far from here."

The screech of tires caught their attention and they turned to find a restored '64 Dodge 880 racing towards them, all of its passengers pointing machine pistols in their direction.

"Oh fuck," Harley shouted pumping his shotgun and managing to hit the front passenger, but the others had cut him down in a flurry of high-powered bullets.

"Jake, c'mon goddamn it!" Ryan shouted returning fire upon the rival gang's car.

The younger Cavanaugh huffed and puffed as he chased after his older brother, throwing his hands over his head while at the same time trying to keep his grip on the Glock while the rival gangsters fired at them.

"You ain't escaping Los Cazadores so easy putas!" a rival gangster called out.

"Jake just keep running!" Ryan shouted back until there was another screech of tires and the younger Cavanaugh arrived in time to see a Chevrolet Monte Carlo pulling into view with four more Cazadores and he raised his gun to let loose four shots, one of which had managed to strike a gang member sticking a MAC-10 out his window.

"Bro', I told you to keep-Gahhh!" Ryan called out just as a bullet struck his shoulder.

"Ryan!" Jake screamed running over to catch his wounded brother and trying to drag him to the safety of a nearby alley, but the elder brother was determined to get some payback for them spilling his blood.

"Save your strength," the younger Cavanaugh shouted back, "Just tell me where I can get you to safety!" he asked failing to hide his desperation.

"We're not far-Ahhh!" Ryan yelped as three bullets struck him in the side and two more tore into his leg.

"Ryan!" Jake screamed as he struggled to keep a grip on his brother, but he was unable to stand.

"Jake…you'll have to leave me!" the elder brother gasped coughing up blood.

"No! I'm not leaving you!" Jake shouted back, remembering his failures to save Milo, Ashley and their mother.

"Do it!" his brother growled, "I'm only gonna slow you down…please…I'd rather one of us made it out alive than no one at all…"

"No way," Jake protested as he made an abrupt right turn, "You're my brother and you've always looked out for me!"

"Just shut up and save yourself!" Ryan Cavanaugh gasped, using his remaining strength to shove his little brother away.

"There they are!" a voice called out from behind and Jake looked up to see the four Cazadores stepping into view. Immediately the four men raised their guns and he raised his Glock to return fire.

A firestorm of carnage erupted in the back alley as gunfire was exchanged on both sides and when the smoke cleared the four Cazadores lay in a bloody cluster and Ryan Cavanaugh lay on his back look into the nighttime sky, having thrown himself in front of his brother.

Somehow he was still alive and coughing up blood. Hearing his brother's weak gasps for air, Jake knelt down to hold his hand and looked into his dark eyes.

"Oh god…Ryan, I'm so sorry…" the teenager gasped as he could feel the life slipping from his brother.

The elder brother tried to say "No," but his final word came out a bloody gurgle when his mouth gorged. He looked into his sibling's eyes one final time before his head rolled limply to the side.

"_He told me to save myself, but I couldn't leave him behind after everything he had done for me._

"_Damn it! I was too slow…again. I failed to save my best friend, my girlfriend, my mother and now my brother, all because I was too fucking slow to act. Somebody up there sure must have loved watching me suffer to put me through all this bullshit."_

"Cesar," he heard a weak voice calling out.

Jake looked up from his brother to find one of the gunned down figures beginning to stir, a kid around his age with his abdominal area colored a deep crimson. He was reaching over for another one of the guys, a young man who was clad in a blue button up shirt with his face obscured by a matching bandana.

"Cesar," the wounded man repeated crawling towards the lifeless figure, unable to move his legs, "Bro…oh shit!"

The wounded man rolled onto his side to face Jake, "You fucking bastard! You killed my brother!"

Jake said nothing and only glared hatefully at the crippled man, who by now had started crawling towards the Colt M1911 resting on the pavement in front of him. Before the man could grab it he stepped forth and brought his foot down on top of it, pointing the Glock in his face.

"You should be one to talk," he spat training his gun on the man's forehead, "Your brother murdered my brother. What's your excuse for me not killing you?"

The gangster didn't respond, his dark eyes wide in fright and his breaths slow and ragged.

"_What are you waiting for? He helped kill your brother. Blow his fucking head off!" _a dark, malicious voice called out in Jake's head.

"_Don't do it. There's been enough bloodshed for one night. You've left him a cripple and he will have to live with it for the rest of his life, that's bad enough for him," _a calmer, rational voice called out.

"_He needs to suffer just like his murdering brother! Send a message to those Cazadores!" _the evil voice cried out.

"_No, it will make you no better than him. You'll just have more blood on your hands," _the calm voice spoke.

"_Do it! Avenge your brother!"_

"_No, you don't need anybody else hunting you down after what you've been through."_

"_He's a murdering scumbag. Kill him and end it all!"_

"_You would only be bringing more misery upon yourself. Leave him be, he'll never be able to hurt anybody else ever again."_

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Jake screamed through gritted teeth and finally squeezed the trigger, only for the gun to click.

The Glock had jammed, yet the wounded man screamed as if the bullet had been fired, gasping loudly and feeling all over his upper body when he felt no stinging sensation. He looked up to Jake, his eyes still wide in trepidation as the tears began streaming down his face.

"Oh god no…please don't! Please don't!" he cried in terror.

Sudden pangs of humanity struck the teen as he looked down into the man's eyes and began questioning himself if he would have been doing.

Would two wrongs have made a right?

There was no time to ponder as the pounding bass of Latin hip-hop grew closer and he knew it would only be a matter of time before the other Cazadores showed up. He turned on his heel and ran away into the night leaving the crippled man behind.

"_I still remember the look of horror in that guy's eyes and in hindsight I'm reminded we weren't so much different. He was around my age and he too was a scared kid who had lost his brother to a cruel fate._

"_He got lucky that night, but I still wonder sometimes if I had made the right decision in letting him live, or should I have ended his suffering that was likely to follow?_

"_Heh, guess I didn't learn much from it if I ended up becoming a hitman._

"_It wasn't long before I found Ryan's buddies and they did what they could to help, giving me a car, money, clothes and anything else I needed to get the hell outta California._

"_I drifted on until that night in eastern Arizona when I stopped by that dive bar hoping I could lose that cop who thought I looked familiar, only to run into a snake pit filled with some bikers looking to start trouble._

"_In my sorry state I was the perfect target for them and if it wouldn't have been for Viper and the other O'Bannon boys I would have died that night. Goddamn it, I can't believe I've gotta thank that two-faced bastard for something…"_

Great warmth suddenly washed over him and Jake opened his eyes, finding himself lying face down in the grass, yet he felt no pain and rose to his feet stretching his limbs out.

He felt very nice as the bright sunlight beamed down upon him and he looked up into the cloudless sky before him, taking a deep breath to inhale the natural aroma of the pine trees around him and with it, the smell of barbecued food wafting over from nearby.

"I don't know where I am, but I like it," Jake muttered to himself as he saw the nearby lake and walked over to it. Looking down at his reflection he saw he was still wearing the same filthy tattered clothes he wore when he was knocked out. He knelt down to splash some fresh cool water onto his face and began scrubbing his grimy hands, wanting to take advantage while he had it.

The laughter of children and the barking of a dog distracted the hired gun from his current task.

"Kids, the burgers are ready! You'd better come and get them while they're hot!" a woman called out.

"That voice!" Jake said rising to his feet and running towards the direction it came.

He scaled a hill and looked down towards a picnic area only to stand in stunned silence. Before him was something that should not have been there.

Passing out plates on a spread out blanket was his beloved Ashley and she looked like she had aged slightly. Next to her an adorable infant girl crawled on the blanket and she lovingly scooped her up to give her a kiss on the head.

"We're coming Mom!" a young boy called back.

Rushing towards the picnic area was a dark-haired boy of roughly ten years followed by two more children, one a slightly younger boy who was also dark-haired and the other a girl with hair and eyes matching those of Ashley. What stood out to him the most was that both of the boys looked like exactly like him and his younger brother Jason did when they were little. One by one the kids sat down around the blanket and were handed platefuls of food.

Having given each of the kids their lunch Ashley called over her shoulder, "Oh Jake, sweetie! You'd better get over here and get yourself a nice juicy burger before your little hellions eat them all up on you!"

"I'm coming honey!" a masculine voice responded.

For Jake Cavanaugh it was like he was looking in the mirror. The man approaching was a mirror image of himself, but yet it was also dramatically different at the same time.

This alternate version of Jake Cavanaugh was clean-shaven and properly groomed, had no tattoos, was dressed in nice clothing and overall, appeared much happier.

"It's me," the hitman muttered as he watched the alternate reality version of himself leading a German Shepherd, the kind of dog he had always wanted growing up, over to the picnic area and taking a seat between Ashley and the oldest boy.

"Daddy!" the older girl called out running over to his alternate reality self and throwing her arms around him.

"There's my sweet little princess," the alternate Jake spoke, hugging his daughter back and kissing her on the forehead.

Jake could only watch from a distance as the family dined happily before him without a care in the world. He couldn't help but feel a sense of envy as this had always been the perfect loving family he yearned for growing up. Yet he also couldn't help but feel great warmth at what he saw before him.

"_Maybe this is what was supposed to have been. Maybe this is what my life would have been like had Ashley lived. Maybe I would've never gone off and become a hitman if she had survived. God my life could've been so much better if she was still around and we'd gotten married. Looks like I was destined to have kids after all and furthermore, given them the happy childhood I never had growing up. To think how one woman could have changed my life so much…"_

He could only watch as his alternate self leaned over to kiss Ashley, but before their lips could meet there was a sudden flash and Jake cried out as he felt his arms yanked backwards and his legs being pulled in opposite directions before he was hoisted off the ground in one swift motion.

"What gives?" he shouted trying to free his limbs, only to experience great pain as he did. Waving his arms in front of him he saw the strings tied around them. "What the hell is going on now?"

An icy laugh answered his inquiry and he flew into a furious rage when he recognized the voice.

"Wesker!" he hollered looking up to see the treacherous former S.T.A.R.S. captain towering over him with a control bar which the strings were attached to.

"Yes Jake, now you see yourself for what you truly have been all along. You were nothing more than my personal puppet, mine to use and abuse at my own convenience," he snickered playfully, "You should've accepted my offer Mr. Cavanaugh, because like any true puppet master…" the madman pulled out a pair of scissors, "…I can cut your strings at any time!"

With a snip of the scissors, Jake was cut free and found himself falling further into the void of nothingness, until the mutated William Birkin appeared with claws ready.

"No!" the hitman screamed as the bubbling monster drew its massive arm back and took a swing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Okay at this point it's probably debatable if some of you are still with me at this point, some of you probably having thrown yourself out the nearest window by now for having 48 hours of your life taken away from you! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I really wanted to do what I could to help all of you get inside Jake's head and really get to understand a lot of the bullshit he's gone through in his life and I had a lot of ground to cover, so I hope this helps!

As always read and review (If you still can't by this point). This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	51. Ch 50: Flames of Vengeance

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: You are not hallucinating people; this chapter is FAR shorter than the last installment!

Chapter 50: Flames of Vengeance

Cold hard steel was all he could feel, harsh and unforgiving like the touch of Death itself.

Muffled sounds rang out as his mind swam through a sea of nothingness. Black was all he saw in his state of unconsciousness, until the subdued sensations began increasing in volume and the abyss began to rattle and it was there Jake Cavanaugh found himself forcibly stirred back into consciousness.

A metallic boom resounded and a vibration traveled along the ground, one that was too large to ignore. The muscles in his face began to twitch and he could feel his eyes trying to flutter open, but he soon squeezed them shut as he was met by a blinding white light.

The crunching of feet upon a metal surface soon infiltrated his field of hearing, followed by heavy breaths amplified by a gas mask. A rifle cocked and a reactionary measure forced him to open his eyes all the way, only to be met by an overwhelming assault of blurry misshapen objects. Soon his smell would come back to him and his nose crinkled as he took in the putrid stench of decay, and then the feeling returned to his tongue, enabling him to taste the coppery bitterness.

The sensory overload caused his breathing to hasten and he could feel his muscles tighten, clenching his fists together as another loud thud caused him to spasm.

"Hey, I think our 'friend' over there is waking up," a voice called out, sounding like it was echoing from afar. It was then he tried to slow his breathing, knowing he _had_ to find out who the other person in the room was – no 'persons.' He could hear the rapid breathing elsewhere in the room.

"We can't worry about him. We're under attack!" the other faceless individual spoke up, followed by a loud screech that almost sounded like something being scratched, another grating assault which caused the fallen hitman to spasm and nearly choke on the bitter substance in his mouth.

Slowing his breathing, the hired gun again willed himself to open his eyes, albeit slower.

The light was beginning to dissipate and he could make out cool hues around him, like a kaleidoscope of blue and silver, soon joined by white, then black, then red and so forth and shapes soon began to take solid form and he noticed a row of straight lines in front of him and as things slowly began to refocus he could notice they were what looked like the bars of a prison cell.

Another loud boom came from outside and was soon joined by a cluster of muffled pops, ending with a primordial roar sounding above all.

"Damn it, we've gotta do something!" the first voice spoke, the echoes fading and coming to let him know the person was right near him.

"No, we've gotta stay here and guard the prisoner!" the second person replied as Jake's eyes began to focus and he could make out a black figure taking shape before him, looking almost shadow-like in the ocean of colors.

"But it's right on top of us," the first man shouted as several loud clangs rang out from above, creating little earthquakes that left Jake squeezing his eyes shut as he could finally feel his head rolling to the side. He was starting to feel frustrated knowing he couldn't make out what was around him. He tried to raise a hand, but it felt like it was weighed down by a ton of bricks.

"We have our orders!" the other man snapped as Jake slowly reopened his eyes and could see another figure slowly taking shape, a distinctly human outline with two burning red dots in its head.

His eyes blinking in succession before they finally stayed open he watched as everything began taking shape before him and was finally able to make out the cages near him and the crumpled heaps inside. With everything finally beginning to focus he could see a figure standing with his back in front of him and the other being across from him, a man clad in full combat gear with a gas mask concealing his identity and an assault rifle in hand.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he recognized the man, more appropriately his uniform and then everything came back to him like a tidal wave: his arrival in Springvale, the face to face encounter with Albert Wesker followed by his double cross, him putting a bullet in the treacherous leech's face, the battle through the streets and lastly, the reemergence of the supposedly dead supervisor and the beat down near the stream.

"Bas…tard…" he quietly muttered, the blood dribbling from the corner of his lip and the burning of his cheek, followed by the sticky dryness of his tongue.

He looked over to the bars before him as another loud boom sounded and both men jumped with their weapons pointing towards the ceiling. It was then he could feel his fingers and toes moving, followed by some feeling returning to his arms, a tingling feeling one gets when their limb falls asleep.

_"Dasher, how are things holding up in there?" _a garbled voice called out over a radio.

"He's regaining consciousness, but we can't just sit in here with him the entire time!" the first commando spoke up as Jake could finally feel the feeling returning to his body and with it, the pain of the beating he received at the hands of Wesker.

His entire body quaked with pain and yet burned at the same time, stiffness lingering as he flexed his fingers and his bare toes, the cold of the steel sending shockwaves from the heels of his feet throughout his body. Someone had removed his boots while he was knocked out.

_"Hold your position!" _the voice barked as more gunfire and screams rang out over the transmission.

_"What the hell is happening out there?" _Jake asked himself, legible thoughts returning to his psyche, _"Have the monsters come back?"_

There was another metal crunch from above and the commandos stood anxiously with their guns aimed at the ceiling, their breathing intensifying.

The hitman felt the coldness of the steel against his torso and it was then he realized they removed both his shirt and bulletproof vest.

_"Damn it, where the hell are you?" _he asked himself as the strength returned to his arm and he shot his hand out, gripping one of the bars before him. It still hurt like a bitch to move, but he was regaining the power to work through it and following another labored effort he rolled over onto his side and let out another grunt of pain.

"Hey, shut up in there!" the soldier standing before him barked, turning around and smacking the butt of his rifle against the bars, sending him falling backward. There was another loud boom and the masked man returned his attention to the ceiling, several dents appearing as a very large figure ran above them, more muffled explosions and gunshots coming from outside.

Jake Cavanaugh's senses had fully returned and he bumped his head as he tried sitting up and then looked around to find himself locked in a cage like he was an animal.

"What the fuck?" he muttered pushing himself into a corner and looking over to the cage nearest to him, which held what looked like a warthog, except that its tusks had been extended outrageous proportions and had several smaller spikes protruding from them, in addition to most of the skin having peeled away from its body and a large bubbling mass covering the back of its thick neck.

The entire space he was in was lined with cages, some of which carried monsters he was familiar with like those diseased dogs, monstrous apes and ginormous frogs, but also some that were completely new to him including what almost looked like a bipedal humanoid shark with arms and webbed hands similar to those frog-like Hunters, a hairless lynx with elongated claws and fangs, an overgrown crab whose carapace was riddled with bullets, and another skinless brute that reminded him of a Licker, but with a gaping maw left open in a silent scream, longer limbs with equally longer talons and spikes sticking out of its back.

_"Shit, where the fuck am I? Some kind of laboratory?" _Jake asked himself as he stared at a grizzly bear missing large patches of fur and covered in red and green tumors. _"Where the fuck did they get all these freaks?" _he thought, knowing he had never seen any of these monsters back in Raccoon and wondered what else could be lurking out there if this outbreak was truly as widespread as thought. Whatever the case was, all of the B.O.W.'s appeared to be dead and of no direct threat, yet was still unnerving to be within their presence.

Another loud boom came from above and the commandos jumped as a small hole was drilled through the ceiling, the tip of an enormous claw having finally penetrated. A second strike followed and the rend grew wider in diameter, the gunfire and explosions much clearer followed by the cries of those outside.

"Use those fucking freeze rounds goddamn it!" a soldier screamed.

"It's too fucking fast!" another shouted back, followed by a blood curdling shriek.

"You son of a bitch!" a third voice yelled, accompanied by the rattle of a heavy machinegun.

An animalistic shriek responded to the soldiers' calls, one which was louder and deeper than anything he had ever heard, something he could describe as a cross between one of those Hunters and the one-eyed brute that stalked him and Jill. A roar followed and there were several more agonized screams from its human opponents, an intense heat wafting in through the tear.

There was another loud thump as the unseen beast again leapt on top of the space they were in, striking the surface and expanding the tear in the steel surface, a gray arm lined with four three foot-long claws cutting through like it was a tin can. Both commandos sprang into action and let loose upon the mutant appendage, raining black oily blood into the narrow space until the claw retreated from view, only for a purplish tentacle to shoot down and impale one of the commandos with the barb on the end, pulling him through the opening fast enough to tear his head off on one of the sharpened edges.

The other commando was knocked backwards and landed right in front of the cage. Seeing his opportunity, Jake shot his arms through the bars and clamped down on the man's neck, tugging violently until he was able to pull his head to the side and was rewarded with a loud crack. With his guard taken care of he reached through and felt along the man's supply belt until he grasped a pair of keys and ripped them away, making his way over to the door and sliding three of them in until he found the right one and liberated himself from the cramped quarters.

It hurt like a bitch to stand upright and Jake grunted loudly as he stretched out his tired limbs and brought his hands down to massage his aching lower back and then rub his throbbing neck, compliments of Albert Wesker.

He reached down to inspect the dead man's body as the sounds of battle raged around him, finding two cans of first-aid spray, some blue and white pills similar to the ones he had seen George Hamilton crafting, a digital compass, and some spare clips for both the man's rifle and sidearm, along with a silencer for the latter.

"Score," Jake muttered to himself as he took one of the first-aid cans and sprayed all over his exposed torso, feeling the burning that followed along with the stickiness around any cuts that had remained open. He stood in place and waited for his muscles to relax and some of the pain to ebb from his system before he popped one of the recovery pills and then reached down to grab his tattered shirt, slipping on his Kevlar vest last. His boots were lying nearby and he reached down to pull them on before taking the dead commando's belt and placing it around his waist.

The man's weapons were next and he found a combat knife that would slip into the holster around his shin before taking his H&K MK23 and then his Colt M4A1 assault rifle, both of which were equipped with laser sights.

Finally armed again, the hitman crept towards the set of double doors at the end, but not before finding his trusty katana and quickly strapping it to his back. He placed his ear to the double doors and listened for the muffled sounds of battle from outside and kept the rifle at the ready as he undid the latch, ready to shoot his way out if he had to.

_"Here goes nothing," _he said to himself, taking a deep breath followed by the mental countdown from three he had gone through countless times back in Raccoon. Pulling the latch out of place he kicked the double doors open and was instantly met by the sight of blood spilled everywhere.

More of those commandos littered the pavement and surrounding grass, all of them horribly dismembered by the unseen attacker. When he looked beyond what lay at his feet he noticed a few more of those black unmarked Humvees used by the commandos and the charred bodies lying around them, the one directly before him with a smoldering body occupying its turret.

"It's not going down!" another commando cried out before there was another wet slash and a black-clad body was sent flying backwards, landing on the aforementioned Humvee's hood with a large crater in its chest.

Jake was surprised a second later as another commando rounded one of the opened double doors, the man himself equally surprised and raising his rifle to fire, but the hitman was quicker and slapped the barrel away before delivering a sweep kick that knocked the masked man from his feet and finished him off with a burst of armor piercing rounds to the face.

"Use those fucking freeze rounds damn it!" a deep voice called out again.

Not wanting to be spotted by any more of those masked spooks Jake bolted forward and took cover behind a Humvee left partially on the road and crept along the side until he was able to get a better view of the battle occurring before him and finally lay his eyes upon the beast that had been causing all of this carnage.

The creature again leapt onto the semi-trailer he had emerged from (which was disguised as a generic transport truck belonging to 'Rockingham Transportation, Inc.') and shot a gust of fire from its maw, immolating two commandos equipped with Milkor MGL grenade launchers.

"Holy shit," Jake whispered to himself noticing how the B.O.W. was able to leap around with great agility for its size. This monster stood roughly seven feet tall and had the musculature of a Tyrant, yet the face, claws and stooped posture of a Hunter, its ability to breathe fire being something completely new for the creations he had seen in action. For now, he could only be thankful it this new beast hadn't taken notice of him.

_"Now to get the fuck outta here," _he thought as he watched the mutant's back be riddled by rounds from another Humvee turret, only for the monster to turn around and leap onto the vehicle's hood, slicing the gunner into three separate pieces.

Darkness was falling fast over the horizon and the area was lit only by the fires raging as a result of the Tyrant-Hunter hybrid's rampage.

A vast forest awaited the hitman to his right and the sight of it made him grimace.

The surrounding area took his mind back to those newspaper clippings he read about the murders in the woods precipitating the eventual demise of Raccoon City. It was the absolute last place he would have wanted to be and the thought of it left him wondering if there were still any of those beasts lurking about.

Then again, he looked back to the ongoing massacre and the commandos' futile attempt to subdue the inhuman creature.

"Guess I don't have much choice," Jake whispered as he peered into the backseat of the Humvee he hid against, only to find himself eating his words a second later.

A pair of thermal imaging goggles rested on the seat, left untouched by the ensuing skirmish. Jake was familiar with how to use them thanks to training from Buster and eagerly snatched the pair. He tried not to get too far ahead of himself, knowing of the possible dangers lurking in the darkness, but he felt more confident with the newly-acquired goggles and leapt over the nearby guard rail, sliding down the hillside and towards the woods.

"Cavanaugh's escaping!" a voice called out and he looked over his shoulder to see one of the commandos raising his rifle.

"Damn it," he hissed just as the dirt and trees around him were torn apart by high caliber rifle rounds, trying to ignore the men firing upon him and kept pressing forth until he was sure he was out of sight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A wet splatter resounded next to Gabriel Karkian, forcing him to bring a gloved hand up to wipe off his goggles.

_"How could they have been so goddamned reckless?" _he asked himself as he loaded some fresh nitrogen rounds into the M203 grenade launcher attached to his M4 carbine, which should have been like kryptonite to the Tyrant Zeta, but if only the B.O.W. would stay in one place long enough.

The monstrosity he battled was a crossbreed between the T-002 Type Tyrant and the MA-121 class Hunter, combining the former's strength and durability with the latter's agility and killer instinct, adding the ability to breathe fire into the mix. The result was a superhuman killing machine unlike no other that had already managed to wipe out two-thirds of his convoy.

Upon Jake Cavanaugh's capture, Karkian and his men were charged with transporting the hitman to a secret facility in North Dakota, along with some Umbrella B.O.W. samples they managed to acquire from a laboratory hidden beneath the outskirts of Springvale. Meanwhile, Wesker would stay behind to supervise the small mountain community's destruction with a series of explosive charges rigged throughout the sewer system.

_"I always wondered how they were going to explain that to the general public, especially with what's already going on in Raccoon City. You can only say there were so many radioactive leaks before people start getting suspicious and developing their own conspiracy theories," _the grizzled commander thought to himself, knowing the briefings they received explained the town had been built on top of a series of old coalmines, yet he remained skeptical if they would buy it as a plausible cause.

_"No time to think about that now," _he told himself as he peeked around an overturned Humvee, watching as the Tyrant Zeta leapt atop another one of the generic semis they were using to blend in with the general populace, the trailers heavily reinforced on the inside to keep their cargo at bay. So far the beast had managed to rip apart two of the trailers and did considerable damage to the other two, in addition to wrecking several of the Humvees providing security detail.

The B.O.W. was being rattled from the front by a combination of machinegun and assault rifle fire and he watched as the beast drew its head back, a telltale sign it was preparing to spray another stream of fire upon its attackers. Whatever the case, the beast was finally still for once and he seized the opportunity to fire a nitrogen round into its back, the round shattering upon impact and splashing a section of its ample back upper back with liquid nitrogen and quickly freezing the patch of skin in place.

The monster was visibly affected and shrieked loudly in pain, thrashing its arms wildly as it tried to break the icy blotch. With his target finally showing some signs of pain it was a welcome sight to the Commander and he fired another round which caught the beast in its shoulder blade, inviting another cry of agony.

"Got you now freak!" another commando called out as he withdrew an experimental weapon inspired by Umbrella's mine launcher prototype, which riddled the Tyrant Zeta's scaly carapace with a series of darts, all of which would explode in rapid succession and send it falling to the ground.

"Get that net launcher ready," Commander Karkian called out to another subordinate. Wesker wanted the Tyrant Zeta taken alive, yet he wondered if it would be possible after everything he just witnessed. He didn't care what the supervisor said; if it came down to it he would kill the B.O.W.

A commando cautiously approached as his colleagues fired into the fallen Tyrant and pulled out what looked like a cannon, taking a knee and firing a net to ensnare the subject before pushing a button which channeled an electrified current into the monster's body.

"Alright, I think we've got it-" the soldier spoke up before the B.O.W. shot out a barbed tentacle which pierced his chest.

Freed from its bondage, the Tyrant Zeta leapt back to its feet and brought its claws down onto another commando before charging forth and impaling a machine gunner with its other claw.

Commander Karkian grunted in anger and fired another freeze round at his target, this one sailing over the monster's shoulder. Utilizing its hearing and sense of touch, the B.O.W. whirled around and was able to directly pinpoint the veteran soldier as the one who fired the round and turned its attention towards him, its claws digging into the pavement as it stalked towards him, ignoring the barrage of rounds being fired into its back.

The grizzled warrior pumped the grenade launcher and prepared to fire another round, but the Tyrant was somehow able to sense his motive and shot a barbed tentacle directed at his head. Karkian barely rolled out of the way and fired another barrage, which the behemoth would raise its claws to deflect.

With a roar of rage, the Tyrant Zeta leapt into the air and brought its claw down like a sledgehammer, which the Commander would again barely avoid and this time end up losing his rifle after the beast stepped on it. His only other means of defense was his H&K MK23 sidearm, which would be next to worthless against this kind of monster, and his P-Epsilon grenades – shit; he almost forgot he had those!

An explosive device filled with a special anti-B.O.W. gas, the Commander quickly reached down and grabbed one of the grenades. Rolling over onto his back he found the brute hovering over him with its maw agape and its scalding drool dripping onto him.

With no time to waste he pulled the pin and chucked it into the abyss, a loud gulp sounding as it traveled to the beast's stomach. A muffled explosion came from within and the monster belched out a cloud of green gas before it began convulsing violently.

Commander Karkian laughed at the small accomplishment as he backpedaled. Victory was in sight and all he needed to do was find some means of killing the weakened abomination. He crawled along the pavement searching for any means, eventually happening across the body of a commando whose guts hung from a large slash in his midsection, the shimmering barrel of a Desert Eagle sticking out from underneath. He scampered over to the dead man and shoved his corpse aside, scooping up the gun and was ready to take aim when there was a loud tearing of flesh.

He looked up to see none other than Albert Wesker standing on the creature's shoulders, kneeling down with his hands tearing into its head and with a might yank, ripping its brain out with the stem still attached.

"Looks like my timing was impeccable," the supervisor chuckled casually tossing the mutant's brain aside.

"I had him right where I wanted him," Karkian replied pushing himself back to his feet and dusting his vest off.

"Sure you did," Wesker replied sardonically, "If you did you wouldn't be in this situation to begin with," he said motioning to the aftermath and then looking over to the hillside to see a few commandos making their descent towards the forest.

"Where are they going?" he demanded, walking over to an exhausted trooper braced against one of the Humvees.

"Cavanaugh escaped," the man replied motioning towards the semi-trailer with its doors hanging open.

Wesker furrowed his brow towards the young man and then made his way over to the trailer, finding one man lying outside with his masked face torn apart by automatic rounds and then looking inside to find one of the guards slumped against the cage that once held the hired gun, his head left hanging at an awkward angle. The cage door was open and the man's supplies were gone.

"What the hell do you mean he got away?" he heard Karkian shouting towards the commando and turned around to find the grizzled veteran pinning his subordinate against the Humvee's hood with his knife to the man's throat.

"He must've escaped while we were fighting the Tyrant Zeta! There was so much chaos around us we couldn't tell what was going on! He must've killed Hale and made his move while we were distracted," the commando protested.

Commander Karkian grunted in disgust and shoved the man aside, approaching the guard rail and looking down to see his men filtering into the forest in search of their elusive target.

"_We are commencing a full scale sweep of the perimeter," _a voice called out over his radio.

"Keep up the search," Commander Karkian spoke into his radio and then switched frequencies, "Point Spartacus, come in! Repeat, Point Spartacus, come in! Over!"

"_Spartacus reporting," _Comm. Officer Savitch replied.

"Be advised. Cavanaugh has escaped and could be heading your way. Have your men ready at once," Karkian reported.

"_Understood, recalling all patrols to base," _Savitch replied.

Another question suddenly popped into the Commander's head, "Have the prisoners provided any useful intel?"

"_Nothing other than what we already know Commander. Aside from that, nothing of use," _the communications officer reported.

"Very well, do what you have to in order to make them talk. Whatever you do afterward is up to you," the veteran spoke.

"_Very well, Savitch out!"_

Commander Karkian returned his attention to the remaining soldiers, "Alright, let's get this mess cleaned up. As far as we know they're still expecting us over at the Bear Claw facility."

He then noticed a few surviving snipers standing around, "You three, post a lookout. If you see any civvies headed this way you have authorization to use lethal force. We can't have the public finding out about this shipment."

The snipers nodded and went about their way and he clapped his hands, "C'mon ladies, let's get moving. We don't have much time. We'll deal with the bodies later," he said as the survivors began scooping up their dead colleagues and loading them into the trailers.

"Well you seem to be doing a pretty good job of handling this situation here Commander, so I best be on my way," he heard Wesker speak up, but as he turned around the enigmatic supervisor was gone.

"I hate it when he does that," Karkian muttered to himself looking out to see his colleague having leapt gracefully over to the closest tree and then leaping to another like a squirrel and out of sight.

For now he would focus on the cleanup effort and when the time would come he would hunt down Jake Cavanaugh.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment of "Reborn," where in this chapter I took the time to introduce a few brand new B.O.W.'s I plan to further expand upon in other projects.

The "Tyrant Zeta" was to an extent inspired by the Geckos from "Fallout: New Vegas" and its ability to breathe fire was inspired by the Fire Gecko.

What happens next? Tune in for the next installment as always and don't forget to read and review for this one! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	52. Ch 51: Into the Forest Beyond

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Ah yes, I have returned and I return with the EPICNESS which you are familiar with in terms of length!

When we last left off our beloved antihero was making his way into the forest beyond (hence the title of this chapter) and now we will see how he copes as he is left alone in an area filled with highly-trained, highly deadly commandos.

On with the story!

Chapter 51: Into the Forest Beyond

The last shreds of daylight were vanishing beyond the canopy of oak and fir trees around him and he watched as the purplish-blue sky gradually receded to the blackness of nightfall. A cold breeze grew into a harsh, stinging wind whistling through the branches like an eerie voice beckoning him forth. The tall snake grass he waded through whipped around beneath him and from it a blanket of red and orange leaves emerged sticking to his tattered pant legs.

_"Where do I go from here?" _Jake Cavanaugh asked himself as he knelt behind a large rock in the growing darkness, looking down to the digital compass now strapped to his left wrist, the special nightlight feature telling him he was currently pointing north.

"Guess I'll be going north then," he whispered to himself pulling the thermal vision goggles over his eyes, his nighttime surroundings becoming a kaleidoscope of different hues. There were lingering signs of heat signatures to suggest somebody had been through the area recently and he ducked low to the ground, pulling out the silencer and screwing it onto the H&K MK23.

Looking around for any threats and finding none, he proceeded towards a small trail cleared through the shrubs and trees, careful to avoid snapping any twigs and minimize the crunching of the leaves beneath his feet. Once he approached the opening, he knelt down to a knee and waved the rifle's barrel around for any threats, again there was nothing and he slowly proceeded through the dirt trail, careful to avoid any wet spots that would leave telltale footprints behind.

The scent of pine needles drifted into his nostrils; putting him a little more at ease as he proceeded down a narrow trail dotted by toppled trees and large rocks. He moved in a rigid formation with his head up and a death grip on his rifle, ready to fire when needed. Years of training had given him an unbreakable sense of discipline in these situations and he kept it honed to a fine point. In his chosen profession, letting your guard down either meant a trip to the nearest crowbar hotel or signing his own death warrant.

_"No way in hell I'm ready to make that trip, not with as far as I've come," _he thought to himself as he stopped halfway and again knelt down, keeping his ears open for any threats. The moon had risen high into the nighttime sky, yet beneath his goggles it had taken on unnatural shades as opposed to its natural silver glow.

Normally the moon had been a sight of comfort for a 'night owl' like him. It was in the darkness he did his best work, the night providing him the much needed cover he needed whether he was sneaking up on a target with his hand upon the pummel of his blade, ready to hack somebody's head clean off, or he was lying flat on his stomach behind a sniper rifle, the crosshairs trained on his target. Under the black of nightfall he was able to make his all too precious exit after his subject was dispatched, oftentimes using the silver radiance as his guide to safety.

Now he felt cold under its glow and with that came the hollowness of hunger, as well as the forced realization of how tired he was, stifling a yawn as he looked back to earth.

Normally when a mission was over the first thing he would do was go to the nearest bar and drink in victory with his comrades, but now he had no idea what he would do to celebrate, if this could even be considered a triumph to begin with.

_"Sure, I'm alive, but I would be walking away from this with nothing. No ten million dollars, no respect of my peers, no allies left alive, nothing," _he told himself.

It was something he wasn't accustomed to, could this have been considered far too immature of him? Especially when he took into consideration with anybody else who could have survived these calamities and in the process losing far more than he could have ever imagined.

Now he was a man left without a purpose – no, he did have a purpose left, to survive.

Again the hitman found his mind drifting back to the 'what if' scenario if the virus had spread beyond the confines of these small mountain communities and was already infecting the rest of the world as he stood alone in the vast forest. Again, the millions of questions washed over him like a tidal wave.

_"What if society has already collapsed? The government and the military are they still trying to do something about this, or are they walking amongst the zombies themselves, driven by the mindless urge to feed, to spread their disease?_

_ "What if there are still survivors lurking out there? Have they banded together for the greater good? Have they fallen to madness and are out to kill and rape everything that's still live? Or are there a bunch of lone wolves out there trying to make it on their own?_

_ "If the government is still standing, have they gotten wind of the T-Virus' existence? Do they have their scientists trying to work on a cure?"_

Jake grunted loudly as the questions overloaded his brain and he clamped his free hand to the side of his head, doing what he could to shut this surplus of information out of his mind before he would be driven insane.

_"C'mon Jake, you've gotta keep your head on straight goddamn it," _a voice assured him, _"You still have your mission to survive this dump and get the hell back to civilization. There have to be people somewhere that can help, or need to be helped themselves. There are always survivors to every great natural disaster. You're not going to become some nameless tally on a chalkboard. As long as you breathe, you move."_

He took the voice's words to heart and kept moving forward and was about to step over a fallen tree trunk obscuring his path, when the hitman suddenly caught himself in mid-step and quickly backed off as he caught sight of a small square-shaped object that burned brightly under his goggles.

"The fuck?" Jake asked himself temporarily lifting his goggles and seeing the traces of moonlight glinting off a small square-shaped metallic object.

_"Shit, that's gotta be a landmine," _he thought, taking a couple steps back to make sure there were no proximity sensors that would set it off.

The explosive's presence told him that there were other people nearby and whoever they were, they must have had something to hide.

_"Unless somebody was expecting me," _the hired gun told himself.

The only people he could think of with such technology military grade hardware were the H.C.F. commandos.

At this point there would be no turning back. He had been spotted just as he was making his escape from the convoy and he was certain the troopers were still tracking him. Either way, he was boxed in with nowhere else to go but forward into a possible death trap he would have to fight his way through if he had to, his iron will being what has kept him alive all this time.

Carefully stepping around the landmine, Jake continued along the crude winding trail and down a steep hill, coming to a halt when he noticed more explosives thanks to his goggles, which the people who had planted them attempted to conceal beneath dead leaves.

The volume of explosives told him he may have been getting closer to something and the hitman felt his heart thumping harder in his chest, wondering if there was anybody watching him from the shadows. Jake knelt down and began crouch walking along the path, hoping to use the surrounding shrubbery as a means of cover from anybody who could have been lurking off to the side.

"What have we got here?" he whispered to himself as his goggles picked up faint heat signatures and he quietly proceeded forward, once again doing what he could to avoid making too much noise.

A lone figure stood in the distance, yet the man didn't move when Jake realized he should have stepped into the man's field of vision, especially if he was wearing thermal goggles. He figured the nameless man must have had his back turned to him, as if he were standing guard. The commando was far enough away from the landmines to avoid being caught up in any traps, Jake thought to himself as he noticed a nearby log that had been cleanly sawn through by a chainsaw, which he could have thrown onto a mine just to rattle the man, but then he realized where there was one soldier, there had to be others.

The hitman then looked down towards the dirt path, noticing all the fallen twigs, dead leaves, gravel and the puddle right behind the lone trooper and the only way around it would have been through the shrubs outlining the crude trail, not to forget about the aforementioned landmines. There would have been no way Jake would have been able to sneak up on the guy, and the trees' branches were too high up for him to climb and drop down to surprise the creep.

His only option left was to drop the man from a distance, but thankfully he had a solution for that as he withdrew his silenced sidearm, the red laser sight finding its way to the back of the man's head.

A breeze began to pick up and ruffled the tree branches and sending leaves blowing against the hitman, a wet one finding its way onto his goggles, raising a hand to swat it away. Jake brought both hands up in an attempt to steady his H&K MK23, his aim thrown off course by the breeze. He did what he could to slow his breathing as he tried keeping a firm grip on his gun, his palms feeling hot beneath his gloves and his trigger finger feeling itchy in irritation, wanting to squeeze the trigger. He kept his head straight and his body stiffened as he took a final deep breath.

He pulled the trigger, just as a flying object darted across his field of vision and caused him to flinch, throwing off his aim at the last crucial second as a muted _'phunt' _came from the barrel and the man cried out in pain.

Jake's eyes widened in bewilderment as the man collapsed to his knees clutching his shoulder, hearing the clomping of boots from nearby telling him there were more soldiers nearby.

_"How in the blue hell did I miss the shot? I fucking had that guy right where I wanted him!" _the hired gun asked himself, loud screeches from above answering his question.

It was a bat – a disgusting fucking bat!

"Just fucking beautiful," Jake grumbled to himself as two more commandos rushed to their colleague's aid.

"There he is!" a soldier called out, his mounted halogen light blinding the hired gun, forcing him into the nearby brush as gunfire tore apart the trees and bushes.

"We've spotted Cavanaugh! Pursuing the target now!" he heard a commando calling into his radio.

_"Christ, it'll only be a matter of time before I have a whole fucking shitload of those bastards hunting me down," _Jake told himself as he pushed his way through the brush, waving his free arm and wildly shoving branches out of his face as he fought desperately to create space between himself and his pursuers, all because he botched one shot.

"He's headed west!" a commando shouted, his halogen light piercing the darkness and exposing the fleeing hitman for his colleagues to take aim.

Jake brought an arm up to shield his eyes from any high speed wooden shrapnel becoming lodged in them as high powered rounds ripped apart the trees around him, forcing him to duck low. He knew the commandos were likely equipped with thermal goggles for these kinds of conditions, heightening the desperation as he fought for survival.

"Oh shit!" the hitman called out as he found himself stepping into thin air and rolling down another steep knoll, shooting an arm out to halt his descent as his hand dug into the dirt, the halogen lights cutting swaths into the night air above him.

Grunting in anguish, the hitman pushed himself back to his feet, his ankle throbbing from the fall.

_"Fucking hide somewhere damn it," _he told himself hearing the commandos drawing closer, knowing he couldn't outrun them on a sprained ankle. Finding a hiding spot was his only option at this point as he scooped up his rifle, thankful it hadn't been damaged in the fall.

A wide tree was the closest thing nearby and hearing the armed thugs above him, he took cover behind it and kept his carbine ready for action.

"Looks like the prick took a fall. Keep your eyes open men," the commando at the front of the pack spoke carefully descending the slope.

_"Time for action," _Jake said to himself making a mental countdown before he peeked the carbine's barrel around the tree and cut down the lead commando with an armor piercing flurry to the chest. He wouldn't let up, leaving the trigger depressed and cutting down the following soldier and wounding another.

The combined assault of the other troopers was eating away at the tree's bark and would soon drill through to him. Bolting out from behind his hiding spot he raised the rifle and fired into the wounded trooper before disarming a fourth with a salvo that mangled his left hand before his M4A1 clicked empty.

"He's getting away," another masked commando shouted, passing his wounded colleague without any regard for the man's well-being, solely intent on taking out his target.

Jake hobbled his way along another narrow path while trying to dodge the bullets fired upon him, trying to return fire, but only slowing himself down and wasting ammunition in the process. "Fuck this shit," he gasped upon spotting a nearby cave and throwing himself into the darkness, hopeful none of the commandos had seen him enter.

"Where'd he go?" a commando called out, shining his light into the nearby brush and seeing a few hollowed out tree trunks as the others caught up to him.

"Damn it, don't say he's given us the slip already," another grunted in frustration, training his Benelli M4 Super 90 along another crudely-crafted narrow trail.

"The bastard couldn't have gotten far. I say we split up and look for him," a third man spoke up.

"Wait, don't you think we could be playing into a trap if we do that?" another rifle-toting grunt asked, "Maybe he wants us to split up so he can try picking us off one by one."

"We need to cover as much ground as possible," the first trooper spoke up, noticing there were seven other men present, "We split up into groups of two, he pops his greasy head out you blow it off. No questions asked."

The trooper used hand signals to tell the groups which directions to fan out before motioning for the shot gunner to come with him, the duo making their way towards a cave and bathing its darkened interior in bright light. With a collective nod, they made their way inside.

Jake winced as he saw the bright lights illuminating the once pitch black cavern, scampering further along a winding turn and trying to make himself as small as he could, holding the silenced pistol in one hand and the combat knife in the other. He listened as more than one man made their way into the car, barely hearing their muffled footsteps as they inched closer to him, his grips on both weapons tightening as he was sure they were just inches away from his hiding spot. When he spotted the barrel of a Benelli shotgun poking into view he leapt into action.

With a twirl of his whole body, the hitman drove his knife into the throat of the oncoming trooper with a wet _'chuk' _and then spun his body again, raising the silenced pistol and firing three shots into the face of the man's still stunned colleague.

Jake breathed a deep sigh of relief as the second man's body hit the dirt, training his gun on the cave's entrance to make sure there were no others coming. Keeping his gun raised he knelt down and stripped the men of any remaining spare clips they carried.

With no other means of escaping the cave the hitman would be forced to go back the way he came and cautiously approached with his suppressed pistol ready, again trying to minimize the noise. From a distance he could make out the heat signatures of six additional commandos nearby, which prompted him to holster the pistol and again withdraw his carbine. He looked down to his mounted compass to see he was pointing westward bound and decided he would follow that direction and carefully descended another incline, coming to a halt when he noticed a cluster of leaves.

He couldn't make out any heat signatures from the cluster, yet he assumed it had to be a trap. A large rock was nearby and he tossed it into the bundle, a loud metallic snap following, that of a bear trap.

It turned out to be a mistake as he saw the swaths of light shining from above.

"Did you hear that?" a commando asked, only to be loudly shushed by his colleague.

Again the hired gun took cover behind a large rock, knowing it would shield his heat signal from their plain view and listened to the rustle of dirt as the two men made their descent. Knowing he was low on ammo for his pistol's current clip he had no other choice and raised the M4A1, cutting down both men in a barrage of screaming metal, the rattle echoing throughout the oft barren woodlands.

He could hear the remaining troops calling out and knew he would again be forced into cover, eventually happening across another crudely carved dirt trail lined with landmines. It was a risky move, but he was hopeful he would be able to draw the soldiers in and show them just how 'explosive' the consequences of their actions could be.

_"Yes, come to me," _he thought to himself, taking cover behind an overturned tree and knocking its wooden surface when he heard footsteps drawing closer.

Thankfully there was a knothole for him to peek through and he watched as the two men approached the trail, their glowing red eyes a dead giveaway in the darkness.

"He's gotta be nearby," he heard one of the men whisper, "Wesker better give us a bonus for this, especially what that bastard's already done in Springvale," he added as the hitman dug himself into the ground, trying to make himself smaller as their halogen lights shone overhead.

Jake reached for his holster and again withdrew the silenced pistol, moving with the utmost care as the two men passed him by, seeing they were getting closer to the landmines farther down the trail. He waited until he was sure they were far enough along and he raised the gun, squeezing off three rounds that caught the first man in his neck and shoulders.

The second commando whirled around, only to take four armor piercing rounds to the chest and he fell backwards onto one of the explosives, separating his legs from his upper body.

No doubt the explosion would attract the attention of any remaining commandos nearby and the hitman got to work stripping the first commando of any remaining ammo he had left and pocketing an additional first aid spray in the process, along with more recovery meds and some hemostat pills.

"That came from over there!" another commando hissed, rushing down the hill followed closely by his colleague, both of them with their carbines drawn as they saw a plume of smoke rising through the cracks between the trees. They slowed down their movement as they drew nearer, trying to minimize their chances of giving away their position as they came to the crudely carved dirt trail. The duo advanced until they spotted a stationary figure with its shoulder exposed slightly from behind the oak it hid behind.

With a collective nod, both men fired upon the figure and sent it clattering to the ground in a deafening hail of metal.

As soon as the target hit the ground the first soldier raised his hand, motioning for his colleague to halt. Switching on his nightlight attachment, he crept towards the fallen figure and gently prodded the fallen man with his boot before turning him over onto his back.

"Wrong guy," the man reported to his colleague, just before he fell from an automatic barrage to the upper back.

Jake ducked down behind the earthen outcropping where he had positioned himself before the man's colleague could return fire, his opponent's bullets ripping away at the dirt and grass in front of him. There was a metallic clink on a jagged rock near him and he looked down to see a fragmentation grenade, sending him bolting down the hillside and leaping for cover behind another overturned tree as the explosive detonated.

The hitman knelt behind the tree with his rifle positioned on its jagged surface, waiting patiently until he saw the glowing red of the man's goggles and fired a burst into his face, the crimson mist spraying into the air as he felt backwards.

Carefully emerging from his hiding spot, the hired gun waved his rifle back and forth as he crept towards the fallen man and listened for any sudden movements before kneeling down to gather the trooper's remaining ammo. With the first soldier taken care of he made his way over to relieve the second corpse of its lethal cargo.

_"Worked like a charm," _Jake said to himself looking down to the man whose body he used as a decoy, having removed his mask to reveal a dark-haired Hispanic man underneath, wasn't perfect, but was close enough.

There would no doubt be more soldiers arriving soon and he needed to keep on the move, continuing down the trail beyond the outcropping and coming across a narrow wooden bridge with an attached sign telling him he was just five miles away from the Two Creeks Campground, some carved in badger prints pointing the direction which he needed to go.

"Guess that's where I'm going next," he whispered, knowing the area could likely be deserted, yet wondering if there had been any abandoned supplies which he could make use out of, yet he would suddenly halt himself a second later.

There was no doubt in his mind those commandos would be interested in the same place if it meant some form of human settlement, abandoned or not.

It was yet another quandary presented to the exhausted hired gun, a struggle with no end in sight. At this point he was sure if their bullets didn't kill him, the fatigue most likely would.

_"Almost one entire week of nonstop fighting…one entire week," _he said to himself while crossing the bridge, _"Shooting, hiding, fighting and lots of running…I wonder how many times my adrenaline has kicked into overdrive in such a short span of time. It's a miracle I haven't had a goddamned heart attack."_

Once again Jake found his mind drifting back to the 'what if?' mindset.

What if he had refused Wesker's offer when first called upon? Could he have even been in a position to say no, given the man somehow found his address and phone number in spite of the assumed name he rented the apartment under?

What if he didn't answer the phone? Would that shady bastard have broken into his apartment and killed him? With the way Wesker was able to get the jump on him in that Raccoon City flat and all those unusual superpowers he has, he could have snuck up on him and he would have never known.

What if he had tried to cop out before he could even reach Raccoon City? Given how that guy seemed to have eyes on him from all angles, especially like it was at that rest stop, he wondered if Wesker would have known and tried sending his hired killers after him. He probably could have hidden himself in the deepest, darkest depths of the surrounding forests and that guy would have still found some way to get through to him.

They were questions and possibilities which left him wondering if there would have been any escape from this hole he had fallen into, making him feel as if he had been a prisoner since the beginning.

_"It was rigged from the start," _he told himself taking cover behind a tree and scoping for any threats, _"Just like it is now. No matter where I go, those bastards are probably going to follow me. I know too much."_

Whether he liked it or not there was only one thing Jake Cavanaugh could do and that was to continue fighting back. Much like those zombies and other B.O.W.'s, these commandos seemed to be everywhere he turned and they were just as relentless. In hindsight, it was fighting back that had kept him alive this long and it was what would keep him going until he could find someplace where he could be granted more than two or three hours of sleep. To achieve that luxury, he would have to soldier forth, a process engrained within his mind.

No doubt there were more traps lying along the trail ahead of him, but he knew he had to be ready. He had to forcibly ebb the uncertainty out of his psyche and continue his forward ascension.

Besides, if he couldn't exact some form of revenge physically upon Albert Wesker for making his life a living hell, he could do so to the men carrying out his bidding.

There would be more to die, more to pay the price for standing between him and his most elusive freedom. He would paint the forest floor with their blood for making the mistake of wandering into his life, guilty by their association to the one man who had made this possible.

_"Yes Jake, you're going to do to them like you've done to all those worthless schmucks in the past. You're going to make them regret their decision to hunt you down. You're going to make them wish they had turned and ran the other way. No doubt Wesker would have them killed for their cowardice, but they would also be paying the price for their stupidity. They truly must be hard up for cash to work for someone like him, especially if they're aware of what he did to the S.T.A.R.S. members back at the Spencer Estate."_

The lone hitman quietly scanned the area ahead of him, his thermal imaging goggles painting everything in varying shades of colors from the rainbow, like one huge acid trip. Nevertheless, they had served their purpose well in guiding him through the vast wilderness and helping him pick out targets that would have otherwise been invisible to naked eyes in the surrounding darkness.

Above him he could make out reddish-orange comet-like streaks darting back and forth, assuming they had to be more bats. They must have been normal judging by how they ignored him, whereas a bat exposed to the T-Virus probably would have mutated into something ten times its regular size, grown new sharpened appendages, and tried to swallow him whole in one huge gulp.

Aside from those bats he hadn't seen any other living critters scurrying about, which left him on edge as to whether or not they had all been wiped out or if they were infected and given newfound predatory skills that left them waiting to get the jump on him from above, just like those Hunters.

A faint twirling motion from a distance caught the hired gun's attention, its motion a dark blue telling him that it wasn't human and thus didn't give off any heat signatures, yet he was drawn to it. It almost made him think of a windmill, but then it suddenly clicked – helicopter blades!

Jake cautiously approached the area with his rifle raised at eye level, on the lookout for landmines or any other possible booby traps as he came across a small patch of land forcibly cleared by the fractured remnants of a blue and white helicopter.

"What the hell?" he whispered while crouching down, making sure there were no snipers set up nearby trying to use the wrecked aircraft as bait.

The hitman lowered himself to his stomach and crawled through a patch of tall grass, but the loud rustling of his body would have given away his position to trained ears.

_"Still better than nothing," _he thought to himself when his hand suddenly grasped a fistful of spent 5.56x45mm NATO rounds and nearby he found the splintered remnants of an M4 carbine. As he reached an area broken by blackened soil he found an emptied Beretta 92F and lying near the opened cargo door of the copter's hull was a Benelli M3S with a few spent casings littering the ground near it, signs of a struggle having followed the crash, further evidenced by the bullet holes dotting the totaled husk.

When he was within reach Jake pushed himself to a crouch walk and pulled himself inside, immediately finding the mutilated remnants of the pilot.

The figure's face and much of its upper body had been disfigured to the point Jake was unable to determine the hapless soul's gender or race, but one thing was certain the individual had been killed by the crash itself and hopefully wouldn't rise back to attack him. He looked out the cockpit's shattered window to see the shredded remnants of the once mighty oak tree it had collided with, one of its branches having broken off after impaling the pilot, adding one of a multitude of injuries that had played a role in the nameless person's fate.

There was no time to mourn the fallen pilot as Jake turned his attention to the cargo area, where several green weapon cases had been emptied and tossed about haphazardly and the first aid kit had been looted as well, deflating his hopes of finding anything useful.

_"Wait a minute," _his mind called out as his eyes caught sight of a small box sticking out from beneath one of the benches and he knelt down to pick it up, opening it to find a line of emergency flares. It suddenly clicked within him.

Those commandos were wearing thermal imaging goggles like what he currently wore and he knew how sensitive they could be to the tiniest of heat signatures. The flares he found could throw them off and lead them into traps which would enable him to take them out more silently.

_"Would be worth a try," _he told himself remembering his silenced pistol, katana and combat knife as he was about to step out of the chopper's fractured hull, only to find himself blinded by a red laser sight.

Jake leapt back into the cargo area just as bullets tore through the metallic surface, throwing himself to the metal floor and scrambling for the carbine.

The hitman laid flat on the metal surface, his heart thumping loudly as he looked up at the tendrils of smoky air drifting in through the fresh set of holes. Aside from his most important organ pumping at its frenzied pace, he could hear light rustling within the surrounding foliage, telling him his unseen adversaries were nearby. It would only be a matter of time before they would try to storm the mangled fuselage.

A metallic _'thwack'_ sounded and Jake felt the heat of a high velocity round whizzing just above his nose, followed by the stench of fresh gunpowder. Looking over to his left he saw the fresh hole and the smoky after trail creeping in, followed by another quarter-sized hole suddenly appearing a few centimeters above the last, the punching noise through the metal being the only giveaway of the silenced rounds being fired upon him.

"Gotta think fast Jake," he muttered to himself as the rustling drew closer.

Keeping himself low to the metal floor, the hired gun tucked in his legs and spun his entire body so his gun was pointed directly towards the opened cargo door and fired a barrage to deter the encroaching would-be assassins. Confident, he had bought some time; he pushed himself further along and let loose another volley.

Unbeknownst to him, one of his rounds managed to connect with the sniper, who was clad in a ghillie suit, the round traveling through the scope of the man's SR-25 rifle and straight into his eye.

More rounds were fired through the opened cargo door and impacted the wall behind him, forcing him towards the cockpit and next to the pilot's mangled remnants. There was another clatter upon the metallic floor and his eyes widened when he saw yet another grenade had been tossed in his direction.

"Fuck!" Jake blurted out, whirling around on instinct to find himself right in front of the copter's shattered from window and he raised the rifle's stock to knock the remaining large shards out of his path before pulling himself outside and hitting the ground running, the explosion rocking the earth around him and causing him to nearly stumble to his feet, yet he somehow managed to maintain his center of gravity and kept running, only to find himself coming face to face with another one of those red-eyed spooks.

With a loud grunt the hired gun lunged towards the commando and tackled him head on, but instead of hitting the ground right away, he found himself riding the man like a human sled as they slid down another dirt incline. The force of the landing knocked the commando unconscious, leaving Jake an opening to pull out his combat knife and stab the man in his masked face.

"Over here! Tango is heading west!" one of the commandos called out before raising his carbine and raining fire down upon the hitman's brief victory, the bullets ripping away at the dirt around him and forcing him further along another winding trail.

"Don't let that bastard get away!" he heard another commando call out as he raced down the trail, thorny vines whipping away at his exposed skin as he raced at a manic pace. He grunted aloud as several low hanging branches slapped away at his face, forcing him to raise his arms while his carbine was still clenched in his grasp and use the firearm as a makeshift club, eventually getting it entangled and forcibly ripping it away.

Gunfire chipped away at the trees and foliage around him as Jake sprinted along a hairpin trail that left him moving in jagged motions, both to avoid the bullets and the rocks, fallen branches and other natural obstacles left in his way. A burning pain shot through his left arm as one of the bullets managed to nick him, but it wasn't enough to slow him down and thankfully wouldn't be enough to affect his shooting when need be.

Finding another large tree to hide behind, the hired gun stuck his barrel around the trunk and fired upon his pursuers, missing all of his shots, but forcing them into cover and buying him a few precious extra seconds to continue ahead, straight into a creek.

The rivulet was roughly five feet in width, yet didn't appear very deep at all and the hitman leapt into it before turning around to fire another burst at his pursuers, catching the man at the front of the pack as he burst through the shrubbery, an armor piercing barrage hammering his chest and sending him falling head first into the water.

Jake whirled around and ran through the shin-high water as the vengeance-minded commandos continued firing upon him before he whirled around to fire another burst and then his rifle clicked empty.

"Shit," he grumbled to himself as he ran while trying to reload the rifle at the same time. He could hear the trickling of water falling at a much faster pace from up ahead and turned to see he was approaching the end of a small waterfall. At the same time, the commandos were fast approaching and he was left with no other choice.

The hitman threw himself over the ledge into the waiting pond below.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where'd he go?" Corporal Anim Bookmiller demanded as he and his troops came to the drop off point where the stream became Horseshoe Pond, named after its shape. According to what he had memorized from the map given to him, they wouldn't be that much farther away from the Two Creeks Campground, or 'Point Spartacus' as it had been designated during the duration of their occupation.

They had been hot on the trail of Jake Cavanaugh and finally had him in their sights, yet the elusive criminal had somehow yet again managed to evade them. He mentally cursed the sniper Jessop for not popping the hired gun as soon as the man entered his crosshairs, letting him enter the ruins of that helicopter without incident.

Had Jessop still been alive, Bookmiller would have made sure he wasn't for much longer.

Never mind that, the punk was dead and all that mattered now was finding Cavanaugh and bringing his severed head back to Wesker.

Nodding to his remaining subordinates, Cpl. Bookmiller motioned for three of them to take the right flank, two others to take the left flank and some guy armed with a DSR-1 sniper rifle, Delgado, to come with him while he readied his own USAS-12 automatic shotgun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jake coughed and gagged as he emerged from the pond on his hands and knees, the water and mud weighing down his tattered clothing.

"Sons of bitches," he grunted spotting his carbine washed up along the shoreline and scuttling towards it, only to find it waterlogged. Cursing quietly he tossed the worthless rifle aside and braced against a nearby tree to pull himself back to his feet.

He could hear the rustling of the trees and foliage around him and felt the autumn breeze picking up and making him shiver. Given the black combat fatigues which made them blend into the background like shadows, he couldn't tell whether it was the wind itself or those troopers converging upon him which caused the ruckus.

Withdrawing his combat knife and silenced pistol, the hired gun crept along the trail in a Close Quarters Combat stance with his blade pointed downward, the handle practically frozen in his icy hand.

_"Shouldn't have done that Jake," _he told himself as his teeth chattered beneath his soaked lips and beads of chilly water streamed down his face, an icy agony following as he struggled to stay upright. His bones shook and he could feel something else coming on.

_"Oh god no, not now," _he thought feeling his chest begin to rise and his throat begin to tingle before expelling a mighty sneeze, followed by another harsh gag.

Bright lights snaked towards his direction and the hitman threw himself behind a fallen tree fumbling for his silenced pistol. He breathed deeply, cupping his hand over his mouth and pointing the gun towards the trail as the lights drew closer, ready to start shooting.

To his surprise, two gunmen walked past him without incident. Their thermal goggles should have picked him up, yet he was somehow still hidden to them in the darkness and then he felt the chill running through his body as his mud-covered hand clamped down on his mouth to muffle another sneeze.

_"Wait, that makes sense," _he said to himself, suddenly remembering something Buster, a man who had experience using thermal goggles in combat, told him.

The mud covering him must have dampened his body's heat signatures, rendering him invisible to their sensors. As long as he remained like that he could sneak up on them whenever he pleased.

_"If it's worth nearly catching pneumonia over, then I might as well make the most out of it while it lasts," _Jake thought to himself as he slipped out from behind the tree and crept towards a commando scanning the water for any signs of movement with his mounted light. He looked over to his left to see the other trooper continuing further along the shoreline and knew he would have to make this kill quick and fast.

Getting his blade aimed in a downward position, he lunged onto the unsuspecting man and plunged the dagger into his jugular while clamping his other hand down over the man's mouth to muffle any noises he might make. He shook the masked man violently in his grasp, feeling the life draining from his quarry as the blood gushed from the fresh wound. Looking over to make sure the other man wasn't too close, he dragged the deceased commando's body over to the bushes and tossed them in with a noisy crackle that sent dead leaves raining to the ground.

It was loud enough for the other man to hear from his position and he came rushing back while the hitman took cover behind another tall tree.

Heavy breathing gave away the commando's tension as he drew closer to the parted gap created in the shrubbery. Just as the man's light shone upon his colleague's lifeless carcass, Jake was leaping up behind him and swinging his katana, cleanly separating the soldier's head from his shoulders.

Flicking the loose droplets of blood from his blade Jake sheathed his sword and grabbed the now headless body by the ankles and dragged it into the clearing next to his fallen comrade and then stripped both men of their available ammunition, switching off the laser sight on the second man's rifle to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

"Takes care of them," Jake muttered looking across the pond to see more rifle-mounted lights cutting through the trees and undergrowth, able to pick out four other lights right away and hearing the faint hiss of radio chatter.

His foot brushed against something and he looked down to see the glowing eyes of the commando's severed head staring up to him.

Knowing it would be ghoulish, yet simultaneously effective, Jake reached down grabbing the head and letting it hang limply at his side. Another idea was forming in his head as he made his way along the shoreline, inching further towards the approaching commandos.

He slowly made his way around one of the horseshoe turns, moving in a crouched position behind anything that would obscure him from his enemies' lights and bolting for cover between the few open spaces until one of the men drew closer.

"Hope this works," he whispered drawing his arm back and lobbing the severed head into the open, the helmeted cranium striking a nearby tree with a wet splat.

The nearby trooper whirled around and leapt back as he noticed his colleague's severed head staring up to him. He quickly tapped at the side of his helmet to alert the others, but Jake raised his silenced H&K and fired a volley of muffled rounds into the man before he could speak.

"Did you hear that?" a faint voice blurted out from a distance, having heard the armored body striking the dirt floor.

Jake took cover behind a small earthen hill and kept both of his weapons at the ready as two more commandos approached.

"The fool went and got himself killed!" said a commando carrying a Saiga-12 combat shotgun, prodding the man's corpse with his boot.

"And so did another one," his colleague said, using his boot to overturn the severed head the hitman had used as a lure.

"That bastard is around here somewhere probably watching us, thinking he can get away with killing two of our own," the shot gunner said pointing his Saiga-12 into the surrounding brush.

"Well he won't make it far and when we find him, he _will_ pay," the other man said readying his FN P90.

"Damn right he will," the shot gunner replied before the split up to cover more ground.

Jake watched from behind the hill as the two men proceeded further into the woods, again passing by without incident. He would need to take them out to ensure a safer passage through the precarious woodland, deciding to first go after the submachine gun guy.

Pushing himself to a crouching position, he moved away from the hill and moved around fallen twigs and clusters of leaves as he stalked his prey, still feeling the dampness of the pond and hoping that would protect him from detection by their thermal goggles.

Jake kept his knife lowered as he crept after the first man, his strides rotating back and forth between wide arches and small shuffles as he did what he could to avoid making noise, thankful the breeze had returned to ruffle the nearby brush to help disguise his movements.

The commando gradually slowed his pace and eventually stopped to investigate a nearby tree, leaving him wide open.

_"Time to say goodbye," _Jake thought raising his arm and aiming the blade downward.

"Behind you!" the other soldier called out, the heat signatures of their intended target returning as the man's body gradually warmed.

It was too late as Jake had already stabbed the blade into the space between the man's neck and shoulder. Hearing the man's voice calling out, the hired gun whirled around and tossed his victim towards his colleague, the man's stomach blown apart by a shotgun blast as he was thrown into the way of the scatter meant for him.

The commando never lost a step despite having just killed his own colleague, firing another shot that sent Jake diving for cover behind a tree, most of its bark blown off by the blast. He quickly reached for his rifle and peeked out from the tree's opposite side, firing a burst towards his attacker before bolting through the brush behind him.

"He's over here!" he heard the commando calling out to his unseen colleagues the hired gun again found himself cutting a crude trail through the brush, wincing as the thorns pricked his skin, continuing forth until he came to a clearing that had once been used as a campsite, nearly tripping over the soggy remnants of a long extinguished fire.

The boom of a shotgun blast rang out from behind and the hitman jumped as the fabric of an abandoned tent was shredded to tiny strips, followed by another tree being reduced to splinters by an explosive round fired by another shotgun.

Raising his rifle Jake fired wildly into the surrounding brush before taking cover behind one of the trees the tent had been positioned in front of. He checked his current clip to see that he was out and let it clatter to the damp ground as he quietly inserted a new magazine. Picking up the expended clip he tossed it into a nearby bush hoping to bait his enemies. Sure enough, a loud ping rang out as a heavily dented pot was struck by a round from a silenced sniper rifle.

_"That came from over there," _Jake thought to himself, trying to determine the bullet's trajectory, looking down to his wrist-mounted compass to see that it came from the northwesterly direction. By now his attacker had probably moved and returning fire would only serve to give away his position, possibly surrounded from all sides.

Again he could feel his pulse racing, knowing he was pinned down. The breeze picked up more violently and dead leaves crackled as they rolled along the ground, the rustling of the surrounding flora once again disguising any movements that could have allowed him to pinpoint the location of his pursuers. He was temporarily forced to raise his thermal goggles due to the strain it had put on his eyes and the darkness around enabled his black-clad enemies to blend in like shadows. He wasn't given time to reach up and rub them, only blinking away before he dared to pull them down.

The hitman nearly jumped as he noticed a sniper rifle's laser beam fast approaching, its trail fully visible under the thermal lights, but then he remembered something.

He still had those flares on him that he found back in the helicopter wreckage.

Quickly pulling one out, he ripped away at the cap and a loud hiss broke the encroaching silence as the breeze died down, a cloud of smoke shooting out before he tossed it out into the open and began crawling away.

"Don't let him get away!" Jake heard a voice call out as he scampered on his hands and knees, more bullets whizzing overhead until he finally clawed his way out of the brush and grasped his rifle in his hands, rising to his feet and turning around to fire another barrage before tossing down another flare in hopes of throwing off his pursuers.

Cpl. Bookmiller halted as another puff of smoke appeared from a distance, his goggles becoming awash with impossibly bright multicolored lights and reaching up to pull them away on reflex.

Once the vision returned to his eyes he looked over to see the other shot gunner Brutus scrambling to load a handful of shells into his Saiga-12 while Delgado clutched away at a fresh wound on his upper arm, his DSR-1 mangled by their target's gunfire.

It suddenly hit him that more colleagues were stationed nearby and he tapped the side of his helmet to activate his built-in microphone.

"Pillar 4, come in!"

_"Pillar 4 reporting, what's the sit rep?"_

"We're hot on Cavanaugh's tail. He should be heading your way right now. If you've got anybody with you, get them ready at once," Cpl. Bookmiller ordered.

_"Understood, we'll give that prick something to regret. Pillar 4 out!"_

Jake figured the flare distraction may have worked as he no longer heard the rustling of brush being pushed aside; panting of commandos pursuing him or any more shots being fired.

There was no time to stop and rest, knowing he needed to put as much ground as he could between himself and his assailants. His legs throbbed as he ran along the crude path and his lungs felt like they wanted to burst for the millionth time. He almost had to wonder if that vaccine he had taken back at the underground research facility had some kind of effect giving him more stamina, again finding it a miracle he wasn't knocking on Death's Door from exhaustion, unless the specter was too preoccupied with the other messes he left behind.

The dirt path eventually led to a narrow gravel road and in the distance he swore he could see a light burning in the darkness, so distracted by it he barely made out a sniper hidden in the trees.

"Shit," he hissed as he bolted towards the tall grass, a silenced round piercing the ground where he stood.

The hired gun was left with no choice as another bullet burrowed into the thin tree next to him, raising his rifle and letting loose on his attacker, firing until the man was knocked from his perch.

"Over there!" a voice called out and the hitman looked ahead to see three additional troopers rushing towards him.

Jake raised his M4A1 and managed to cut down one of the commandos, but was forced to take cover when the rifle clicked dry.

There were explosions of dust as the shot gunners caught up to him and were chipping away at the rock he hid behind while he slammed a fresh clip into his rifle and he reached over to blind fire at his attackers, forcing them to back down for a few precious seconds of fresh air.

More bullets pelted away from the hill the new trio had come from and Jake shifted his focus towards the two remaining soldiers, able to see one of them was reaching for a grenade through his goggles and raising the carbine to fire a barrage.

The bullets struck the would-be bomber before he could release the explosive from his grasp, the circular object falling from his hand and landing next to his colleague, who was left with little time to flee and found his back shredded by flying shrapnel just as he leapt into the air, his efforts for naught.

Falling to the ground to dodge another explosive shotgun shell fired in his direction, Jake kept his finger depressed on the trigger before striking the earth, his bullets clipping the head of the first shot gunner and taking down the next two men.

_"Another case of dumb luck I guess," _the hitman thought pushing himself back to his feet and rushing down the trail towards that light, wanting to find out what it was and if it could yield anything of use as he continued his struggle for survival in the woods.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With a loud grunt, Anim Bookmiller slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and ripped his now shattered thermal goggles away from his face.

A survivor of various skirmishes, he knew what was going on when he felt the warm sticky fluid upon his forehead and ripped off his balaclava, the black fabric saturated by his fresh blood. He slowly ran his fingers along his brow and winced as he felt the break in his skin, his exposed fingertips coated.

Somehow he had gotten lucky, but that was something to think about later. Right now there was still a stone cold killer out who had already taken out several of his comrades and needed to be dealt with.

The corporal looked down to see both Delgado and his fellow shot gunner Raikov, both lying dead at his sides, and then over to what remained of the other three commandos who had attempted to aide them.

_"It's almost like he's not human," _Bookmiller thought, slowly pushing himself back to his feet and scooping up his shotgun, along with some of the unused shells left on Raikov's body.

The unpleasant thought wouldn't deter him from tracking down and killing Jake Cavanaugh. He had survived worse around the globe, most recently the cleanup of Springvale, where he battled zombies, Hunters, Lickers and all sorts of other freaks cooked up by Umbrella's insane experimentation. He had killed enough things in his life, both human and non-human, to the point he was more and more desensitized with every squeeze of the trigger that followed.

When he finally had the elusive hired gun one on one, he knew he would not hesitate to take that bastard out.

He would need to find the man first he thought to himself, looking down to his now shattered thermal goggles, rendered useless by a lone bullet that had chipped through the surface barely missing his forehead and severing the straps which connected them.

However, he could still hear the winded hitman's labored grunting from a short distance, along with the snapping of twigs and the rustle of brush. He wasn't too far away.

"You can run, but you can't hide Cavanaugh."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The tiny light was growing in size with every step closer and he could see the peaked roof above it and from a distance could make out the metallic form of a vehicle parked nearby.

Thanks to his thermal goggles Jake could also make out the figure marching along the building's outer wall, a sentry no doubt, just another chump who was moments away from biting the bullet he thought to himself withdrawing his silenced pistol.

The hitman slowed his pace back to a creeper's pace, stalking quietly towards the cabin as another figure stepped into view from the opposite side of the building.

"Any word if that chick they caught from the helicopter wreck was able to provide any useful Intel?" one of the guards asked his colleague.

"Aside from the fact that she's a S.T.A.R.S. member, she's been refusing to talk," the other guard replied.

_"A S.T.A.R.S. member out here?" _Jake thought taking a position behind a tree, _"What the hell could one of them be doing out here in the middle of nowhere?" _he asked himself, suddenly remembering Jill and Brad.

Come to think of it, he was never made aware of what had become of the young woman after they were separated following his final encounter with that one-eyed bazooka-carrying brute. Could she have possibly made it out this far only to be taken hostage by Wesker's henchmen?

_"Only one way to find out," _he told himself readying the silenced pistol in one hand and his knife in the other before creeping towards the parked ranger-owned S.U.V., kneeling down and listening for the guards' movements before sneaking further and coming to the edge.

"Since when the hell does Wesker believe in taking prisoners?" the first guard asked, "Unless he's saving her for his own personal needs I don't see any reason we should have to waste our time guarding her ass."

"Just focus on keeping it sharp," the second guard snapped, "Cavanaugh's gotta be nearby if the guys are shooting and you know how that bastard is, he'll sneak up on you and cut your head off without second thought if you give him the chance."

Jake almost snickered at the sentry's comment, _"Sad thing is you're not far from the truth buddy," _he thought bolting over to the cabin's exterior wall and hugging it, moving along until he came to the lone window on that side and knelt beneath it, able to hear the chatter from inside.

"What the hell do you mean you can't get any more backup over here? Cavanaugh is nearby!" he heard a man shouting and looked in the window to see a blond-haired man sitting at a radio console, "Guarding one woman surely can't be _that_ much work can it?"

Jake continued sneaking along the outer wall and looked to the end to see a cloud of mist coming from around the corner, telling him the guard was drawing closer. Getting his knife into position he could faintly hear the man's muffled footsteps and as soon as he saw the rifle's barrel poking around he shot his arm out, catching the man in the throat and clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle his dying gurgles.

_"Scratch one shithead," _he thought rounding the corner and again ducking low to avoid being spotted through the windows, listening closely for the movements of the other sentry and also keeping a look out for his breath, the dead giveaway that helped him bring down the other man.

He rounded the corner and spotted the other guard with his back to him, quietly unsheathing his sword and creeping up behind him. Without warning the man would turn around, but by then it was already too late and his head was separated from the rest of his body.

Now there was the chump left in the cabin to deal with and the hitman readied his weapons as he carefully approached the cabin's opened door and looked in to see the communications officer still had his back to him. Drawing his silenced pistol he crept towards the man, but one of his feet touched a weakened floorboard and the man turned on his swivel chair, only to be met by the gun pointed at his face.

_"Pillar 4 come in, repeat Pillar 4 come in! This is Point Spartacus, come in over!" _a voice crackled over the radio.

"You are going to answer that, aren't you?" Jake sarcastically asked, the evil glare in his eyes telling the man that if he dared speak a word of his presence he would kill him right on the spot.

The communications officer swallowed deeply and pushed down the transmit button, slowly composing himself before replying, "This is Pillar 4…reporting…"

_"Pillar 4, what is the current situation? We've been receiving reports of Cavanaugh being in the area," _the voice on the other end spoke.

Jake pressed the barrel of his silencer against the back of the man's head to further let him know he wasn't fucking around.

The radioman squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to speak through clenched jaws, "Everything is crystal clear…over."

_"Acknowledged, keep an eye out for suspicious activity-"_

The cocking of a rifle came from behind and on reflex, Jake grabbed the radioman by the shoulders and flung the man in front of him, right into the barrage of automatic fire directed at him.

There was no time for the gunman to recover and the hired gun launched himself into the air, tackling the man through the doorway and into the dirt outside, driving his fists into the man's exposed face until the man raised a forearm to deflect one of his blows and then head butted him hard in the face.

Jake grunted and fell off the man clutching his now broken nose, giving the man an opening to mount him and proceeded with his own flurry of fists into his already bruised and bloodied face. Out of desperation, the hitman clamped a handful of dirt and tossed it into his attacker's face, temporarily blinding the man and allowing him to deliver a hard uppercut that sent the soldier tumbling to the side.

Pushing himself back to his feet he was finally able to get a good look at the man attacking him, a man who had to be roughly in his late twenties to early thirties with auburn hair cropped closely to his head, steely gray eyes and a fresh gash along his right eyebrow.

"You're only delaying the inevitable Cavanaugh. You might as well give up while you have the option of a quick, painless death," the man said reaching for a combat knife.

"Fuck you," Jake hissed drawing his own knife, still coated in the blood of its most recent victim.

The man ducked low and attempted a sweeping kick, which the assassin leapt backward to dodge and then attempted to swipe his blade upward as he rose to his feet, which sliced through the fabric of his bulletproof vest, but thankfully nowhere else.

Jake then went on the offensive, responding with a spinning roundhouse kick to the man's gut and then twirled his body to execute another which caught the man in his face as he buckled over, sending him clattering to the dirt, yet he somehow maintained his grip on the knife.

"Get up," the hired gun spat moving back and forth with his knife held at his side, never taking his eyes off the man as he reached for a concealed dagger and chucked it towards his opponent, the blade nicking Jake's ear and causing him to wince.

The nameless soldier roared loudly as he pushed himself towards the hitman, catching him in a football tackle that sent him falling backwards into the S.U.V., denting the vehicle's body beneath his weight. He tried to follow up with a punch to Jake's face, but the hired gun managed to tilt his head to the side and the man's fist went flying through the glass.

With his opponent writhing in agony, Jake kicked the man hard in his shin and kneed him in the groin. He then elbowed him in the side, flipped him around so he was against the S.U.V. and proceeded to choke his opponent, weakening him before tossing him to the ground again.

He watched as the fallen soldier attempted to crawl for his M4A1, but Jake leapt into the air and brought his foot down on the man's wrist, an audible snap following that left him grimacing in pain. Flinging the man onto his back, he placed him in a painful joint lock and wrenched back until he broke his other wrist.

"Looks like you're not gonna be jerking off for a while," Jake chuckled before reaching down the man's collar and grasping the chain holding his dog tags.

"Anim Bookmiller, huh?" he said forcing the injured man to look towards him, "Well Mr. Bookmiller, what can you tell me about this Point Spartacus place I've been hearing so much about?"

"Fuck you asshole!" the soldier spat.

"Okay, I'll admit, that's the answer I'd have given too," Jake replied with his typical darkly humorous banter, clamping down on his injured arm, "I'm going to ask you again, what do you know about this Point Spartacus place and more importantly, where is it? All I know right now is that there's obviously a welcoming committee waiting for me there and you've got a S.T.A.R.S. agent held hostage. Do you care to enlighten me on any more details?"

"Why the fuck should I? They're going to kill me if I talk!" the commando grunted.

"And I'm going to kill you if you don't," Jake replied clamping down on his throat, "Why should you be giving me a harder time than you have to? You're going to be dying either way. You might as well make your last moments of life count soldier boy. Be lucky I'm at least giving your rancid ass a choice. Anybody else would've shot you dead already," he spoke before relaxing his grip.

"No…I'm not helping you, not after what you've done to my buddies," Bookmiller defiantly spat.

Jake sighed deeply and ran his fingers along his nose, feeling where the cartilage was misaligned. Taking a deep breath, he mentally counted down from three and with a loud crunch forcefully shoved the gristle back into place, a slight cry at the forced realignment. Sniffing a couple of times to test the straightened airways he returned his attention to the fallen man.

"Well maybe you should've warned your friends not to track me down like a couple of worthless idiots. If they hadn't, then maybe they'd still be alive and you'd all be off slamming down some brewskies and having your way with some other woman," the hitman spat bitterly, his thoughts drifting to that nameless agent held hostage at this oft mentioned campsite.

"Fuck you man. I ain't telling you shit! You're just gonna have to kill me because I ain't no rat!" Cpl. Bookmiller shouted only to receive a round to the ankle from Jake's silenced Beretta for his troubles.

"Do you really think I'd make it that easy for you?" the hitman chuckled bitterly as his pursuer writhed on the ground.

Jake returned his attention to the cabin and stepped around the radioman's bullet-riddled carcass, finding the barrage had also torn apart the radio itself. No doubt the guy's buddies would be showing up wanting to know what happened, meaning he would have to act fast.

A map of the general vicinity was posted on a nearby wall and it was there he found a pushpin on what was listed as the Two Creeks Campground, a name he recalled from that sign on the bridge, and four other locations listed as 'Pillars,' likely a designated call sign he thought to himself.

He suddenly remembered the compass mounted on his wrist and shifted through some of its options, eventually finding it possessed a feature where he could type in the exact coordinates of a location to lead him there. Looking back to the map he found the coordinates and typed them in, presented with a map telling him where he was and what route he would have to take.

"Time to move," he whispered to himself and made his way back outside, where Anim Bookmiller still writhed on the ground in agony, likely to die from blood loss very soon. Jake ignored the man and looked to the special shotgun which lay on the ground inches away from him and picked it up. It was a USAS-12 assault shotgun that was equipped to fire explosive rounds, a definite must for where he was heading to. He checked for how many shells it currently held and then went over and forcibly looted any spares from the injured man before starting towards his next destination.

For Jake Cavanaugh he had to wonder if this was going to be another unnecessary case of heroism on his behalf. He would find himself putting his neck on the line to try rescuing some total stranger and had no idea if it would reap any rewards for him.

_"Would it be worth my time?" _was the question repeating in his mind.

Any doubts were quickly dispelled as he thought of this woman and the terror running through her mind as she probably sat bound and gagged, a bunch of commandos who likely hadn't been around a woman in months drooling over her and thinking of what they would do to her in her defenseless state and then what would follow once they had their fun.

He also found himself grimacing at the thought of why Wesker could possibly have a reason for keeping her around. Maybe he had intended to use her as a guinea pig for some warped experiment similar to what Umbrella carried out.

Thinking of the monsters he encountered and how some of those B.O.W.s might have been regular human beings at one point, to him that sounded like a fate worse than death.

_"Something that no one should ever have to go through," _Jake told himself as he crossed a rickety wooden bridge over another stream.

Whatever the case was, he was on a new mission to save that woman from ending up in a stasis tube with a virus coursing through her system that would rob her of her humanity.

Perhaps he was more of a hero than he gave himself credit for.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Anim Bookmiller cried out helplessly as he lay on the ground, left in a crippled heap by that bastard Cavanaugh.

The young man's breathing intensified at the thought of dying out in the middle of the wilderness, left to be picked apart by the birds and other woodland critters.

He was already severely weakened by the blood loss after being shot in the ankle and feebly kicked out his good leg, serving only to waste what precious little air he had left, definitely not the way he could have pictured himself dying.

Looking over to his dead colleagues it seemed like they had been given a luxury compared to him, a quicker, more painless death than what he was staring down the barrel of.

Death, it was all that was on his mind right now. He knew he was going to die and never before had he been so transfixed upon the subject, even as he was dishing it out on the battlefield. How things could be so different when it was finally his turn to meet the Reaper.

Footsteps broke the ground next to him, every footfall with purpose, coming towards him. Was that Cavanaugh punk coming to finish him off? He was left to lay there, no means of defending himself.

He had to face it; he was going to die a cheap death, not the romanticized warrior kind of way.

He could only wait to accept his fate as the black-clad figure drew near and stood over him, much like the Grim Reaper himself – wait no, it wasn't Cavanaugh!

"Cpl. Bookmiller," Albert Wesker spoke calmly standing over the fallen man, the same informal and dispassionate approach he took with all of them, "I see you have encountered Mr. Cavanaugh. Obviously it didn't result in the outcome which you expected."

The lax attitude burned into his soul and he felt his anger rising, "Fuck you…Wesker!" he blurted out. Normally he wouldn't have acted out in such a manner, knowing what fate would befall him and anyone else who did such.

Right now, he was on Death's Door and felt like he could say whatever the hell he wanted, knowing it wouldn't matter.

"Hmph, you always were a good soldier Corporal, always good at following orders and completing your missions as assigned, and now the sudden change in attitude," the supervisor smirked, "Oh well, there's nothing more I can do for you at this point."

For Albert Wesker, his top priority was finding Jake Cavanaugh and he left Cpl. Anim Bookmiller to his impending fate.

_"I'm getting closer Cavanaugh. I can hear your footsteps and smell your stench. It's only a matter of time," _he told himself, continuing the game of cat and mouse.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: And so concludes yet another installment of "Reborn" from yours truly!

I just wanted to point out that there may be some possible instances which might seem a little too unrealistic compared to what could happen in real life, as pointed out by my beta reader, but at the same time I'm trying to do what I can to depict Jake outfoxing his pursuers in a more realistic fashion as this time around he is just a normal human fighting with only the weapons he has foraged, compared to the original where I had him injected with that serum that gave him those flame-producing powers and enhanced physical characteristics.

If there are any tech/survival geeks out there who can offer some helpful suggestions, then I gladly welcome your input as long as you are respectful about it. I say that because in the original story I had to put up with a couple of guys who were hardcore anal retentive assholes when it came to real-life technical aspects of certain weapons and what not.

I tried to base some of the happenings in this chapter around what Naked Snake could do to his enemies in "Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater," as well as some of what I saw in the original "Predator" movie.

I gave him the thermal goggles in this installment to try putting him on a more even level with the professionally trained killers he was going up against and also to make it seem a little more realistic that he would be able to survive in the woods against the H.C.F. guys and their guys and battlefield technology.

Well I hope I've covered everything in this ending rant so until then read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	53. Ch 52: Unlikely Savior

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And finally the Metal Harbinger has returned to the land of Resident Evil ficdom! I had started on this chapter and got up to around page 10 or so when I realized I was running into quite a few creative roadblocks, so I ended up having to restart this from scratch and am hoping this turned out better than the last time around.

I'll let you the reader be the judge of that…

Chapter 52: Unlikely Savior

Jake breathed deeply as he waited for his next target to pass underneath, the masked man waving his halogen light back and forth as he scanned the area for his elusive target.

_"That's right, come to me. Just a little closer…" _he mentally told himself as the commando drew nearer, _"…just a little closer…and now!"_

Descending from the branch on which he perched himself, he dropped onto the lone gunman and flattened him with his bodyweight. With his prey pinned to the ground, Jake drove his knife into the man's exposed neck and pulled out a once glistening blade now covered with slick fresh blood from its tip to the handle.

"Hope you got the point," he whispered to his fresh kill, smirking at his pun as he grabbed the man by the ankles and dragged his carcass behind a large rock before relieving him of his unused ammo.

This had been the first commando he had seen in a while as he drew closer to the Two Creek Campground, or 'Point Spartacus' as they called it, and he assumed a majority of the remaining troopers had been standing guard around the campsite.

He could have been considered insane to knowingly approach an establishment in the middle of nowhere that was likely crawling with more of those spooks and quite frankly he was inclined to agree with those who would assume such.

Yet at the same time, he thought of that nameless woman being held hostage and again what could become of her if he did nothing and allowed her to remain in captivity. Would a bunch of testosterone-driven hornballs have turned her into their personal plaything to share at will, or would Wesker take her to some hidden lab and do God knows what to her?

Both outcomes would have resulted in a fate which nobody deserved and Jake would see to it she didn't have to endure either.

He knelt down behind a large rock not too far from where he stashed his latest kill and lifted his goggles to see the glow of artificial illumination from a distance and could hear the idling of a Humvee's engine. Looking down at his wrist-mounted compass confirmed it to be his destination and he lowered his thermal goggles to see several figures moving back and forth, but from this distance they were all tiny blips, meaning he would need to get closer to determine how many he would be dealing with as he pushed himself closer to the lion's den.

The hitman made another check over his inventory, still armed with his H&K MK23 (plus silencer), M4A1 assault carbine, katana, combat knife and now the USAS-12 assault shotgun he recently acquired from Cpl. Bookmiller, complete with Frag-12 explosive shells. He was confident he had enough ammo to wage a one man assault against the occupying forces, still feeling an adrenaline high after successfully outfoxing and eliminating several of those commandos on the path of destruction that led him to this point.

He had to remind himself for the hundredth time there was no turning back. All the blood on his hands assured he was in too far deep and would have to kill every single one of those bastards or risk being hunted to the ends of the earth.

_"I've never run from a fight in my entire life and I'm not about to start," _Jake thought to himself creeping along the trail until he noticed a figure coming towards him. Leaping behind a tree for cover, the hitman quickly withdrew his silenced H&K and waited for the commando to come closer before leaping out and firing four rounds into the trooper's face and poorly-armored neck. With the commando dispatched he proceeded to relieve the fallen grunt of his ammo and dragged his body into the nearby shrubbery, kicking some dirt over the crimson streaks to disguise any traces of his fresh kill.

In hindsight, that might not have been worth it given how sparsely occupied the trail had been. Every second wasted on menial things was likely one second closer to one of those horned up commandos going in to wherever they were holding that woman, ripping off her clothes (if they hadn't already) and having their merry little way with her.

_"Don't fucking kid yourself Jake," _he reminded himself, _"Every little bullet counts with all the bastards you've encountered," _he thought looking towards the shrubbery bathed in darkness around him, reminded of the threats finding sanctuary from the naked eyes of their prey as they got into position and waited to make their strike. He suddenly found himself wondering if the area was as sparsely populated as initially assumed, _"That's how it was with all those freaks back in Raccoon-"_

Jake grunted loudly and tensed his muscles on purpose, needing to extricate himself from the torrent of possibilities again pouring into his head and impeding his progress.

"Goddamn it, focus on the real world," he hissed through gritted teeth, tensing the muscles in his face before he slowly opened his eyes and saw nothing had leapt out of the blackness to kill him in cold blood. "Remember what you were telling yourself about needing to save that woman," he whispered, mentally slapping himself to be reminded of his primary objective, one he would be rapidly losing ground on if he stood around with his thumb up his ass.

All of this solitude had given him plenty of time to be alone with his thoughts. Normally it was something he would have loved, especially when it involved him being alone in the woods, but now it was a bane. It had distracted him from the task at hand and furthermore, the lulls were leaving him open to possible sneak attacks.

_"Gotta keep your head in the game Jake," _he scolded himself, _"You keep this shit up and you'll be just another tally on their list. As stone cold as these guys are, they're probably looking to see who can score the most kills, the loser most likely being the one who will have to buy the drinks afterward," _he thought sweeping his rifle back and forth trying to keep his eyes open for any shadows that moved too suddenly. _"You're not gonna give them that chance to celebrate. Nope, not one of those clowns is going to be the one to boast to the guys back at the barracks that he's the one who took down the infamous 'Red Dragon' Jake Cavanaugh. Fuck no, not happening tonight!"_

The hitman trudged along the narrow winding trail closer to the glowing lights and soon he was ascending to a higher level and kept moving further along until he found a clearing in the shrubbery before him to kneel down and then crawl on his belly to peek through, hopefully unseen by those occupying the camp.

The Two Creeks Campground was a wide open clearing in an otherwise heavily forested area. Ten log cabins ringed out the center, each of which appearing to be the size of a regular bungalow, small enough for one family in each dwelling. Outside the circle were a few more buildings, one of which had a sign hanging overhead introducing it as _'Trader Tom's Souvenir Shack' _and another one next to it with a large red cross on the front door revealing it as the infirmary. The other buildings he assumed also held some form of importance before the H.C.F. takeover, but now was not the time to speculate.

Peering through his goggles Jake was able to make out all of the dark-clad soldiers in the dead of night, most of them on patrol while a few gathered for a quick lunch break around the remnants of a long ago burnt out campfire, all of them seated on cut down logs. It was an odd sight for the hitman to see a bunch of men sitting around nothing, but then again these were mercenaries who didn't have the time for roasting marshmallows, swapping ghost stories, or singing Kumbaya. Mostly likely they didn't want to attract the attention of outsiders who would have seen the pillar of smoke rising above the trees.

There was a dirt road towards the back of the clearing where two more of those jet black Humvees sat, only one of their turrets manned. In front of them was a sandbag fortification with a line of razor wire strewn along the top. A mounted .50 caliber machinegun was set up behind the makeshift rampart with a trooper in the midst of a smoke break standing nearby and two more commandos standing guard at each side. Thanks to his thermal imaging he could see more landmines spread out along the path. He surmised the road may have led to the nearest community, or at least a major highway that would take him back to civilization. All he would need to do now is grab the girl and find a means of transportation, right after dealing with the hostiles of course.

Mentally counting the number of figures moving about in the open, he estimated there were about fourteen soldiers present, not counting those who manned the barricade, plus the two more who were perched on the rooftops of cottages armed with sniper rifles. In addition to those moving about outdoors, he was able to see through one of the building's wooden exteriors and pick out the heat signature of a trooper sitting in front of a box-like device emitting its own shade of warmth, assuming the building was set up as a communications station.

Enhancing his sights, Jake moved away from the main concourse and took notice of the buildings in the distance, including one where four guards stood around and he got an idea of what they were guarding – no, _who_ they were guarding.

He could make out a figure inside the building sitting on a bed, looking to be resting with their head on their arms, not something he would have expected from one of those commandos, but someone beaten down and defeated, someone lacking hope.

_"That must be her," _Jake said to himself. If it was her, then she still appeared very much alive and he felt a cautious wave of relief that his journey had not been in vain.

If it was somebody else, then he still had a reason worth being here, remembering what he had read from Sebastian's diary of what his colleagues had done to people taken in from the streets. It was safe to assume these H.C.F. assholes were no different and he shuddered at the thought of what could happen to this person if they were allowed to be transported to some hidden away facility similar to what he encountered beneath Raccoon City.

He wouldn't allow another innocent bystander to suffer as the long ago buried 'good Samaritan' within him was beginning to claw its way back to the surface and commanded he help this unfortunate soul.

From where he was now he would have a bit of ground to cover, but at least he had an idea of where he would need to travel to.

The only obstacle between him and the hostage was twenty-five troopers and how he would get past them was going to take a whole hell of a lot of planning and stealth.

_"Once again the big guy decides to have some fun with you," _he sarcastically told himself as he slowly pushed back to his feet, _"Man, you really must have pissed someone off to have this dumped onto your plate."_

"Shut up," Jake hissed to the ethereal voice within his head making another inspection of the M4A1.

Granted he was in for another daunting task some would decry as impossible and others suicidal as the lion's den beckoned him forth.

_"I sure picked a good time to decide to be a Boy Scout, but I'm not going to sit around and wonder 'what if,'" _he told himself as he began his descent towards the lower ground that would take him near the non-existent campfire where five men sat around.

"Man, I tell you that woman doesn't look half bad," one of the unmasked commandos chuckled to his comrades as he continued through his ration, "If I wasn't on the clock I'd be all for going a few rounds with her."

"Keep it in your pants Hanley," a dark-skinned colleague snapped, "Hope you're not stupid enough to think everything with tits and a pussy wants to crawl in bed with you."

"Fuck you-" the blond-haired man shot back, only to be halted by another trooper before he could go any further.

"Both of you just shut the fuck up," a balding Asian man snapped, "Remember our orders, Wesker said the woman wasn't to be touched. You've seen what that guy can do and I for one am not willing to test him."

"He might have some fancy powers and all, but there still has to be some way he'll go down if it ever comes to that," the macho trooper called Hanley shot back, causing several of his colleagues to gasp in trepidation at the man's hubris. It was safe to say these men knew of what Albert Wesker could do and even he would have thought to himself 'How could this guy be that much of a fucking idiot?' had he had a super powered boss like the enigmatic former S.T.A.R.S. captain?

"Whatever you say," was all the Asian man offered in reply, looking around as if he assumed the inhuman supervisor possessed some form of extraordinary hearing. "It's your funeral," he added rising back to his feet and reaching for his gasmask.

"I've been around here longer than you Nguyen and trust me; there is a way to kill all of those freaks, no matter what kind of virus they've got inside of them," the arrogant trooper shot back. His colleagues began muttering amongst themselves and could be seen rising to their feet ready to take off in opposite directions, not wanting to be anywhere near when the superhuman supervisor jumped out of the shadows to literally rip the guy's head from his shoulders for his superciliousness.

"Heh, fuck you all I gotta piss anyway," Hanley said rising to his feet, "Remember, you still owe me fifty bucks for that Corsairs game," he spoke to the dark-skinned man before leaving the sitting area.

Jake stood within the shadow of a tall tree as the man came near him and watched as he found a secluded spot between two tall trees.

"Fuck all those losers," Hanley groaned as he unzipped his pants and proceeded to relieve himself, "I've killed more than one Tyrant in my day."

The hitman studied the commando closely: a big muscular guy around his size who likely had plenty of hand-to-hand combat training and had likely survived his fair share of skirmishes hence the cocksure attitude. No doubt he could have given Jake a run for his money in a direct confrontation, but here he was now in a very vulnerable position and was prime pickings.

Jake looked over to see there was nobody left at the fire pit, a good thing as they would have gotten suspicious when their buddy wouldn't have returned after a few seconds. Given this guy's loud, boastful nature, his sudden disappearance would definitely go noticed either way when he wasn't there to make some smartass comments to his fellow troopers.

_"If I'm lucky enough, then they think he's a bigger dick than what I'd assume," _the hitman thought drawing his knife from his holster, _"At least then he won't be missed to the point of them moving Heaven and Earth trying to get me."_

Jake looked down to make sure there weren't any dead leaves behind the man, but did notice some areas where the earth had recently been disturbed, a possible 'graveyard' for some of their other victims.

Creeping around the freshly moved mounds the hired gun raised his arm when he had gotten directly behind the trooper, raising his other hand and cupping it over the man's mouth and jabbing the knife's tip into his jugular, wanting the least amount of struggle as possible.

The big man was quick to surrender to the throes of Death, his motionless body dragged backwards by his killer into a large cluster of bushes, stripped of his ammo before he was concealed from view in the best manner possible which his unseen assailant could muster.

_"That's one of you bastards down," _Jake thought ripping off a strip of the man's pant leg and using it to wipe the blood from his blade before sliding it back into its holster.

The hired gun switched on his goggles and scanned the area, finding more of those commandos moving around, yet they were spread out far enough to where he was hopeful he would be able to leave the safety of the natural cover surrounding the abandoned campground.

_"Here goes nothing," _he told himself, stepping out from behind a large tree and throwing himself against one of the cabin's outer walls, listening for movement before continuing.

He crept along until he reached the corner; only to find himself halting as the ray of a rifle-mounted flashlight pierced his would-be route.

_"Looks like I'll need you sooner than I thought," _Jake mentally spoke again withdrawing his knife from its holster, in a way that almost made it sound like a person, a very dangerous person.

He waited in position and listened as the unseen trooper drew nearer, the torch's shaft of light growing with every step taken towards him, the hitman only able to finally hear the crunch of gravel beneath the man's soft-soled boots when he was nearly on top of him.

_"That's right just keep on coming," _Jake thought, hearing his blade's cries of hunger, ready to leap out and quietly eliminate the faceless trooper.

Then the footsteps stopped.

Jake watched as the beam of light hovered in place and then suddenly disappeared. Peeking around the corner he watched as the sentry had turned his back and was walking away.

It brought some relief, yet left him keeping his knife drawn knowing his enemies were getting dangerously close to him.

With the latest guard out of the way Jake bolted for cover behind the next cabin, from where his goggles picked up the heat signatures of another guard patrolling around the corner. Needing to be quiet he slowed his pace as he crept along the exterior wall and was about to make another bold dash when he was halted by a red laser cutting through his field of vision.

He barely caught himself, remembering the sniper on the rooftop – no, two of them, both able to pick him out the second he was caught by their laser. Even if he could dodge their shot he would still have to contend with the allies they would dispatch. He wouldn't be able to elude them for a few moments and then make his way back to the area once he thought the coast to be clear. These men wouldn't just give up; they would track him down to the darkest corners of this forest, overturning every log and stone to find him and then bag him and tag him.

Jake knelt down as he watched the thin shaft of blood red light, which remained focused on the area before him with no signs of diverting. Could the sniper have gotten suspicious he wondered, perhaps killing that loudmouth hadn't been the smartest idea after all.

With the hiss of radio chatter the light moved out of sight and silently thanking his good fortune the hitman bolted over to the next building where he could hear music from within, yet didn't hear anything to indicate current human occupation and he continued about, rounding a corner to find a commando obsessively scanning his rifle's barrel back and forth in front of him, yet not bothering to check his rear flank. His movements were fidgety and he could be heard muttering something to himself, an unintelligible grumble from where the hitman said. It was almost like he expected company and he were waiting for his adversary to make their presence felt.

_"He expected right," _Jake told himself sizing up his target, crouch walking behind the man with his blade held high and pointing at a downward angle, ready to make that oh so important jugular strike.

_"How are things over on the eastern perimeter?" _a voice called out over the man's radio, causing him to jump.

_"Crenshaw, is everything alright? Do you copy?" _the voice spoke up as the man struggled to regain his bearings.

"Yeah, yeah I copy!" the man spoke finally steadying his hand and speaking into the receiver, "Don't see anything out of the ordinary here. I'll keep you posted."

_"Understood," _the man on the other end replied and the line went dead.

Before he could clip the receiver back into place, Jake pounced the man and was driving the blade into his throat, holding his hand over the man's mouth as the life ebbed from his body along with the crimson liquid draining from his neck.

With another head claimed Jake looked around for someplace he could stash the corpse after relieving the newly-deceased man of his ammo. Fortunately there was a small supply shed behind one of the cabins and he tried the door and found it unlocked. Looking both ways he eased the door open and dragged the man's body inside, propping it up in the darkest corner and hoping it would be a while before anybody noticed the man had gone missing.

_"Gotta keep your body count to a minimum," _he warned himself, again remembering the commandos would start getting suspicious if too many of their number weren't able to respond to their radio calls.

Speaking of the man's radio, the hitman removed it from its clip and stomped it into pieces, using his boot to sweep the jagged shards of plastic out of plain view before making his way back outside to resume his mission of mercy.

The footsteps in the grass and hiss of radio static became more frequent, telling him he was getting closer to his objective and so were the close calls, the hitman managing to take cover behind a parked Humvee just before another one of the snipers caught him in his sights and then being forced to climb under the off-road vehicle as two more commandos walked past.

When the guards separated Jake pulled himself out from underneath and repeated his process of leaping for cover behind another building and when he peeked through a rear window it was then he realized he had reached the infirmary after seeing the medical supplies in the glint of moonlight.

Inside he also picked up another individual, someone who had been sitting in a chair with their head slumped downward and hanging to the side at an awkward angle. Through the flash of light from outside he was able to make out a glint coming from what he assumed to be the figure's wrists.

_"Handcuffs?" _he asked himself.

Whoever this person was their heat signature hadn't shown up and that could only mean one thing, they were dead. No doubt they had been tortured, but the darkness in the room would mask the brutality inflicted upon the unfortunate soul. Having seen his fair share of brutality while a member of the O'Bannon Mob he was thankful he wasn't able to see what it would be.

If there had been more than one survivor from that helicopter crash then he was left surprised they would bother taking someone alive, those freshly dug graves leaving him to wonder how many people had been aboard the chopper before it met its end.

_"Then again, this survivor has tits. Of course they'll wanna have some fun before they kill her," _Jake thought, remembering how a few of Old Man O'Bannon's boys had wanted to 'have some fun' with the daughter of a local mafia boss as they waited for her father to pay up on the ransom. It was only Eddie's presence that had prevented him from killing the one guy who had nearly succeeded in his attempt, some schmuck whose name he didn't even bother to learn, only for the would-be rapist to have his brains splattered all over the wall when Mancini's men showed up.

The hitman quietly slipped past another guard as he systematically made his way towards the cabin turned holding cell, catching himself from stepping on a discarded beer bottle as he barely avoided being swallowed up by the light from another trooper's gun followed by the red ray of a sniper's rifle, soon finding himself positioned beneath the same man.

_"How are things looking up there?" _a voice called out over the sniper's radio.

"So far all is clear. When's Wesker coming back? I'm fucking bored up here. I didn't sign up just to enjoy the scenery," the sniper lamented, "How about you Kluge? Seeing anything on your end?"

_"That would be a negative. You'd think there'd be something to shoot at around here," _the other sniper replied.

"Heh, well you already your fun when that researcher bitch tried escaping," the first gunman replied, "Then again, we've been hearing around that Cavanaugh's still on the loose. No doubt he'll be through if he thinks there's campers here who can spare him an extra weenie."

The bellicose gunman's comments left Jake fighting the urge to reach for his carbine, wondering why he should leave the punk waiting when he could have him right then and there.

_"Body count Jake, remember you want it at an absolute minimum," _the voice within told him, _"Christ, with all these urges to draw your gun you ought to be wondering if that makes you any better than them?" _he thought as another man moved in front of him, knowing a bullet to the back of his head would draw his friends like flies to shit.

Jake crept quietly beneath the sniper, watching the red trail of his rifle's scope and waited until he looked away before leaping behind a large metal crate and descending an incline that would bring him closer to his intended destination.

The four guards continued their vigil of the lone captive, all of them move in a counterclockwise circle with a rotation every few seconds. He observed their practiced movements, predictable yet with deadly consequences awaiting a lone wolf like him. They moved at a pace close enough where they would be able to converge upon him with guns blazing in the instance of him attacking one of their brethren. He would need to find some means for breaking them up, get them far away long enough where he could slip in, grab the woman and _try_ to make his escape.

He observed the cabin itself and the surrounding area in an attempt to map out his game plan. A Humvee was parked nearby, something he could use for cover as it was high enough off the ground for him to crawl beneath if necessary. As for the lodge itself, the cardinal rule of any hostage taking scenario would be that the front door was always locked. Smashing a window would be too noisy, plus he doubted he would be able to fit through the frame given his muscular build, plus the added risk of him cutting himself on the glass.

Fortunately, he was able to see the small bungalow had a skylight he would be able to sneak through. The only question though would be how to reach it, but then he saw the small building also had a chimney and he figured the outcroppings could be used for climbing.

Looking through his thermal goggles he could make out landmines placed along the outer reaches of the camp hidden amongst the brush and trees, a disaster waiting for any unfortunate soul who would be likely to happen across this area when the H.C.F. boys pack up shop and leave.

One of them being detonated would send the masked troopers into disarray, forcing them to split up in search of the supposed intruder, hopeful they would find a mangled heap lying at their feet as the blood gushed out from a severed limb.

_"They'll find something alright," _Jake told himself ducking low and making a mad dash over to the foliage, shrugging off the pain coursing through his legs after the numerous battles, accidents and travel by foot all rolled into one had taken a toll upon his muscles. The thought of avoiding a fate similar to the woman was what kept him pushing forth, barely avoiding the gaze of another trooper as he vanished from the clear open spectrum carved into the land by the campground.

Diving behind the cover of a wide oak tree the hired gun was barely able to shield himself from a commando's nightlight attachment. Not wanting the mist of his breath to be spotted he cupped a hand over his mouth and slowly exhaled, waiting until the artificial glow washing over his surroundings subsided.

"Time to get to work," the hitman whispered stepping away from his cover and taking in his surroundings as he planned out his distraction and the kind of exit strategy he would use.

There was a dirt path carved through the foliage to his right, no doubt the trail his opponents would be mostly likely to take once they heard the explosion, meaning he would be forced to cut through the shrubbery. It would be a risky move, but he was sure the panicked troopers shouts and hasty movements would cover up the rustling.

He then looked upward towards the treetops, checking the width of their branches to see if any would be strong enough to support his weight. There was one nearby that looked like it could be scaled, yet the branches looked too flimsy and cabin's rooftop he could have used as his landing pad was too far away.

_"Guess that rules out the death from above approach," _he thought as one of the troopers passed underneath and then back towards the cabin, knowing he wasn't in the mood for a broken leg.

There weren't many other options he could think of aside from charging through the brush knowing speed and stealth would need to be his allies. Granted there were probably other paths that could be taken, but now wasn't the time to be some ace tactician. He sifted through the underbrush for anything heavy enough to detonate one of the mines, finding a log cleanly sawn through by a chainsaw and weighing approximately fifteen pounds.

"Here goes," he whispered taking a few steps back and with a mighty heave hurled the log onto the mine.

A loud explosion shattered the tranquil silence of the forest and as expected the commandos jumped to attention, their halogen lights piercing the darkness around them and forcing Jake down to his belly.

"That came from over there!" he heard one of the men calling out, "You two, come with me! You, stay and guard the woman," the same man called out.

Jake could hear other voices calling out and peeked his head up to see two additional troopers flanking the original trio, all of them spreading out as they approached the foliage. Seeing one of them getting too close for comfort he knelt back down and crawled along the dirt on his belly, rising to his hands and knees when he was confident the men were out of reach and then he sprinted towards the cabin, mistiming his step and hitting the Humvee.

"Motherfucker," he hissed to himself, fresh waves of pain shooting up and down his right leg, finding himself taken back to his accident from a few nights earlier. There was no time to sit around and bitch as shafts of artificial light crept over the Humvee's hood and nearly caught him in.

Jake quickly crouched down and pulled himself underneath the black vehicle just in time to see the lone guard creeping towards him with his rifle drawn. Reaching down for his shin holster he withdrew the combat knife and waited for the man to get closer, raising his other hand to block out the blinding light.

"Huh?" the masked man gasped, but before he knew it Jake was grabbing him by the arm which held his rifle and yanked him right into the Humvee, stunning him long enough for the hitman to grab his head and drive the blade into his throat.

Having claimed his third victim in the camp, Jake searched the man for any keys but found nothing and pulled him underneath the Humvee.

Looking around to make sure nobody else was nearby the hitman quickly made his way around the back of the cabin and inspected the chimney to make sure he would have a steady foothold. Finding the rocks sticking out enough he began his climb, again finding himself forced to shrug off the torrents of fresh pain shooting through his leg with every movement of his right leg, swearing he could feel the scabbed over cuts popping open beneath their bandages.

It wasn't long before he had finally reached the rooftop and with no time to unscrew the skylight open, he brought the butt of his carbine done and shattered it, clearing any shards out of the way before making his way through and quickly dropping inside either of the snipers could spot him.

The hitman dropped into a room well-lit by the moonlight and he could see the fireplace before him along with some decorations lining the walls. To his left were a wardrobe and a dresser with a shattered mirror over it and resting on the latter he saw what appeared to be soiled bandages and lying on the floor below, an emptied medical bag.

And then a soft gasp caught his attention, one that mixed fear along with physical pain.

Jake's eyes shifted back towards the fireplace and he finally noticed the two beds situated across from each other at opposite sides of the room and on one of them he noticed someone lying. Pulling down his goggles he detected no heat signature from the person on the bed, telling him they were dead, but rather from a figure cringing in the northwestern corner.

His objective in sight, the hired gun cautiously lowered his carbine and crept towards the woman, who let out a horrified gasp just as he reached his hand out towards her.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" he hissed towards the woman before kneeling down to lay the M4A1 on the floor, along with his sidearm, the shotgun and his sword, but leaving his knife on him just in case. "Ma'am, you can settle down, I'm not going to hurt you!" he repeated raising his hands to his sides to show her he meant no harm.

A hoarse whimper escaped the woman's lips and she only seemed to burrow further into the corner which she dug herself.

"Just leave me alone you bastard!" she choked out before protectively throwing her hands over her head.

"I'm not with them," Jake said cautiously taking a step towards her and again kneeling down, "Those people tried to kill me too."

He could see the woman slowly lower her arms and lift her head in his direction, yet it was only for a split second. She still didn't trust him, yet he wasn't going to give up the fight.

"Please, just listen to me; you don't have to worry about me trying to hurt you. I came here to rescue you," Jake said reaching out his hand towards the woman, only to halt when he saw her head turn towards him.

Her long greasy hair obscured her facial features and her breaths were heavy and ragged, making her look like something straight out of a horror movie. She held herself closely and in the moonlight he could make out several cuts and bruises dotting her filthy arms, like she had survived an accident, and it was then his mind was taken back to the helicopter wreck.

"Did Captain Kenner's message get through?" she quietly asked.

Kenner, where did he remember that name from? Oh right, he remembered seeing it on the nametag of that one guy back at the makeshift crematorium in Springvale – one of the guys in a S.T.A.R.S. uniform!

"What are you talking about?" Jake replied.

There was no reply for several tense seconds until a deflated sigh escaped the woman's lips, "He sent a message through…he tried to, tried to reach the cavalry for help."

Jake stared hard back at the woman, knowing he was about to say something she wasn't going to like.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but there won't be a cavalry coming to your rescue. It's just me here by myself, nobody sent me," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Then why are you here?" she demanded, halting herself when she realized how forceful she had sounded.

"I overheard those punks talking about taking a woman hostage. After all the fucked up shit I've seen around here and Raccoon, there was no way in hell I was going to sit back and let them drag you off to some lab somewhere in the middle of nowhere and do God knows what to you," the hired gun replied.

"Raccoon?" she gasped, "That guy who contacted the Captain was from there!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about," Jake admitted, steeling himself for any hostile actions that may have followed.

Instead the woman scooted towards him while still in a sitting position and brushed aside strands of her long, greasy red hair to reveal her youthful face underneath, albeit covered in grime with a still bleeding cut running along the uppermost corner of her forehead, sullying an otherwise fair complexion. Her normally sparkling light green eyes were bloodshot from a recent crying spell with fresh tears still stinging away at the corners. He looked down to notice the burgundy-colored vest she wore and his eyes widened when he saw the now all too familiar patch on her t-shirt sleeve underneath.

She was a S.T.A.R.S. member!

"Some guy contacted Captain Kenner a few days ago, some guy who claimed to be a S.T.A.R.S. member himself," she replied before halting to scan her thoughts, "A Redfield guy…yeah, that was his name, Redfield!"

Again Jake could feel the bells and whistles going off inside his head. No question she was talking about Chris Redfield, Claire's older brother whom she had ventured to Raccoon City seeking knowledge of his whereabouts.

"You said you were in Raccoon? Did you find him? Did the outbreak spread over there too?" she demanded.

"I'm afraid I didn't find this Redfield guy you speak of, but I did run into his sister. We barely made it out alive," Jake replied before continuing forth, "Indeed Raccoon was overrun, but I think you've got it all backwards. This bullshit started there and spread over to Springvale, not the other way around."

"Oh god…do you think it could've spread further?" the woman replied offering a quiet gasp before holding herself when she was overcome by a sudden chill, a dirtied white sash on her right arm identifying her as a medic, explaining the emptied medical bag lying near the dresser. Again her breathing became terse and ragged before she looked over to the corpse lying on the bed.

"Dean…" she muttered, a fresh wave of tears overcoming her as she reached into her pocket and pulled something out, looking at it intently before the quiet sobs took over.

Jake looked over to the body lying before him, a young blond-haired man who had been around his age, wearing a pair of tattered tan cargo pants and a long-sleeved white shirt now covered with a large crimson splotch over his abdominal area.

"Those bastards shot him after the chopper went down," she muttered, proving his theory she could have been one of the passengers on the doomed flight. "Oh god…they're all dead…Dean, the Captain, Chapel, Villalobos…if those bastards didn't shoot them…those…'things' got them…" her voice quivering as she struggled to explain, "Oh god…if only those bastards wouldn't have taken his guns…I could've buried them with his ID…"

In the moonlight Jake was able to make out what she held in her hand. It was a S.T.A.R.S. ID card that belonged to the dead man, Dean Montrose was his name. He must have been a damned good cop and had probably seen his fair share of combat in order to be one of them, a young man who had a life before all this and likely had a lot who cared for him, including the woman. Her sobs grew in force, a sign she may have cared for the man as more than just a teammate.

"My god…how could I have failed you like that Dean," she cried out, halted when Jake clamped a hand on her shoulder, seeing the flash of a rifle-mounted flashlight from outside.

"Listen to me, I'm deeply sorry for your loss, but right now we need to focus on getting the hell out of here and finding some place that is hopefully safe, at least long enough for us to take a short breather," Jake spoke, the haunting specter of a zombie pandemic creeping back into his thoughts and again leaving him wondering if any other communities had been hit by the outbreak.

The woman nodded, yet her gaze remained locked on the dead man.

"I'm Jake by the way, who are you?" the hitman asked.

"Quigley," she blurted out, "Sara Quigley."

"Sara listen to me, we need to get moving. Is there anything you can tell me that you know about the area? Any routes we can take to get us out of here?" Jake asked returning his gaze to the window and listening for any movement from the outside.

"I don't know," she ruefully replied, "I've never been to this part of the state, but I think I did overhear them saying something about a place called 'Lookout Point.' I don't know what that is either, probably a peak or something."

"Well we've gotta find some way out of here, that's for damned sure," Jake said cautiously rising back to his feet and reaching a hand out to help her.

"Sorry, I can't move that much," Sara replied looking back towards her leg, pulling back the tattered remnants of her tattered right pant leg to reveal the limb bandaged all the way down beneath her kneecap.

"Bear trap," was all she offered.

_"Damn it, she's only going to slow you down!" _the voice in his head called out, _"Smooth move wise guy. She's going to get you killed."_

"Jake, are you alright?" Sara asked looking towards him fearfully.

The hitman was snapped out of his trance and shook his head, "Yeah, I'm fine…really. Is there anything else I should know?"

"There were others who were brought here with us after the chopper went down, but I'm thinking they must be…" Sara stopped herself before she could utter the final word, her jaw clenching tight. Jake didn't need to hear the last word to know what she meant and again kept his eyes focused on the nearest window. He remembered what that one sniper said about taking down some 'researcher bitch,' no doubt someone she had arrived with. Not wanting to put her through any more agony he neglected to mention her presence.

"Dr. Griffin had a whole bunch of notes on him that he rounded up from back at the facility. We have to get them back so we can expose Umbrella's activities, but I don't know if we can do that now," Sara added looking towards the window, "All those bastards running around out there. They'd kill us both."

"I managed to sneak in here, did I not?" Jake frowned at her comment, forcing her to back down, "Just tell me where this doctor friend of yours is and I'll find the documents he was carrying."

"Last I know he was in the infirmary…at least that's where they left him before the dragged me over here," Sara replied.

_"Must be that handcuffed fellow I saw back there," _he thought to himself, _"Looks like I might have to play 'errand boy' again, if only I'll be able to find a way out of here," _his mind added when he looked towards the broken skylight.

"Alright, I'm gonna have to find some way to get back there and get his notes. I promise I'll come back for you and then we'll have to find some way to get out of here," Jake replied before he heard a voice from outside.

"Where the hell is Wangaard? I told him to stay put!" a trooper called out, recognizing it as the voice of the man leading the search.

"Do you think-" another commando asked before a flashlight shone through the window to his left.

"Sara, I'm gonna need you to find a place to hide," Jake said readying his carbine and taking cover behind the unoccupied bed to his right, "This is gonna get pretty fucking ugly."

With a thunderous crack the cabin's door was knocked from its hinges and a commando came barreling in, only to be cut down by a burst from the hitman's M4A1.

"He's here!" a voice called from outside before gunfire riddled the front of the cabin, forcing both its inhabitants to the floor, the bed not high enough for the muscular hitman to hide beneath, forcing him to take cover behind its footboard on his stomach with his rifle positioned in front of him while Sara took cover beneath the other bed which held her fallen teammate.

Another commando peeked inside only to be forced out as Jake fired a barrage, his rounds ripping apart the doorframe. A thunderous roar followed as numerous automatic firearms discharged simultaneously, passing through the shattered front windows and obliterating anything left in their path, as evidenced by the end of a wooden boat paddle that had been crisscrossed with another one as a decoration on the wall above him.

He steeled himself preparing for the grenade likely to follow, as had been the case back in Springvale, yet there was no metallic clunk against the wooden floorboards. It left him wondering if they had really been dead set on taking Sara Quigley alive before his arrival.

There was no time to ponder that possibility as the window above Dean's corpse was smashed open by the butt of an assault rifle and another commando was seen taking aim upon him, forcing the hitman onto his side as he returned fire. A strangled cry let him know at least one of his bullets had connected with his would-be attacker, and likely in an important area too, a possible mortal wound.

More bullets pelted against the building's wooden exterior, some forcing their way through and tearing the bed apart near which Jake hid himself, causing him to slink further into the nearby corner.

Sara meanwhile hid beneath the bed holding her deceased teammate, curled into a fetal position with her hands clamped over her ears and tears squeezing through her closed eyelids, her frightened whimpers returning as the rifles thundered around her and the constant 'thwacks' of her wooden shield being penetrated by the high-caliber rounds left her feeling more vulnerable than ever.

"It's the end of the road Cavanaugh! You're dead! You hear me? You're fucking dead!" one of the men shouted from outside before another barrage of gunfire pelted the cabin's front exterior.

The gunfire continued until there was a sudden wet slash, followed by an arc of blood finding its way through one of the shattered windows.

"What the hell? I thought you killed that thi-GAAAHHHHH!" a commando shouted, followed by another burst of gunfire, which in turn was followed by an inhuman roar that almost reminded the hired gun of William Birkin.

Jake remained silent and looked over to Sara, who shot her eyes open and looked towards the door, where several of the black-clad men could be seen darting back and forth through the narrow space firing against an unseen assailant.

"Stay here, I'm gonna check it out. Don't move until I come back for you," he ordered the battered medic, who nodded in reply.

Jake slithered towards the front door, struggling to see through the thick clouds of gun smoke wafting in through the numerous holes created by the commandos' assault, continuing forth until he was touching the wall and then pulled himself up to peek through the shattered window.

"The hell?" he asked aloud.

"Somebody man the turret!" an unseen voice called out as one of the commandos was sent flying through the Humvee's windshield with several deep holes punched through his bulletproof vest. Responding to the order, one of the troopers managed to climb into the vehicle's gun turret and squeeze off a few rounds before his target leapt onto the roof with the grace of a Hunter and drove its fist into the man's masked face, the loud _'chuk'_ of a person being impaled following.

The being before him appeared roughly human for the most part, albeit its skin a pale shade of gray and hunched posture. Long black hair obscured its face and it wore nothing but a pair of tattered jeans with the remnants of manacles around its ankles. When the nameless attacker raised its blood-drenched fist into the air he noticed the spikes protruding from it, reminding him of one of those medieval 'morning stars.'

A few more commandos approached, including one who was armed with M249, and as they approached the figure turned to meet them and it was then Jake noticed the plethora of scars and fresh wounds blanketing its chest, something no ordinary man could survive, and then when he saw the person's face he knew it definitely wasn't human.

Slanted, reptilian eyes met the commandos and the figure cracked a grin of razor sharp teeth he associated with the Hunters. From out of nowhere, something shot out from the man-like beast's mouth, an extra appendage which almost reminded him of a Venus flytrap, clamping down on the head of one of its attackers and swallowing it whole before the remaining commandos opened fire.

The bullets tore into the mysterious brute, sending blackened blood squirting all over as the monster roared in pain and its left arm began to bubble, shooting out like a flail and knocking two men down, but not killing them, before he charged towards the light machine gunner and delivered an uppercut that sent a spike straight through the man's chin, leaving him to spasm before tossing his corpse aside.

"All…must…die…" the brute growled before rushing over to stomp in the head of one of the men and wrap his lengthened appendage around the other's neck, breaking it with a sickening twist. Before the carnage could continue, a lone gunshot rang out and the monster was clutching its left eye and howling in agony, thrashing about wildly as its organ was destroyed by a high-caliber round from one of the snipers. Forgetting about the remaining commandos pelting it with their rounds the monster took off in pursuit of its far away assailant.

_"I don't know who or _what_ the hell that thing is, but it just saved our asses," _Jake thought to himself slipping through the front door and making his way over to the Humvee, pulling himself onto the roof and tossing the dead gunner aside. "Time to rock n' roll," he said getting himself behind the turret's controls and taking aim on one of the remaining commandos.

Depressing the trigger he squeezed off a torrent of armor-piercing rounds and sending the masked man through the blender. It didn't stop there as another one soon fall with his entire backside eviscerated by the flesh tearing rounds, and then a third would follow before he could even turn around to see what was happening.

Three more troopers were present and they would dive behind the nearest available buildings for cover, their rounds pelting away at the protective shielding at the sides of the mounted gun's barrel. Jake could only continue his counteroffensive knowing the men wouldn't let up until he had taken each one of them out, one of his rounds eventually striking a wooden crate that had been filled with explosives and creating a small explosion that swallowed up one of the attackers.

The squeal of tires came from behind and Jake looked over his shoulder to see another one of the Humvee's charging towards him, its turret manned and the gunner taking aim at him.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, quickly leaping out of his turret before the opposing Humvee could reach him and running alongside Sara's cabin, the gunner opening up and ripping apart much of the wooden building's brittle structure like it was made of paper.

He could only hope Sara was still alright as he strapped the carbine to his shoulder, remembering the USAS-12 and its explosive Frag-12 rounds. Waiting for the Humvee to speed around the corner he raised the assault shotgun and squeezed off a few rounds that exploded as they connected with the urban combat vehicle's side, eventually catching the driver and causing him to slam it head on into one of the cabins. The turret gunner would leap out before impact, but it wasn't long before he would fall to an explosive barrage, granting temporary reprieve for the hitman as he made his way towards the infirmary to gather the notes the S.T.A.R.S. medic had spoken of.

Gunshots echoed from the distance followed by a few small explosion, telling him the remaining commandos were preoccupied by that 'thing' that had unwittingly saved him and Sara, giving him time to continue his objective without interference.

Running up to the infirmary's front door Jake brought his boot up and kicked the door in and switched on his rifle's mounted light.

Immediately he would wish he hadn't.

Dr. Griffin, more appropriately what was left of him, sat handcuffed in the wooden chair at the front of the quarters. A bloody machete lay next to his corpse, its gruesome handiwork even too much for the hitman and left him taking the light away to focus on finding the notes Sara was looking for.

A briefcase rested on a nearby desk covered in various tears and smudges, its state of disrepair warranting the hired gun's attention and he made his way over to pop both the latches, immediately greeted by the all-too-familiar red and white umbrella-shaped logo leaping out like a knockout punch.

Digging further into the case he found stacks of research reports, notes, memos and even a few photographs of the creatures he spotted when he was held in the back of that semi-trailer. It was another trove of information worth its weight in gold, one that could put a company out of business and send a lot of people to jail.

_"No way in hell I'm missing out on this," _he said to himself when he happened across a massive leather-bound book whose exterior had long since weathered through the ages. The name _'S. HATTUCK' _was engraved on the cover in chipped golden letters and if it was in here Jake assumed it had to be important. Opening it up he leafed through its yellowed pages with entries going as far back as the late 1940's and even found a few sketches of creatures borne from questionable experimentation.

_"So this shit's been going on for decades?" _Jake asked himself flipping further through the pages and eventually finding a worn black and white photograph of a dark-haired young man in a nice suit standing before a school. Scribbled on the back it read _'Dennis' high school graduation. 1968.'_

The hitman shut the briefcase and then made his way over to the counter where a few medical supplies remained. Knowing of Sara's injury he grabbed a nearby bag and scooped up whatever he could, including a few rolls of gauze, antiseptics, syringes of morphine, hemostatic pills, aspirin, and two cans of Umbrella-manufactured first-aid spray.

Not wanting to risk encountering the brute or any surviving commandos the hired gun made his way to a window at the back of the building and slid it open, climbing out and preparing to make his way back to Sara's cabin when he heard a burst of static from nearby.

_"Point Spartacus, come in! Repeat, Point Spartacus come in at once! Over!" _a man shouted over the radio before speaking up a few tense seconds later, _"Savitch, are you even there?"_

Jake looked over to one of the nearby cabins to see a portion of its outer wall knocked out and cautiously approaching he looked inside to find another commando slumped over the radio console, the man's head torn messily from his shoulders.

_"Damn it, Savitch come in!" _the radioman from the other end called out worthlessly, unaware his transmission was being forwarded to someone who could no longer receive it.

"No use wasting any more time," Jake whispered, just as he suddenly found himself knocked to the ground by a force from behind.

Shrugging off the fresh wave of pain coursing through his back, the hitman rolled over onto his side to find the perpetrator had been another one of those commandos, the unarmed man having collided with him as he made a desperate attempt to flee from the massacre at hand.

The tattered and bloodied man gasped as he took notice of the hired gun and began backpedaling away for anything he could have used as a weapon against his group's collective target, yet he was left with nothing.

None of that would matter a second later when a mace-like fist swung into the back of his head, shattering his helmet and driving foot long spikes into his skull.

"What the fuck?" Jake hissed pushing himself back to his feet and grabbing for the USAS-12 once again finding himself face to face with the mysterious brute that had once again saved him.

The monster's reptilian eyes seemed to glow in the pale moonlight, narrowing as they took in the mysterious human before him. He tilted his head to the side and sniffed at the air to determine whether or not the person was friendly or if they were like those masked men who had been shooting at it much like the man it just killed.

Jake said nothing as he stared at the being in tense silence, the assault shotgun held close to his body in case the need for its use would arise. The monster had not yet attacked him and he wondered why. Could there actually be a B.O.W. capable of understanding right from wrong, friend from foe, innocent bystander from direct aggressor?

The monster continued to stare at him in silence, tilting his head back and forth in awkward motions as his hands clenched open and shut at his sides, perhaps torn on whether or not he should spare this mysterious fellow or squash him just as he did the others. A quiet sizzle came and Jake watched as the skin around his arms and chest bubbled, slowly mending the fresh bullet wounds dotting its upper torso as well as the extensive burns from an explosive canister that had left a small crater in its abdomen.

It was a stare down so intense neither man paid attention to anything else going on around them, let alone the black blur darting from rooftop to rooftop above them and landing behind the nameless beast, wrapping its arm around the sub human's neck.

There was a loud prick followed by a hiss as a needle was jabbed into its neck and a plunger was depressed.

"You've done your father proud Dennis," an icy voice whispered into the brute's ear as its owner relinquished its grip upon him.

The monster began to twitch violently as the serum ran through its system, its gray skin returning to its former peach hue and its once hunched posture regaining its upright stance, its humanity returning as the virus expelled from his system.

Jake stood in silence as he witnessed a transformation taking place before his very eyes, the brute's face contorting as his eyes regained their once blue coloring and his teeth shortened back to their former less threatening state. He had personally witnessed an infected human turn within his presence, but never the other way around.

Unfortunately for the man called Dennis, the antidote also negated the regenerative properties the virus had granted him, leaving him to succumb to his wounds as he collapsed to his knees, his numerous injuries leaving him to bleed to death.

"Father…" the young man rasped using his last ounce of strength to clutch a handful of dirt and then he collapsed never to rise again.

"Mr. Cavanaugh, we meet again," the callous individual said putting away the gun-like injecting device.

"Wesker," Jake growled, his grip tensing around the assault shotgun as the former S.T.A.R.S captain casually stood before him.

"Your skill impresses me, but your lack of foresight has led to your demise," the blond-haired man intonated as he stood over Dennis' corpse, nudging the man's head aside so it was face down in the dirt.

"You shut your fucking mouth! The only person dying tonight is you!" Jake spat raising the USAS-12 to eye level prompting only strident laughter from the supervisor.

"Stubborn until the end, all of you wannabe hero types are the same, but in the end it's always the same outcome," the man chuckled, lowering his shades down the bridge of his nose so the hitman could look into his lizard-like eyes.

"Heh, you sure talk big for a dead man walking!" Jake replied before squeezing the trigger.

Unfortunately for Jake, the superhuman easily bypassed the explosive Frag-12 round and within a split second his fingers were wrapped around the hitman's throat.

"You learned nothing from our last encounter fool," Wesker growled, effortlessly hoisting his opponent into the air, "I'm done toying with you!"

Jake responded by spitting in his face, temporarily blinding his opponent and giving him enough time to draw his strength into his left leg, driving his boot into the supervisor's groin.

In spite of his newfound superpowers, the blow had a desired effect upon Wesker and he was forced to relinquish his grip upon Jake, giving the hired gun enough time to leap backwards and fire an explosive round into his face.

The supervisor roared in pain after the point blank blast and soon found himself pelted with additional shells, one which would rip three of the fingers away from his left hand and followed by a few more which would rip his hand away beneath the wrist, leaving only a bloody stump.

"You bastard!" he screamed as the vision slowly returned to his eyes, feeling the fresh blood coating his face. By the time he had wiped it all away the hitman had vanished from sight.

But he wasn't far away.

Wesker could hear his footsteps clomping through the dirt and then the rustling of his feet making contact with the grass and the heavy panting as the man ran for his life.

"You won't get far," he quietly declared, looking down to the pointed stump where his left hand had been and then down to the obliterated remnants of his mirrored shades.

With his improved leg strength Albert Wesker leapt onto the rooftop of the nearest cabin, looking down to see his quarry running towards the cabin which had housed the woman. He leapt downward and then caught himself against the exterior of another log building, attempting to propel himself towards the hitman.

Jake barely rolled out of the way and landed on his side, firing one of his shells into the ex-captain's side, but the man would leap out of the way before he could land another, a hole left behind where he missed.

"I'm going to rip you apart," Wesker growled making another charge towards Jake drawing his remaining hand back and going for a power punch, which the hitman barely sidestepped, but the supervisor caught himself and swung around only to be met by a blade to the face.

Jake swung his katana at a downward angle, leaving a diagonal slash across Wesker's already bloodied face, before swinging downward again and slicing into his leg. Before a third slash could be attempted, he was halted by the supervisor's remaining hand clamping down on his throat.

"I don't need two hands to accomplish that," the now one-handed man spat, crushing the hitman's windpipe as he lifted him effortlessly into the air, allowing him to look directly into his inhuman mutated eyes.

"Now I make you pay for your stubbornness," Wesker spat just as his back was riddled with bullets and he flung Jake aside into a nearby crate.

"What now?" the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain growled in annoyance.

Whirling around he found his hostage the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S field medic Sara Quigley with an M4A1 in her filthy hands, barely able to stand on her good leg alone after having fired that barrage.

In the blink of an eye he was over grabbing the young woman by the throat and pinning her against the nearest cabin, looking deep into her green eyes.

"The only reason I ordered you taken alive was because the cure for your daddy's precious virus runs through your veins," Wesker growled leaning closer to her, "but now I'm starting to have second thoughts."

"Shut up about that monster you bastard! I hate him for what he's done to my mother and what he did to all those innocent people!" she spat, defiant to the very end, "You might as well kill me because I will have no part of any more experiments!"

"You're right, I don't need you alive," Wesker said throwing her hard against the wall and withdrawing his gun-like device that carried a syringe built into it, "All I need is your blood."

The H.C.F. supervisor smirked as he stood tall over the young woman, ready to claim her blood before doing who knows what else.

The field medic could only look up towards him in horror, defenseless.

And then the blond-haired man would thrash violently as he was struck from behind by a Frag-12 round, and then another, and then another.

Jake Cavanaugh wasn't out of the game yet, having risen back to his feet and was pelting the super-powered supervisor with explosive rounds from the USAS-12, firing everything he had until the man was collapsing to his knees and continuing to fire away until he was lying flat on his face, convulsing until the final round was expended.

"Go to sleep!" he spat drawing his katana and impaling it through the back of Albert Wesker's head.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered as he stood tall over the supervisor's carcass, delivering one final hard kick to the ribs for good measure.

His attention then turned to Sara Quigley, still struggling to get up as fresh waves of pain cascaded down her leg.

"I thought I told you to wait for me," he said walking over to the field medic and carefully helping her back to her feet.

"What can I say? I was getting bored," she spat harshly before cracking a weak smile, "I helped buy you some time, didn't I?"

There was suddenly a loud _'thwack'_ from behind and the duo looked to find Jake's katana sticking out of the nearby cabin and Albert Wesker's body nowhere to be found!

"Goddamn it!" the hired gun spat looking over and noticing a blood trail along the roof of the nearest cabin, "Fucker got away! C'mon!" he said wrapping the field medic's arm around his shoulder and hauling her along.

"Wait! Don't you think we should try getting back to safety?" Sara inquired noting his battered state and then down to her injured leg.

"No, we can't let that bastard slip away through the cracks! That fucker used me and he tried to kill you! We've gotta stop him before he can hurt anybody else!" Jake said forcefully dragging her along.

Sara looked at him oddly at the mention of her captor 'using him' as she was led down the line of cabins, only to call out when she noticed a familiar face amongst the corpses littering the campground.

"Dennis!" she called out and Jake turned to see her reaching out towards the mysterious brute that had saved him more than once during his stay at Two Creeks. "Hold up," she said trying to pull away.

"What gives?" Jake demanded.

"He's somebody who helped us out when we were underground," the medic said releasing herself from his grasp and then reaching down to pick up a dead man's combat shotgun to use as a crutch as she hobbled her way over to the dead man and knelt beside him.

Reaching into her pocket Sara produced an onyx locket with an ornately engraved gold tree on the cover and slipped it into the dead man's pocket.

"Thank you for everything," she whispered to him before returning to her feet and allowing Jake to once again take her by the arm and they made their way towards the dirt road leading out of the camp, eventually happening across a wooden sign covered in fresh blood, pointing them eastward towards _'Lookout Point,'_ the only he could think of after what Sara told him.

_"No turning back. Time to put this bastard down once and for all," _he told himself as they made their way further into the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment of "Reborn" and in this one a few more elements are touched upon that you will have to stay tuned for answers on.

Yeah I know some of you were probably thinking it was going to be Jill in the cabin, but I will admit that I purposely threw a swerve at all of you, oh well it was still a S.T.A.R.S. member! Sara Quigley was in the original DA and now I bring her back under different circumstances. At one point or another I will try to expand further upon her and the rest of her Eagle Point teammates.

Obviously Jake would have had no idea who could have possibly been on the chopper because he would have been separated from Jill and Carlos for several days by this point, which is what some of you the readers would have been led to believe, and wouldn't have a clue if either one of them were still alive.

Regarding the scene with Jake finding Dr. Griffin I felt describing things in depth there would have been too gruesome for a "T" rated story, for once voluntarily censoring myself, but when you see a machete in the room you'll know right away it was messy!

The inclusion of the monster called "Dennis" was a spur of the moment decision which I thought up as a means of a more logical way Jake would be able to escape from the cabin without having to plow through all of the commandos like he's Rambo, Schwarzenegger or Steven Segal, and in the process look like a "Mary Sue" (or "Marty Stu" because he's a guy).

Again, I'm trying to make him seem like a more realistic character in this rewrite and since I took away the pyro-kinetic abilities he had in the original story, which would have effortlessly enabled him to blaze his way through his opponents, but in hindsight I wanted him to have his struggles, but at the same time found myself boxed in and needing an exit strategy, which worked for me because I still don't have everything set in stone just yet.

Typically I'm not a fan of Anime-type characters in RE stories, which was something that took me quite a while to realize, but with the B.O.W. creatures I make an exception. Dennis is supposed to be inspired to an extent by Lisa Trevor from the original RE's remake.

I have been planning out a few side stories related to the canonical DA universe and within due time I will try to expand upon Dennis and also what Wesker was saying in regards to Sara Quigley's family.

Well I hope that explains a few things for my readers so until then read and review! Once again this is your friendly neighborhood Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	54. Ch 53: Payback's a Bitch

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: Once again your friendly neighborhood Metal Harbinger comes screaming like a demon back into the land of fan-fiction after a two month hiatus, brought upon by a job that keeps him out until 10:15 at night, involves a near hour commute back and forth, and leaves him feeling tired as fuck as soon as he gets home, thus damming the flow of creative juices, but thanks to the almighty weekends I was finally able to gain some ground and here I return!

Now on with the story!

Chapter 53: Payback's a Bitch

Darkness hung overhead as Jake Cavanaugh made his way up the steep incline, relentless in his mission of dark justice.

_"He couldn't have gotten far," _he reminded himself as he progressed further, his feet throbbing as he moved along the rough trail. Over the past week he had survived worse and wasn't going to let some rough patch of earth slow him down.

At this point there was no slowing him down. Anybody foolish enough to impede his progress would be dealt with swiftly and without mercy.

There were many who would say he was crazy, especially in his current battered, exhausted state, to track down a super-powered madman like Albert Wesker, saying he should have just climbed into one of those Humvees and driven away to freedom like any sane person would have. He could just picture those who would be fucked enough in the head to place bets on which way the supervisor would rip him limb from limb, and furthermore, if he would leave _anything_ left for the kind soul constructing his coffin to bury. No doubt there would be at least one person slouched in the corner clutching the rosary, praying for his soul to whatever deity they believed in, something which normally the hitman would have laughed at and told him to 'stop believing everything that fancy picture book tells you.'

If there was a god, it was safe to say he would be asking him "What the hell are you doing making me go after this guy? Why did you find it necessary to rip the last shreds of sanity from my already fragile mind? Are you going to take me to that 'nice shiny place up in the sky?' or are you gonna send me straight to Hell like everybody else thinks you should?"

Even Jake Cavanaugh knew what he was doing was crazy, having told his self-preservation to 'go to Hell.'

He knew his adversary was even crazier.

Even if Albert Wesker put on a cool façade for the world around him, deep down it was safe to say beat the heart of a megalomaniacal sociopath who would sacrifice anything and anybody to get what he wanted.

This was a man whom Jake hunted with an actual purpose rather than just popping him for the sake of a hefty cash reward at the end of the rainbow. Albert Wesker was a man who had heinously violated him both physically and mentally. If he somehow managed to survive and ended up in a padded cell when this was all over with, it would be that treacherous leech's fault. If he ended up becoming so overcome by the throes of insanity to the point he was putting the gun in his mouth to end it all, it would damn sure be all Albert Wesker's fault and no one else's.

It wasn't just him who would have suffered.

He could only think of the S.T.A.R.S. members led to their death, betrayed by their 'trusted leader' back at the Spencer Estate. Not only them, there were those forced against their will to contribute to the madness, like Sebastian Ramsey and Harriet Blanton. He didn't know what kind of connection they had to Wesker if any, but they had likely fallen by something related to him, if at all. Then of course there were the citizens of Raccoon who had fallen, numbering in the hundreds of thousands.

He wouldn't have been killing Albert Wesker out of his own thirst for vengeance; he would be killing him as a favor to those who had suffered so no one else would have to.

_"Every step I take could very well be one extra life saved," _he thought as the trail wrapped around the mountainside and he could only stare ahead, gazing towards the emptiness.

Not a single star shone in the nighttime sky. Every other time he traveled through the woods at nightfall, or any area for that matter left untouched by the urban sprawl and other environmental scourges of the modern world outside, the sky was always one huge starlit canopy, 'Nature's Christmas Tree' as his grandfather called it.

Now there was nothing.

It left him wondering if even the environment could have been affected by the virus plaguing the land.

_"Everything is just so dead," _he reminded himself, taking in the silence around him. The only sounds to be heard were those of his footsteps dragging through the dirt, the jostling of the equipment hanging from his body and his labored grunts as he led the wounded woman clinging to his shoulder.

For the first time in a while he dared look away from the mountain trail before him, and over to his battered companion.

Sara Quigley had not uttered a single word since they left the campground, nothing to let him know if the pain likely shooting through her leg would be too unbearable for her to manage, or if she was hungry, if she needed to rest, or even in regards to the dead silence, she hadn't even offered a pained yelp when he forcibly jerked her to the side so she would avoid stumbling into that pothole about a mile back that would have broken her ankle. Aside from her hushed breathing she was as still as the world around them.

Either she was remaining silent to avoid drawing the attention of any possible remaining commandos, or perhaps she had become too traumatized to speak after finding that 'Dennis' guy's fresh corpse.

Whatever that thing from the campground was, it had at one point been an ordinary human and somehow harbored a connection to Sara. The exact nature of that connection was cause for speculation and once there was free time he would probably ask, but for now Jake was in no mood for socializing.

From this point there was only his mission.

XXXXXXXXXX

_"We are en route to your location as we speak," _the pilot's voice crackled over the radio, _"Estimated arrival time is approximately fifteen minutes."_

"You don't have fifteen minutes you insolent buffoon!" Wesker growled into the transceiver, "By now the authorities will be getting suspicious. You have to get here as soon as you can. Now double time it!"

_"Understood sir, over and out," _the pilot replied before ending the transmission.

Albert Wesker threw the transceiver down and made his way out of the ranger's station, a miracle the radio hadn't been damaged considering the rest of the small log building's ransacked state.

The H.C.F. supervisor stepped out to what had been designated as 'Pillar 3,' more appropriately what was left of it.

The campsite erected lay in tatters along with the commandos stationed there.

He watched as a small squadron men picked through the remnants, two of them sifting through a supply tent whose surface had been ripped apart by gunfire, attempting to salvage whatever guns and ammo they could from the heavily dented crates stored inside, while a weapons specialist inspected the damage done to a .50 caliber machine gun mounted outside.

Nearby a technician found a laptop untouched by the carnage and was attempting to hack into its system while a radioman worked diligently next to him to repair another radio kit heavily damaged by someone falling onto it during the struggle, using some recycled parts kept in a toolkit he carried around.

To his left was a Humvee covered in the blood of more than one victim and two more commandos were in the process of lifting its murdered gunner out of the turret, numerous holes poked through the dead man's head and chest.

It was the first of twenty bodies scattered around the campsite, one of whom still lay on the ground in front of Wesker, the man's mask obscuring the look of agony likely plastered on his face underneath. The other members of the unit were charged with inspecting each corpse for guns, ammo, first-aid supplies and anything else that could be of use to their living colleagues.

Wesker ignored the activity around him and instead made his way up a dirt trail winding along the mountainside until he reached its peak, where a few benches had been set up along with a wire mesh receptacle and a steel guard rail positioned to prevent sightseers from tumbling over the ledge. A plaque had been drilled into a steeple-like rock formation to inform all visitors they had arrived at 'Lookout Point,' the tallest point in all of the Lysande Mountains, along with a brief history of the early settlers in the area.

He made his way over to the railing and peered into the lush green acreage below, an endless abundance interrupted only by a few crisscrossing streams.

It was a beautiful sight that would have normally had a calming effect over the secretive supervisor, but now it did nothing to soothe the fire burning within him. He was the most enraged he had been in a long time and found himself struggling to maintain the cool façade his men expected of him.

He was never one for showing emotion in front of those serving beneath him, knowing it would make him seem mortal. With a sense of humanity would come cracks in the base of order he fought to establish, an order which kept his men ice cold killers and kept their number one priority to be completion of their mission above all else, eschewing the weaknesses which would prevent their success. Forsaking the reticence which kept them from gunning down any worthless civilian stupid enough to stand in their way or the drive to rescue a dying colleague who only in the end would slow them down, he had always been one to lead by example and it was this mindset which had made the H.C.F. more manageable compared to the S.T.A.R.S.

Now here he was pacing back and forth with his fist clenched so tightly his bones threatened to pop out through the flesh, trapped in deep thought.

He hated to admit it, but he was no longer the cool, collected, untouchable superhuman force he once thought himself to be. For the first time in a long while he was feeling a sense of imbalance that left him wanting to put his fist through the nearest rock, a far too human sensation he hoped he would be freed from following his 'rebirth.'

The pointed stump where his left hand should have been was a testament to the lingering traces of humanity he held onto.

Thanks to his augmented regenerative capabilities there was no fear of him bleeding to death. Within a few hours the limb would gradually redevelop, but it would take up to eighteen hours for a new hand to fully form. He didn't have eighteen hours to spare.

_"It wasn't supposed to be like this," _Wesker grunted, angry with himself for having underestimated someone he assumed would have been easy to control.

Granted the man was pretty damn tough to have survived Raccoon City and furthermore if he actually managed to take down the mutated William Birkin, but yet he didn't expect him to display the audacity to openly defy him in the manner which he did.

Indeed Jake Cavanaugh was something special and it wasn't just the DNA which flowed through his system.

No, he possessed a combination of killer instinct which allowed him to survive the horrors of Raccoon, and a fortitude which enabled him to track his prey all the way out into the dead of night even when he knew he would have been outgunned a hundred to one by a group of professionally trained commandos. Such odds did nothing to deter him, even if he had only a sharpened stick as a means of defense, if it meant reaching his objective he would let nothing stop him, the kind of qualities Albert Wesker looked for in his men.

Strangely, he also possessed a kind of moral compass that likely led to his defiance, even as a ten million dollar reward was placed before him, unlike anything the former S.T.A.R.S. captain had ever seen before.

_"He wasn't some money grubbing punk like I thought he would be," _the supervisor thought stopping himself and again staring towards the mountains in the distance, _"There was much I could have done for him other than monetary rewards. That fool would have nothing without me. I could have saved him from the cops looking to bust the notorious criminal, given him the kind of protection Old Man O'Bannon could never have thought of," _he said to himself as he wondered why he had even bothered trying to take the criminal alive.

Jake Cavanaugh was a rarity, a man whose DNA would have provided the template for a Tyrant. He could have transformed him into the first in an army of super soldiers that would have been his tool for world domination and with it, a utopian order with him ruling the world as its new god. Yes, he was only the first.

There were others out there like him, their names on a list compiled through extensive research. They were scattered all over, some in plain sight and others hidden away in the most remote corners of the globe. It would take time, but when they were all under his thumb they would be his to mold and his to carry out his will.

Jake Cavanaugh would no longer be a part of that vision. He had crossed the line and infuriated the supervisor beyond all means and would pay dearly for his indiscretion.

_"That bastard's worth ended in Raccoon," _Wesker thought bitterly and then his mind went back to the very reason he had ordered Cavanaugh to venture into the necropolis.

William Birkin, a man he had known for well over twenty years, both of them becoming acquainted as apprentices under Dr. James Marcus. He was the closest thing he ever had to a best friend, one of few people whose intellect came close to rivaling his own.

A brilliant man he was, but he was also stubborn and impatient, not to mention paranoid.

Ever the enterprising fellow he had been laboring away for years on a new project, one which had roots going all the way back to their work on Lisa Trevor, one which would soon gain approval from Umbrella's president Oswell E. Spencer.

Wesker however did not approve, citing random and uncontrolled mutations could be unsuitable for a B.O.W., having voiced his concerns over numerous late night conversations with his old friend.

True to the stubbornness inherited from his father, William continued forth with the research, the 'G-Virus' as it became known, his life's work.

A proud and arrogant man, Dr. Birkin was never one to keep his mouth shut about his progress with the virus either and finding his curiosity drawn, the supervisor wanted to see things for himself.

Having a mole planted in the underground research facility, Wesker ordered the man to smuggle him a virus sample and it was then he was able to analyze what all the hubbub was about and found himself astonished at the possible breakthroughs that could be accomplished.

Again, he had to remind himself William wouldn't be one to share the glory and he ordered the same mole to plant the seeds of distrust within the facility's hierarchy and it wasn't long before Birkin was becoming paranoid, believing the company would be sending spies after him.

It would all come together unwittingly in the end as his old friend's paranoia had him prevailing upon the now S.T.A.R.S. captain for protection, wanting him to look after Sherry while he and Annette were away.

It was during a visit to the Birkin house the young girl had snapped the chain for the precious locket she always wore around her neck, passed down to her by Annette. He offered to fix it for her, taking it to the garage when he would discover a virus sample hidden in plain sight all along. Swapping the bullet-sized finished sample with a 'dummy cartridge' containing a similarly colored liquid, he was able to get it back to his private facility and at this moment had his group of researchers working out any possible loose ends.

If William ever learned the truth it would have been detrimental to his plans and with his increasing paranoia he was already becoming a liability. He needed to be dealt with.

Wesker couldn't carry out the assassination himself for risk of blowing his cover following his supposed 'demise' back at the Spencer Estate and the mole, a low-level researcher named Gavin Frost, couldn't carry out the hit due to his lack of proper training and also thanks to increased security measures personally ordered by William. There was Ada Wong, but she had stuck over in Vienna and wouldn't have had the time to properly prepare herself given the care that would have been needed, not to forget her flight had been twice delayed and her assigned contact had gone missing shortly before the outbreak.

He would need an outside man to do the job and this is where Jake Cavanaugh came into play, referred to him by Liam Fitzpatrick, a man who had fought alongside him on a few previous missions and could attest to the man's abilities. Granted the man was drunk while boasting how his former associate 'could shoot a dime out from between your fingers like one of those western gunslingers,' yet Wesker found himself intrigued and continued to listen, pumping him so full of alcohol he likely wouldn't have remembered his own name the next morning.

Unfortunately for Cavanaugh, the mission would prove more difficult than anticipated thanks to Spencer ordering that goon squad after Birkin, an action that hadn't been entirely unexpected, yet carried out with more haste than expected compliments of the aging patriarch. Despite all the hurdles placed before him, the hitman ultimately prevailed and William Birkin was no more.

The thought of his deceased colleague had him looking back down to stump where his left hand should have been. He could feel a bubbling sensation beneath the already healed over flesh, the replacement hand beginning to take shape. It had been a miracle drug concocted by Birkin which he owed his survival to following the mansion debacle and furthermore, the regenerative capabilities he was experiencing right now.

_"It didn't have to be like this. If you wouldn't have been so difficult William neither you nor your family would have had to go through with this," _Wesker told himself looking towards the empty nighttime sky, no stars anywhere to be found. _"You were someone I could have had use for in my new world, but you ruined that yourself," _he thought, now able to hear the flutter of the evac chopper's blades thanks to his advanced hearing.

All he could do now was salvage what was left of this operation and get back to the home base where he would plan for his next mission, listening as one of his men approached him from behind.

XXXXXXXXXX

They were getting warmer; he could tell judging by the abundance of footprints in the dirt, their treads the markings of professional military grade boots. It was only a matter of time before he was smack dab in the middle of the fire.

_"No turning back," _Jake Cavanaugh told himself continuing his trek up the mountain, his labored breaths cutting through the dead silence around him, his own fatigue combined with the extra workout he was getting lugging Sara Quigley on his shoulder.

He stole a quick look over to the Eagle Point medic, who fortunately still appeared healthy enough, her eyes transfixed on a particularly dark spot where some branches rustled in the slight breeze followed by a stridency of crackles as dead leaves were ripped from their perches and sent falling to the ground. What she had seen in Springvale likely wasn't too different from his own experiences in Raccoon and was safe to assume she was expecting a zombie to come stumbling out towards them.

It would be a lie to say she wasn't slowing him down in his pursuit. In her sorry state she wouldn't have been of much use for combat, even with her medical training. Any supplies she did carry were likely spent towards fixing her own wounds at this point, something the hitman would probably have done if he were in her shoes, thus taking away resources he could have used in preparation for the bloodshed to come.

For all he knew, Wesker probably had a chopper en route to airlift his sorry ass out of there and with the pace Quigley had dragged him down to, it wouldn't be too unrealistic for him and his surviving thugs to have everything packed up and have hightailed on out of there by the time they reached this 'Lookout Point' she had suggested they follow.

Still, he needed to be reminded it was morally the right thing to do.

That woman would have died back at the campground if it weren't for him and if it wouldn't have been one of those commandos to carry out the deed, either she would have died for starvation, succumbed to her injuries due to a lack of adequate medical treatment, or likely stuck between the jaws of a bear or wolf.

_"Guess that oughta' leave you feeling a little better about yourself, shouldn't it?" _he asked himself, _"You riding off into the sunset with a cop of all people, bet you didn't see that coming from a mile away?"_

"Oh god…Jake please, we need to slow down," Sara pleaded, speaking her first words during the climb and catching him by surprise.

"Your leg flaring up again?" the hitman asked bringing their hike to a halt, _"C'mon, let's not take too long with this. I've got a backstabbing jackass to enforce some 'rough justice' upon."_

"Yeah, I need to apply more first-aid spray," she replied, "Please, find some place to sit me down."

The hitman felt a frustrated growl coming on, yet did not want to display it in front of a suffering woman and risk sending her on a suicidal guilt trip that would leave her screaming 'Forget about me! Run away! Save yourself!' Clenching his jaw in time, the snarl came out as a barely audible sigh and he relented, "Alright."

He led her over to a large rock situated off the trail behind some thick brush that he hoped would keep them hidden from any passing troopers and gently sat her down.

"I'll try to make it as quick as possible," the S.T.A.R.S. member said rifling through what remained of her medical kit.

"Just focus on treating your wounds," Jake replied kneeling behind a nearby tree and keeping his sights trained on the trail.

He did what he could to avoid looking at her, finding his impatience getting the better of him. Given as far as they came, it was safe to assume he would encounter another one of those spooks with every next step taken and for all he knew they were prowling nearby, left as sitting ducks with every stop they made. The realization again sent shudders down his spine and he darted his head to various points, the bare treetops above to the rocky ledge beyond them, then from the nearby hill to the cluster of jagged rocks and lastly to Sara, who was in the middle of pulling a bandage back to spray down the affected area.

"Thank you," the woman spoke, sensing the hitman's eyes upon her and looking up to face him.

"Huh?" he blurted out, his cold features turning quizzical.

"I wanted to say thank you for what you've done for me…in case I don't get the chance to later on," Sara added, her gaze darkening.

He could tell what she was thinking, that they wouldn't make it out alive.

There was no question her physical pain combined with the loss of her teammates and the numbers game playing against them had taken a toll on the woman's psyche, leaving her feeling backed into a corner with no way out. It left Jake wondering why he wasn't in the same boat as her.

Everything he had seen over the past week he was left again to wonder why he was still sane. Everybody else around him had gone to shit, yet he somehow stayed with his head on straight, about as 'normal' as he could be considered.

Jake nodded in reply and opened his mouth to speak, only to be silenced as his ears picked up a flutter from the distance – helicopter blades!

And then a second later the wood exploded next to him.

Jake threw himself to the grass, swiping for the M4A1 as it jumped from his hands, looking back towards the fresh bullet hole.

"Motherfucker," he whispered while staring at the black tendrils rising from the fresh crater and his eyes widened as it hit him. _"If I wouldn't have looked away at the last second like that, that bullet would've blown my head apart."_

He then remembered Sara and turned to find the medic still alive, cowering with her arms thrown over her head and a red dot tracing along her leg.

Scooping up the carbine Jake pushed himself back to his feet and fired wildly in the direction from which the bullet came. There was no time to switch on his thermal goggles and with all the surrounding foliage it was doubtful he would strike the sniper, but for now his main objective was to buy Sara some free time so she could crawl to safety.

No doubt he would be attracting more commandos like moths to a flame, but he was looking to release some pent up frustration before making his way to Wesker.

He fired away at the unseen sniper until his clip ran dry and he took cover behind another tree, kneeling down to eject the spent clip and go for a new one. With the brief reprieve he was able to pull down his thermal goggles and could see the sniper from a distance, as well as three additional troopers rushing towards the scene.

_"Come to me you bastards, I'm tired of sitting around," _he thought while watching Sara take cover in a hollowed out tree, knowing she would be out of sight and hopefully safe from the carnage to come.

Jake knelt low with his finger on the trigger ready to dish out the next helping of death and destruction. Judging by the oncoming troopers' terse movements he could sense they were reluctant in their pursuit and granted they should have been, he was going to be their reaper of life.

He was through with messing around and as soon as the first man's feet touched the grass he was squeezing the trigger, sending a trio of armor-piercing bullets into the man's chest.

"He's here! Get him!" the second commando shouted to his colleague, raising his rifle and letting loose an automatic volley of screaming death, his bullets tearing away at the foliage and sending bits of wood and grass falling onto the hired gun as he collapsed back to his belly and crawled through the undergrowth as another lone thunderous round echoed through the forest, telling him the sniper had not given up his pursuit.

There was not a moment of silence as the two remaining gunmen continued their assault against the hitman, their rifles chattering at a manic pace, only stopping as they went to reload. It was a surefire sign they were getting desperate to kill the man and that they knew any attempts at a silent slaughter had pretty much gone out the window. Again he would be forced to be on the lookout for any more commandos who would likely be drawn in by the sounds of battle.

Jake continued his crawl until he ran out of foliage to hide him and pushed himself back to his feet, keeping his head low to avoid the sniper who still likely kept him in his sights, darting back and forth behind trees and rocks, wanting to force the bastard to work for his kill as he made his way closer to the faceless would-be killer, feeling the heat at his back as another gunshot rang out and missing him by mere inches.

He turned to find one of the gunmen, nearly indistinguishable to the naked eye in the dark of night with its bright red goggles being its only giveaway, closing in on him and reaching for a canister clipped to his harness. Whatever it was, it would have spelled trouble for the hired gun and he raised his carbine to fire, a violent shrug telling him the man had been hit, but not knowing if he was dead.

Another booming round called out, the hired gun flinching as it grew ten times louder. He knew he was getting closer to the concealed sniper, needing to get to him before worrying about Wesker. The last man was gaining ground, the crunching of dead leaves and twigs giving away his footsteps as he closed in from behind. Jake could only dart back and forth to avoid the man's gunfire, knowing there was no time for him to look over his shoulder.

A fifth shot rang out and a long abandoned beehive exploded next to the hitman's head before he finally raised his carbine to return fire. The bullets missed their target, but finally forced the ghillie suit-wearing gunman to move from his perch and furthermore, forced the man to drop his long ranged weapon and left him scrambling for a sidearm.

_"No chance in hell," _he told himself, stepping onto a hollowed out uprooted tree and propelling himself into the air, bringing the carbine's stock up and slamming it into the man's face. With the sniper taken down Jake was able to turn around and let loose on the last gunman, four rounds finding their place in the man's chest, and then finishing off the unconscious sniper with a sword driven into the man's throat.

With the four commandos out of the picture Jake returned his attention to the sniper rifle the gunman had attempted to rid himself of, a Barrett M82A1, a badass fucking gun.

"Let go of me you bastard!" he heard Sara's voice suddenly calling out.

Lifting his thermal goggles he peered through the rifle's night vision scope and saw the second gunman, having survived his attack and was now using his good arm in an effort to pull Sara out of her hiding place in the hollowed out log.

"Time to test you out," he whispered taking a knee and using a nearby tree stump to steady his aim, taking a deep breath and with his exhale squeezed the trigger, the rifle barking in his hands as he sent a round sailing through the man's head and left him hitting the ground not far from the tree where he attempted to end his life.

With the threats accounted for Jake made his way over to the waiting S.T.A.R.S. medic and clamped a hand over her mouth when she attempted to scream.

"Relax, it's me," he hissed and released his grip, allowing her to suck in a deep breath, "Those spooks are done for, but we've gotta get you someplace safe."

The young woman nodded to him uneasily and allowed him to help her back to her feet and he would take the time to relieve the corpses of their ammo before leading her down along another trail and towards a cave he hoped would be out of sight.

"Better make yourself at home. I could be a while," Jake said leading her inside and gently setting her down on the ground towards the back.

"It's not exactly five star, but it'll do for now," she replied while carefully stretching her wounded leg out.

"How are you doing on ammo?" the hitman asked looking down to Sara's M4A1, unable to make out any other weapons on her being.

The medic ejected the carbine's clip and inspected it to find only six bullets left, "Not good.

Jake grabbed one of the weapons collected from a dead commando, a British-made L85A2 assault rifle, and handed it to her along with all of its ammo and the Barrett sniper rifle. Knowing she would need a sidearm he also gave her another H&K MK23 he had acquired along with some ammo. "There, that should hold you over for a while."

"Thank you," she replied before looking up to him and staring hard, her green eyes unblinking and unwavering, "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Positive," Jake replied looking towards the entrance, still able to hear the approaching helicopter from a distance. "That bastard made my life a living hell and now I'm going to repay him by sending him there."

It was with those words Sara finally broke her gaze and stared towards the entrance, "Alright, but please, just come back alive."

"I will and I'll be back for you. I promise," he said making his way towards the entrance.

"Good luck," Sara called out as he disappeared from sight.

"Time to settle some unfinished business," Jake muttered as he made his way down the dirt path and cautiously back towards main path, where the flutter of the chopper's blades had grown louder and by now he could make out the faint shape cutting through the nighttime clouds, the glint of moonlight making it visible for a second before it vanished like a ghost in the darkness.

_"This bastard's not escaping me that easily," _the hitman told himself stepping back into the foliage and continuing along the trail from his shrouded sanctuary. _"This asshole's been living on borrowed time since the moment he decided to screw me over and now it's time for the final showdown. Only one of us will walk away tonight."_

The flutter of blades grew louder as the helicopter drew near, whipping away at the mostly bare branches above and raining more dead leaves upon him and at times obscuring his vision. At least the noise helped to disguise his movements through the shrubbery and it wasn't long before he was happening across another one of those masked gunmen, whose eyes were transfixed upon the approaching aircraft.

Clutching the pommel of his katana, the hitman crept towards the masked man and with a deft swipe of his already bloodstained blade, lopped the man's head off.

There was no time to celebrate his quick kill as Jake spotted the glowing red emerging from a nearby thicket and tried to take cover behind another tree, but it was too late and his wooden barrier was pelted by a barrage of high-powered rounds, forcing him to kneel as he returned fire and dropped the man before one of his colleagues showed up, only to receive the same fate.

By now the helicopter's rotors were deafening as it passed overhead, a UH-60 Black Hawk outfitted with M-134 mini-guns and rocket launchers. Jake felt the knot forming in his throat at the sight of the flying gunship, but reminded himself of whom he was after.

"No turning back," he repeated to himself entering the trail from which the two masked men came from, which in turn led to a wooden bridge guarded by two more commandos, both of whom opened fire upon spotting their black-clad adversary.

"He's here!" one of the men called out as Jake slid behind another large rock for cover, a three shot burst barely blowing off his right foot before he was at a safe angle.

The chatter of automatic fire grew in volume as more shooters joined in, followed by a thunderous boom dwarfing all the light pops to tell him another sniper had joined the fray. Once again the hitman was pinned down and the gunfire was coming at him too fast to create an opening which he could return fire.

_"And I doubt there are any more mutated freaks to come to my rescue," _Jake thought clenching his eyes shut to keep the dust from drifting into them and wincing as the tiny jagged pebbles pelted him.

"Give up Cavanaugh, you're a dead man!" a trooper shouted feeling the rush of bravado.

_"C'mon Jake, think damn you! Think!" _the voice inside commanded, _"You're not going to take this lying down. You've already given these bastards more than an inch and they're not going to show you any mercy if you let them get their hands on you. Christ, Wesker would be laughing his ass off if he could see you now."_

"Wesker," he whispered, the name alone made his rage simmer and he again struggled to calm himself, not wanting to carry out some rash maneuver that could backfire. The torrent of hot lead kept him pinned behind the rock, but the dust clogging his airways and sharpened pebbles pelting into his skin told him he wouldn't be safe there forever.

"You're only delaying the inevitable. Face it Cavanaugh, there's no way out," another commando shouted before firing another burst.

"You're awful tough when it's ten of you jack offs against one!" Jake shouted back, knowing his math was probably off judging by the volume of bullets fired in his direction, but in no position to calculate equations.

Things were getting desperate and he was going to have to do something and fast, but the only thing he could think of was to put it bluntly, suicidal.

_"You have no other choice Jake," _he told himself checking over his carbine to make sure it was fully loaded. _"If you're going to die, you're damned sure not going to do it backed into a corner sucking on your thumb like a bitch."_

Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed himself to a knee with a cluster of bullets just inches away from striking his head, forcing him to clinch his eyes shut to avoid a pebble that would have blinded him. "Go time," he whispered to himself and with a mighty roar he rose to his feet and depressed the trigger.

The 5.56 x 45mm rounds came screaming out of the carbine's barrel as Jake waved the gun back and forth, looking to hit anything as he embarked on a desperate attempt to push himself out of the corner he was painted into, a literal suicide run as the armor-piercing bullets flew around him. How he was still on his feet was a mystery and if he had been hit, he doubted he would have felt with the rage pumping through his veins, making him feel damn near superhuman.

All he cared about was being able to fight back against his aggressors and his efforts would pay off as his rounds tore through the chest of a commando who had initially been guarding the wooden footbridge, sending the man falling forward into the stream below, his death doing nothing to deter his comrades.

It had been his only kill scored, but at least Jake had managed to free himself from the paltry cover provided by the now pock-marked rock to a solid earthen wall from which he could make out the flashes of the sniper's rifle. Raising his carbine he aimed towards the source of the shots, but came up short as the man was too far away.

_"Guess I'll just have to make due with leftovers," _Jake told himself as some of his rounds found their way to a man situated on a ledge beneath sniper, sending him plummeting onto a jagged rock which snapped his spinal cord and left him rolling onto the slope below at an awkward angle.

There were no taunts or threats of violence from the gunmen, now focused solely on ending the hitman's life and expending what must have been left of their ammo in the effort to do so, as evidenced by a commando perched on an incline who slung his rifle over his shoulder and then attempted to flee, only to fall compliments of a well-placed round to his spinal column from the M4A1.

Jake couldn't tell how many gunmen remained, but fortunately there seemed to be fewer than estimated. Taking down the sniper would have been top priority and was left mentally kicking himself for leaving that rifle with Sara back in the cave.

_"Then again you couldn't have expected another one of those sniper bastards to be around," _he thought, gaining a modicum of progress as he dropped a fourth man with a burst that left him feebly reaching for his now opened throat and shot down a fifth man, agonized screams letting him know the man was still alive, but hopefully in no position to threaten him.

"You're fucking dead Cavanaugh! Dead!" another trooper called out, having attached an M203 grenade launcher to his M4 and launching an explosive round.

Jake could hear the loud _'bloop'_ followed by the whistle of the airborne projectile soaring in his direction, which again left him scrambling for cover elsewhere.

He could still hear the flutter of helicopter blades in the background and knew he had to get over to the other side of the peak pronto before Wesker could make his escape.

The bridge wasn't too far and he would need to make another high speed dash if he wanted to close in on his objective, knowing he couldn't let even a sniper or a maniac with a grenade launcher slow him down.

Another whistle sounded in the nighttime air and Jake knelt down before launching himself outward like he were running a relay, pumping his aching arms and legs as quickly as possible until he heard the hollow thumps of his boot-covered feet striking the bridge's wooden surface, followed by a boom as the bridge behind him was obliterated by a second explosive.

He could only keep charging forth towards the trail out of there, the chatter of his carbine joining the cacophony of loud noises around him, barely registering the warm liquid splashing onto his face as he dropped another masked man who had attempted to ambush him from behind an ancient rock formation and then cutting down yet another red-eyed spook with a flesh-tearing round to his exposed shin before ending his suffering with a cluster of rounds to his neck, shoulders and head.

Ejecting the spent clip, Jake made his way through the pass and was about to round the trail towards the summit when the grenade launcher goon appeared to fire another explosive shell in his direction, again forcing the hitman to roll backwards seeking shelter.

He winced as the grenade exploded behind him and could hear only the ringing of his ears, violently shaking it away as he raised his carbine only to find the soldier had disappeared and that the gunfire around him had suddenly died down, his hearing returning just in time for him to hear a new voice calling out over a loudspeaker.

_"I'm going to toss you a rope ladder. Hurry up and get on!" _the Black Hawk's pilot called out.

"No…no you fucking don't!" Jake grunted and began pushing his way up along the winding trail to the summit. There was no way in hell he was going to let that bastard slip through his fingers, not after coming this far.

He continued forth until he reached the summit that became Lookout Point, where the attack chopper hovered overhead as Wesker and his remaining men congregated below ready to make the climb, the supervisor being the first to go.

Unfortunately for Jake, the same thug wielding the grenade launcher had spotted him and raised his weapon to fire another round. The hitman had been quicker though and took the man down, in addition to the sniper who had menaced him earlier, his advance halted as the chopper's searchlight enveloped him, forcing him to shield his eyes.

"Kill him now!" he could make out the supervisor saying over the roar of the helicopter blades, followed by the mini-guns humming with life.

With a muttered curse Jake ran sloppily trying to avoid tripping over the corpses left from the previous assault, ducking and weaving behind whatever cover he could find to avoid bullets fired upon him by the remaining ground-based troops. High velocity rounds ripped through what temporary cover he could find and ate away at the ground behind him as he ran, showering him with grass, soil and other natural debris, eventually striking a few weapon crates left lying around and knocking one into his path, causing him to stumble before hastily heaving himself over a toppled tree and then tumbling down the hill beyond it.

Jake cursed repeatedly as he rolled down the hill and bellowed loudly as he nearly dislocated his shoulder on a rock jutting out of the ground before he hit a level surface, forced to roll off to the side as a few of those heavy weapons crates came tumbling down the incline behind him.

The roar of the helicopter's engine continued after him and it wasn't long before the gunship again circled the area overhead with its mini-guns firing nonstop, intent upon turning him into Swiss cheese. Branches rained down upon him as the rounds ripped effortlessly through them and a few weakened trees were chopped from their bases.

_"It is over for you Mr. Cavanaugh. This hunt of yours has been for naught," _Albert Wesker called out over the chopper's loudspeaker.

The supervisor's words stung at the battered hitman as he hastily clawed his way away out of sight to avoid the high-powered rounds whizzing towards him, followed by those of the remaining foot soldiers firing down from above.

"I'm not giving up," he whispered to himself as a patch of earth exploded next to him, sending a glob of fresh mud flying into his face and nearly blinding him, yet he continued to inch forth until his hands brushed against something heavy and he looked up to find one of those weapons cases had fallen nearby and was opened after its latches were damaged.

Score!

Inside the case was a genuine surface-to-air M136 AT4 rocket launcher that still appeared to be in good working order, calling out to him with its imaginary voice. A window of opportunity had opened before him and he was determined to make the most of it, no matter the case.

Shooting his hands outwards he scooped up the heavy weapon and nearly fell face first as he struggled with the weapon's weight while placing it on this throbbing shoulder, then throwing himself behind another rock wall to catch a breather before another round could find its way into his head.

_"You can't run and you can't hide," _Wesker called back.

"Who said I wanted to run?" Jake grumbled while still attempting to steady the rocket launcher.

_"This is it," _he told himself looking down to the piece of artillery he carried. He had one shot and he needed to make it count.

Grunting through the pain he finally hoisted the heavy weapon onto his shoulder and stepped out to take a shaky aim at the circling chopper. The laser aiming module attempted to locate its target, hampered only by the criminal's excruciating pain, but within seconds it was locked on the bird and good to go.

"_The moment you've been waiting for," _Jake thought as his itching finger wrapped around the trigger, just as the zoom feature made out the form of a commando with a sniper rifle taking aim at him, its red laser cutting a swath through the blackness and coming dangerously close to blinding him.

"See you in Hell, Wesker!"

With a squeeze of the trigger, the missile shot out from its chamber and soared towards the copter with a deafening hiss.

From the cramped confines of the Black Hawk's cockpit Albert Wesker watched in disbelief as the missile sped towards him, time slowing down allowing his life to flash before his eyes. Gone was the sense of invincibility, replaced by the very human sensation of his heart tightening.

"Son of a-"

The rocket collided head-on with the Black Hawk's cockpit as its nose turned away, the following explosion lighting up the nocturnal sky. From front to back the copter was swallowed whole in one huge reddish-orange gust and metal fragments were stripped away flying in every direction possible, some of Wesker's remaining henchmen finding themselves on their sharpened ends. A smoldering shell spun violently down to earth and collided with the area making up Lookout Point, resulting in a second detonation creating an even larger explosion followed by the sounds of churning metal and crunching glass.

A concussive blast knocked Jake from his feet and showered him in more jagged fragments cutting away at his exposed skin. The blast had been deafening and for a few moments he could only feel the vibration of his own heart beating before he started to hear the crackle of flames and the crunching of glass.

Opening his eyes he quickly shut them again as he was met by a blinding orange light that nearly left them bursting under pressure. Sweat and blood poured down his exposed flesh and he could feel both substances streaming into his closed eyes, raising his gloved hands to rub them away. Taking more deep breaths he opened his eyes underneath his cupped hands and gradually lowered them to take in his surroundings.

Everything around him was ablaze; dead trees and shrubs ignited by flaming scrap metal that had fallen from the sky.

He pushed himself back to his feet and quickly knelt down to scoop up his M4A1, hastily waving his free hand around to get the smoke out of his face and then it hit him – there were still other troopers left unaccounted for following the crash.

Jake whirled around at the realization, pointing his rifle in all directions, but found nothing. Then again, he remembered the pitch black armor the men wore and the realization left him taking cover behind a tree untouched by the flames, wondering if any of them were making their way down to the lower level. They all wore those soft-soled boots that make their footsteps harder to hear and given the loud fiery crackles he knew they would have the perfect camouflage. The smoke in the air hampered his sense of security as well and he again waved a hand to keep it out of his face, coughing violently as small tendrils wafted into his nostrils.

"_Quit fucking around Jake. You need to find out if this guy is really dead or not," _the hitman told himself.

What was he saying? He went up in flames with that helicopter; the man _had_ to be dead.

Yet there was still uncertainty lingering within his mind.

Albert Wesker had before survived taking a bullet between the eyes and having his left hand blown off without bleeding to death, there had to be no possible way he could have survived such a blast.

"Could he?" Jake asked himself before shaking his head violently, trying to ebb such a thought from his mind. _"He has to be dead. I saw what Birkin became and it took a self-destruct sequence to finally put him down for good. Lots of fire, plus a big boom and a whole ton of shit falling down on top of you. This _has_ to have done the trick."_

No, he needed to see the wreckage for himself with his own two eyes.

He stepped out from behind the tree and made his way up along the hill he had tumbled down just minutes before, back towards the campsite set up at the summit, driven by the need to know.

After a considerable climb the hitman found himself back on Lookout Point, now littered with more fresh corpses impaled by flaming debris, including one commando weakly clinging to life who reached out upon spotting him, only to fall face down into the blackened earth a second later and never rise again.

That was of no concern to Jake, instead his eyes focused on the pillar of smoke wafting into the nighttime sky from beyond the cliff side.

Pushing his way through the carpet of carnage he made his way over to the ledge and looked down into the greenery below.

What had once been a Black Hawk attack helicopter now lay beneath him a smoldering pile of twisted metal, nearly buried by the heap of rubble that had fallen on top of it. All the trees surrounding it were burning like giant candles and a few dead bushes were following suit, compliments of the embers still wafting through the air. A potential forest fire was the least of his worries at this point.

"_All my other enemies before him were ordinary humans who you could shoot in the head and they would stay dead…forever."_

Again he stopped himself, reminded he had to stop thinking so negatively.

A demon had been exorcised from existence. He had finally won. As far as he was concerned, Albert Wesker was now burning in the fires of Hell where he belonged.

The sight then turned from apprehension to one of morbid comfort as he stared deeply into the wreck that trapped his antagonist.

"_Nice knowing you, Wesker," _Jake thought coldly turning on his heel and looking down to a small plastic bag which held a tattered strip of soiled black cloth. Dumbfounded by its presence he knelt down and picked it up between his index and middle fingers before finding _'Cavanaugh Sample 1' _written on a label in sharpie.

"_Wonder what the bastard had in mind?" _he asked himself before tossing it into a nearby trash receptacle with its contents set ablaze, watching as the plastic melted and deformed into nothing and the cloth went up in smoke.

And then came the cocking of a pistol.

Whirling around on his heel the hitman found himself face to face with another one of those alien-like killers, this one's goggles having been crackled, thus extinguishing their artificial glow and giving him a more human appearance.

An H&K MK23 was clutched in the man's trembling left hand and it was then he noticed the metallic shard embedded in his right arm. Numerous tears dotted the black uniform, giving his newest challenger a haggard, less-than-threatening appearance.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Jake asked the nameless man, cocking an eyebrow caked in layers of dried blood.

The commando did not reply, ragged rasps amplified by his damaged breathing apparatus voicing the frustration he felt.

The distance he stood from the man reminded him of an Old Western showdown and he wondered if he should reach for his sidearm and end it all. Yet there he stood just staring at someone who likely didn't have it in him to pull the trigger or else he would have been dead by now.

"How the hell could you?" the commando croaked, "You're just one man…one fucking man! How could you have come this far? You should have been dead a million times over by now."

"Guess I'm just lucky," Jake replied, smirking at the backhanded compliment.

"Who are you?" the man asked, "What are you? You can't be just some random hired hand."

The hired gun stared long and hard at his faceless accuser, "You could say I'm numerous things: Maybe I'm lucky or maybe I'm just really good. I could be some kind of otherworldly being that cannot die or I'm already dead and the pain I feel is just an illusion. Hell, maybe I'm a figment of your imagination, for all I know I could be the monster under your bed!

"As far as I know I'm some random bastard whose name got drawn from a hat and now here I am," he finished motioning towards his fiery surroundings.

"Either way it doesn't matter," the commando replied as his aim steadied, "All I know is you killed a whole bunch of my buddies and now I'm gonna kill you!"

There was no time for the man to squeeze his trigger as Jake's hand shot down for his holster and within a split second he was raising his silenced pistol and firing a round into the man's chest, causing him to stagger back a few steps before finishing him off with a barrage from the carbine in his other hand.

"You were saying?" he mockingly asked the freshly-deceased man.

Now he could focus on his next objective: getting the hell out of this accursed forest and back to civilization.

Jake took one final glance back at the thick wall of black smoke created by the countless spirals coalescing together, a creepy sight which left him turning his head and making his way back down the trail towards his waiting companion.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sara Quigley held herself tightly, trying to make herself as small as possible in the tiny groove which she sat herself.

There had been nothing but large explosions and gunfire coming from outside, exactly as it was in Springvale when she and the guys encountered those 'things' or 'zombies' as the horror film buff Robbie would label them. Dr. Griffin would later label them as or 'carriers' if you wanted to get technical about it, saying they were people exposed to some kind of manmade virus.

The thought of those things still made her quiver, not the fact that they were flesh-eating drones who could turn you into one of them through exposure, but rather their eyes, soulless and glossed over.

She still remembered that very first 'zombie' she had killed and furthermore remembered finding the man's wallet and seeing the family portrait tucked inside.

It was then she realized they had been humans and the knowledge made it no easier to pull the trigger. A pacifist by nature, it always had to be somebody shouting in her ear to squeeze the trigger, be it the Captain, Villalobos, Chapel, or that testosterone junkie Holger, it was never something she did willfully, especially not as someone whose job it was to heal the wounded, not inflict the wounds.

She then thought of the big man Holger and how all the chaos around them seemed to sap his humanity away little by little and the end result of his transformation, culminating in what he had done to Timmins without a flinch.

It had terrified the hell out of her, but at the same time she found it comforting as it reminded her she still had her humanity by contrast. The panic she experienced when going up against those 'things,' the sorrow of watching innocent people die, the anger felt towards those who thought they could play god, yes she was still able to experience the emotions which reminded her she was human, a small miracle unto itself.

There had been others who had somehow managed to cling to their humanity throughout the chaos and it was that thought that had brought her mind back to the mysterious man who saved her from those gunmen back at the campground.

Jake – he never gave his last name, the tall, dark stranger who had shown up in the dead of night to liberate her from their clutches, somehow bypassing an entire army of highly-trained, heavily-armed killers.

In spite of his charitable act, she still wasn't completely at ease around the man.

He was just so cool, hard as stone. She could tell the man had been through hell and back, but he just took everything in stride like it was another day at the office. He hadn't told her much about himself, but judging by his nerves of steel she assumed he had to be a soldier of some kind, someone who had seen action on the frontline and was used to being covered in the blood of other human beings, the remarkably unruffled demeanor of someone comfortable with a gun and blade in hand.

Yet at the same time, he must have possessed some shreds of humanity. He had come that far just to save her when he could have easily gotten the hell out and made his way back to civilization, braving an entire squad of gun-toting madmen in the process. He didn't have to, but he did and it was his personal choice.

Speaking of her mysterious savior, she only now noticed how things had suddenly calmed down outside of the cavern walls, an eerie quiet that left goose bumps forming all over her bare arms.

Was he still alive?

The question brought a wash of hope to her mind, yet it was only a second later when the floodgates were again closed.

_"He must have died," _she said to herself, her head drooping and her eyelids with the sudden realization.

Anybody who had attempted to come to her rescue during this entire ordeal found themselves knocking on Death's Door shortly after.

It had been the case with that nice tow truck driver who attempted to save her from that group of infected people, only to find himself turned into a one man buffet for his troubles. Then there was that big gruff biker, Crowbar his friends called him, who had fought in vain to save her and that Cataldo lady from those weird bug-like things. There was also that security guard from the facility, the only person there who hadn't tried to kill them, sacrificing himself when that weird-looking grizzly bear escaped from its pen. It wasn't just total strangers, but her own who had fallen trying to help her as well.

She remembered her own teammates Robbie Marin and Mike Forrester trying to provide cover for her and the others when those mutated lizards were swarming them from all angles. Mike just had to play the hero and toss the hand grenade into that reactor core, took out all those things, but also himself and Robbie along with it.

And then there was Dean, trying to hold off all those masked gunmen after the helicopter crashed.

_"Oh god Dean…why did you have to go and do that?" _she asked herself, fresh streams of tears flowing from her eyes as she remembered how he shoved her out of the way and ended up taking those rounds to the abdomen for his troubles. _"Why did you have to try playing the hero like that? You could have made it out of there. God in Heaven that should have been me dying back there, not Dean."_

Dean Montrose, he wasn't just her teammate, he was her closest, most beloved friend. Maybe he could have been more. She never got to tell him how she truly felt about him.

_"Why did I have to hold back? I should have told him the second I heard about him breaking up with Corrine. Him and I, if I wouldn't have gotten hurt he could still be alive and we could have been together once we got out of here," _she told herself as the tears led to sobs, the sorrow clamping such a strong vice upon her mind she almost forgot she had indeed uttered the three most powerful words she had longed to for so long, but only after he had given his last breath.

_"Am I cursed?" _she finally asked herself, a question that had lingered in her mind following Dean's passing. _"Am I like that stray black cat that always brings bad luck when I cross someone's path? Anyone who's ever tried saving me always ends up dying."_

Her thoughts then returned to Jake, a man who had carried out a mission of mercy riding to her rescue like a knight in shining armor. Indeed she was safe, but now she worried about him.

He had embarked on a mission of his own, going out in search of that mysterious man wearing the sunglasses, 'Albert Wesker' his name was, the same man who somehow knew her father and had ordered her taken for her blood.

She could only wonder how this man knew her father, but it wasn't something she was too keen to pry into. Her father was a sick bastard and she had not spoken to him in years, taking on her mother's maiden name to avoid any association with that bastard. If this Wesker were associated with her old man in any shape or form, she knew right away he had to be trouble.

The thought of the enigmatic fellow brought her back to Jake and again she was left to wonder if her 'curse' would rub off on the dark-haired man. From what she had seen firsthand, Wesker was no ordinary human being and although Jake seemed to handle himself well, she found herself wondering when his luck would run out.

_"He said Wesker used him," _she told herself, something that had been gnawing away at her since they left the campground.

It left her wondering more about her savior and the nature of the betrayal mentioned.

If he had done business with someone like Albert Wesker the question would be "Why?" Was he a scumbag himself, or was he unaware of the man's true duplicitous nature? Also, she had to ask "How?" How was he betrayed? Whatever it was, he had been left for dead and was fuming mad.

Then the other questions filtered into her mind: Who was he really? Where did he come from? What was the nature of his relationship with Wesker before all this happened? Had he been working for the man? What would he do to her if he came back for her? Did he intend on letting her make it out of this mess alive?

"Well look at what we've got here," a clamorous voice called out.

Sara was snapped out of her thoughts and cried out in surprise as she turned to see three of those masked men hovering over her. She instinctively went to raise the L85A2, only to have it kicked from her hands.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you little lady," the commando chuckled, the blood red glow of his night vision goggles nearly blinding her, "Wouldn't wanna see a nice little lady like you hurting yourself now, would we?" he asked his colleagues.

The trio had somehow managed to sneak in while she was buried in her thoughts, the soft soles of their boots concealing their every movement, barely any sound made as the man went to kick the gun from her grasp.

Now he stood tall over her, lifting his mask to reveal his Cheshire grin underneath, circled by the scar on his left cheek ending beneath his bottom lip, a jagged line of bare skin cutting through a thick coat of stubble clinging to his chin that amplified his 'wild man' persona. His eyes were a vibrant shade of blue, aflame with an insane lust as he took in the young woman. He looked like a starving man eying up a slab of fresh beef and licked his lips in anticipation.

"Been a while since we've happened across a pretty little thing like you," the man snickered, "but don't worry, we promise to be gentle," the man said pulling out a KA-BAR combat knife, "But first, we've gotta get you outta those bothersome clothes."

Sara's eyes widened in horror as the man's colleagues laughed in the background. She hated herself for being so weak, only able to weep as the man tore her combat vest open and then began to cut into her t-shirt, exposing her bra underneath.

"You've actually got yourself a decent size too for being such a young-looking thing," the man laughed forcibly groping her chest.

"C'mon Paul, quit dawdling!" one of the other soldiers called out.

"Hold your horses Eustice, you'll get your turn!" the would-be rapist now called Paul shot back reaching down to rip her bra open.

"No! Please god no!" Sara weakly pleaded as she was being heinously violated, weeping harder and receiving a hard backhand for her troubles. She could only wish for a quick and painless death that wasn't likely to happen, anything that would shut out the madman's lewd, taunting laughter.

And then a second later there was a rattle of gunfire, followed by a splash of warm liquid on the field medic's face, instinctively throwing her hands over her eyes and rolling onto her side tucked into a fetal position.

The thunderous cacophony seemed to go on for hours, when in truth it had all happened within less than five seconds.

Brushing the warm liquid off her face, Sara Quigley shot her eyes open to find the three commandos lying broken on the earthen floor and the man called Jake standing tall over her would-be rapist with his smoking carbine in hand, spitting on the man's bullet-riddled carcass.

Once again the mysterious drifter had ridden to her rescue like a knight in shining armor.

"Are you alright?" he asked, extending his hand downward towards her.

She could only stare long and hard at him, the fear still in her green eyes, her heart racing and her breathing quick and ragged. It took the man clearing his throat to make her snap out of her trance. "Yeah, I'm alright," she said finally taking his hand.

"C'mon, we've gotta get out of here," Jake said gently lifting her back to her feet, "There's no reason for us to stick around any longer."

"That man – Wesker – is he…" Sara asked, silenced by the man's hard stare and the following nod, telling her everything she needed to know.

"Let's just say he won't be bothering us anytime soon," Jake replied kneeling down to collect the spare ammo from the fresh corpses, lastly grabbing a green canteen covered in crusted dirt and blood. Shaking it and finding it was still mostly full, he decided to take it along knowing it would be needed for the long haul ahead.

"C'mon," he said taking Sara's arm and wrapping it around his shoulders, leading her out of the cave.

The medic followed his lead without incident, wanting to get out of that dark cave and as far away from those madmen who had just tried to savagely violate her, her eyes focused solely on the ruggedly handsome stranger who had now saved her three times from those bastards in one night.

She was forever grateful for everything he had done for her, yet her more logical side again tried to warn her of who she could be dealing with, reminded he must have done business with Wesker and wondering if he could be trusted.

"Hey, are you alright?" she heard Jake ask; now turning to look at her.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm fine," she blurted out, returning his gaze and seeing a genuine concern in his dark bluish-gray colored eyes. Without thinking she found herself wrapping her other arm around the man, pulling him close in a tight embrace.

"Thank you for what you did back there and thank you for saving me from the campground. I'm glad I've had the chance to thank you," she replied.

"It was my pleasure;" Jake spoke returning the embrace, "What those bastards were going to do to you was something no woman should ever have to go through. I let that happen once and I'd be damned before I'd let it happen again."

He noticed how the S.T.A.R.S. member looked at him when he uttered that last sentence, referring to that night all those years ago when he watched Clarissa Belding raped by that sick freak and he sat off to the sidelines doing nothing, too paralyzed by his own fear.

"Never mind, let's just keep moving," he said continuing down the trail.

XXXXXXXXXX

Gabriel Karkian watched impassively as the rocket struck the Black Hawk, blowing it out of the sky and sending it crashing into the rocky peak that was Lookout Point before the chopper again fell into the woods below.

_"The son of a bitch actually did it," _he said to himself, knowing only Cavanaugh could have been capable of such a feat, staring intently towards the towering pillar of smoke until he felt the eyes upon him.

Looking over his shoulder he noticed several of his troops had gathered to witness the grim spectacle, only serving to further irritate the already agitated commander.

"You have a job to do, now do it!" he barked and without hesitation the men resumed their routines.

Following his last communique with Wesker the commander and his remaining soldiers had been tasked with the cleanup of Two Creeks Campground, an unenviable job if there ever was one.

No one had survived and he stood watch as one of his men finished zipping up a body bag and then two more would load it onto a gurney and take it to a transport truck waiting nearby. It was a sight all too common in the campground turned slaughterhouse and the fact alone that he was stuck here made his blood boil.

_"I'm a fucking soldier, not a goddamned janitor!" _Karkian repeated to himself for the hundredth time, watching as several of his men loaded the body of a misshapen young man onto a gurney and prepared to load it into a separate truck that had a mobile research team onboard. For some reason Wesker was especially adamant they get this nameless schmuck to their Bear Claw facility, something which his colleague only specifically called out for when they dealt with someone exposed to a virus.

_"Goddamn you Wesker, I should have been out hunting that prick who's been slaughtering my men left and right," _he told himself while unzipping a compartment on his combat vest and pulling out a tattered piece of cloth.

Emblazoned upon the black surface was the elaborate design of a red dragon, which according to Wesker had belonged to a t-shirt worn by the hitman. The dragon's blank eyes and opened mouth formed a mocking grin that only fanned the flames of his hatred.

"Goddamned bastard," he muttered, clenching the fabric in his gloved hand.

It had been a souvenir taken by his supervisor after he snuck into a Raccoon apartment complex where Cavanaugh had been hiding and knocked him out just before he could spot him, wanting to check up on his hired gun's progress and leave him a 'care package.'

_"I always told you that prick wasn't going to be happy when he found out the truth about Birkin, but you wouldn't listen and look what it got you," _he mentally told Wesker, wondering if even he could have survived such a wreck. _"If it were up to me, we would've taken out Cavanaugh right on the spot and gotten the hell out of there."_

Karkian had come into possession of the fabric when it had fallen out of Wesker's pocket after he was done beating on the kid outside of Springvale and ever since he had used it as a reminder and motivation for what had become his personal mission following Cavanaugh's escape.

Now with Wesker gone he was free to carry out his pursuit and approached a man supervising two operatives who were in the middle of removing the remains of Comm. Officer Byron Savitch from a cabin that had most of its wall obliterated on one side.

"Captain Muldoon," the commander called out, startling the man, who would quickly fall into attention with the rigid posture of a man worthy of his rank.

"At ease," Commander Karkian ordered approaching the man, "Captain, I am leaving you in charge."

Beneath his gasmask Cedric Muldoon displayed a look of shock and struggled to comprehend what he was just told.

"Are you serious? Sir, with all do respect-" the captain spoke until he was cut off by his superior.

"Don't question your orders!" Karkian snapped before returning his attention to the pillar of smoke rising above Lookout Point, "I have to tend to some personal business and I need to do it alone," he spoke before taking a deep breath, "I honestly don't know if you'll see me again after this. Just remember that your commander died a proud soldier," the grizzled veteran finished before giving his subordinate a proud military salute.

Captain Muldoon returned the gesture, "It was an honor serving alongside you."

"Likewise Captain," Karkian replied before gathering his gear and making his way along a secluded trail where he was sure none of his men would spot him.

It was to be his final mission ever. After a life of loss and bloodshed he was eager to escape. He had nothing to lose from here on out and nothing would hold him back from his final showdown with the Red Dragon.

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: So Wesker is finally dead now, or is he? That plus Commander Karkian finally decides enough is enough and that it's now finally time to track down the Red Dragon! What an eventful chapter this has been indeed!

I honestly don't know if the part where Wesker reflects upon his decision to send Jake after his former colleague William Birkin was explained exactly to the best of my abilities and I'm hoping that it doesn't come off as too confusing to some.

I realize that in the original I never gave any explanation behind Wesker's decision to target a man he's known for years, especially the one who synthesized the very virus which gives him his powers and saved his life after he was supposedly killed by the original Tyrant, so here I try to fill in that gap and it was a pretty big task for me seeing as how I wanted it to seem like it made sense. In my personal opinion Albert Wesker is such a megalomaniacal bastard I wouldn't put such actions past him and that he would only see a man of similar intelligence as a potential roadblock to his absolute dominance.

Wesker's mole in the Raccoon facility Gavin Frost is supposed to be the same "Frost" whom Monica shoots dead in the opening sequence of the "Below Freezing Point" level from "Resident Evil: Outbreak" and is in no way intended to be of any relation to Joseph Frost. I figure he was another largely obscure character whom I could have taken some creative liberties with seeing as how he doesn't have much canonical backstory to contradict.

This chapter is inspired by "The Hunted Becomes the Hunter" from the original story and "Payback's a Bitch" is a recycled title from another chapter in the original story, a fitting title for what goes down.

Well I think that's everything covered for this chapter so until then read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	55. Ch 54: I'll Rest When I'm Dead

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Author's Note: And so your friendly neighborhood Metal Harbinger comes swinging back into action for another offering of "Reborn."

As of late I have been planning out a "roadmap" of sorts and it is safe to say that at this point I am cruising along the home stretch and have maybe 5 or 6 chapters left before I call it finished, but I will say that along the way there may be a few unplanned "surprise" chapters that pop up, this latest offering happens to be one of them.

As I may have stated before, my last chapter was inspired by an actual chapter from the original story and at the end of that chapter, there is a scene that turned out to be longer than expected, which leads to this "surprise" that I hadn't planned out, and this too turned out to be longer than expected.

All I can say at this point is read and review when you're finished, that and on with the story!

XXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 54: I'll Rest When I'm Dead

It had been roughly two hours since his dramatic final encounter with Albert Wesker and now all Jake Cavanaugh wanted to do was get as far away as he could, making his way down a cleared path in the darkened woods with Sara Quigley at his side, his thermal goggles acting as their guide.

As it typically was during his travels with the S.T.A.R.S. medic, both remained silent. It didn't bother the hitman much as he could now be alone with his thoughts.

_"It's over, but for how long?" _he asked himself.

Sure he survived, but now what would become of him?

_"I can't find a shrink. Too many people already want my head on a silver platter. If the guy knew he was treating a wanted cop killer he'd be dialing 911 before he'd be letting me relax on his fancy sofa. I doubt there's such a thing as some support group for survivors of biohazardous nightmares I can go spilling my guts to. I definitely won't be surrendering to the authorities either; Johnny Law will have to work for his next big bounty," _he told himself, unable to ignore the elephant in the room.

Being a wanted fugitive he knew there wouldn't be many places left for him to hide. Even if he were to seek shelter in the northernmost mountains or the southernmost deserts, it would have only been a matter of time before some hardnosed lawmen were hunting him down with a pack of bloodhounds at the lead.

_"I can't run forever," _he said to himself swallowing hard at the realization and looking down to the rifle dangling beneath his left arm, _"and I'm not eating a bullet to take the easy way out," _he thought, shrugging off the idea as quickly as it popped into his head.

But what else was there for him? Granted he had killed a madman, saved a cop and had hopefully provided enough evidence to help bring down a multinational corporation secretly specializing in illegal bioweapons research, but he was doubtful that would be enough to convince the authorities to forget his past transgressions. He could only hope Alyssa Ashcroft's words would hold weight for a long while before anybody started getting suspicious.

The thought of a cold, dark cell wasn't a pleasant thought and it had him looking more keenly at his surroundings, wanting to take in a natural beauty he wouldn't see from the confines of a stone fortress.

Most of the trees around him were nearly bare due to the coming winter, but they still looked beautiful in their own subtle way and even the dull rock formations looked splendid. Multicolored leaves littered the forest floor, yet under the moonlight they all looked the same. He didn't care, he just wanted to relive that same euphoric serenity he felt right after his escape from the underground research facility back in Raccoon.

_"Not many people around who can help either. I'd assume all of Ryan's friends are dead by now and the O'Bannons were in pretty bad shape last I heard. Quite a shame because Old Ewan always promised he'd send me on a trip to Ireland, let me get acquainted with the motherland firsthand. It would be a perfect escape at a time like this."_

Thinking of friends from the past made him think of all the others he battled his way through the biological nightmare with and furthermore, if any of them were still alive.

_"Kevin, Alyssa and the others from the bar, Leon and Claire, Sherry, Jill and Carlos, David McGraw and his group, I wonder what happened to all of them. Hopefully they managed to make it out and tell the rest of the world what was going on. Either that or they got rounded up by Umbrella's hit squads and massacred one by one."_

Umbrella – the very word was practically vulgar to him now.

He survived tangoing with their monstrosities, but the insidious corporation still existed and would likely find a way to cover their tracks.

_"Like the saying goes: money talks and bullshit walks," _Jake told himself, furrowing his brow at the realization. The massive conglomerate still had plenty of other offices located all over the world, a private army at their disposal, a five star legal team that would defend them before even the toughest judges and a P.R. firm that would be working on overdrive to tie up any remaining loose ends, anything to keep their consumers the ignorant sheep flooding into the pharmacies for their products. Trying to launch a full-scale war against them would be suicidal.

_"Taking down these fuckers would be a goddamned long process," _he told himself, his teeth clenching at the realization. He didn't want to wait for karma to come along and bite them on the ass; he wanted them dealt with as soon as possible.

But for now he was stuck out in the middle of the woods, battered and bloodied, hungry, fatigued, and cold, his only companion being a cop in a similar state, a far cry from the army and arsenal that would be needed for such an endeavor.

_"Oh well, she's helped keep me warm thus far," _Jake told himself peering towards the woman clinging to his shoulder from the corner of his eye, thinking in a purely non-sexual manner as he realized how cold it truly was and how the tattered rags clinging to him offered little protection. As they approached an incline the wind picked up, ruffling his damp hair and freezing his exposed skin, a sensation that left him feeling like a bucket of water had just been tossed onto him and causing him to let out a string of sneezes.

"Are you alright?" Sara piped up for the first time in nearly two hours.

Jake did not reply right away, snorting heavily and spitting out large globs of phlegm before speaking, "I'm fine, just damned cold," he rasped, blowing out a cloud of icy breath to emphasize his point.

"I feel you," the medic replied, "I'd kill for a blanket right now. I swear I'm about ready to join you."

"Yeah, oh well, nothing that a warm meal, a nice long shower and a cozy bed won't help," Jake said before lifting his other arm and taking a whiff of his armpit, his face contorting, "ugh…can't forget a change of clothes either."

"You said it," Sara half-laughed, "Throw in some soft jazz music and scented candles for the added ambiance."

"Are you going where I think you're going with this?" Jake asked with a smirk, a rare attempt at humor on his behalf. When an awkward glance came as his only reply he quickly diverted his eyes away from hers, "Sorry," he said looking down to her bandaged leg, "How's your leg holding up?"

"Well I'm still standing aren't I?" Sara replied, "Definitely gonna need some rest soon, that plus some fresh bandages."

"Sure as shit," Jake grunted, his lungs feeling heavy as he struggled to suppress the coming cough, but failed. What started as one small cough soon morphed into another drawn out string of violent hacking that left him clutching his stomach before it finally stopped, "Don't know if I'll be standing much longer if this shit keeps up. We'll have to make sure we have a fireplace included when we find this 'warm room' you speak of. Don't need a fucking cold after all the other bullshit I've gone through," he chuckled.

"Well we're not going to find the necessary amenities around here," Sara replied with a wave of her hand, "Gotta keep moving," she finished in a near whisper, perhaps wondering if more of those red-eyed freaks were still lurking about.

None of those commandos had been spotted since and he was left to wonder if they had finally given up with their supervisor dead, that is if there were still any left to follow him. He knew he had killed quite a few of them back at the campground and from the sound of things; their numbers were already spread too thin by then.

"Aside from your leg, how are you holding up?" Jake asked, attempting to make small talk with the young woman.

Sara sighed quietly at the question, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that she was determined to answer, no matter how painful it would be.

"I'm hanging in there, but it just feels like such a hollow victory," she said looking away, "I mean, with Dean and the others gone it just doesn't feel right."

Jake could understand where she was coming from. No matter what villains in his life he had successfully eliminated, he felt emptiness within afterward, one where no matter how great his accomplishment was, in the end there was always something left missing.

It had been like that when he killed his father. Sure, the tyrannical bastard was dead, but in the end so was his mother and not only had she suffered, his sister Rose was there to witness the horror, plus he couldn't forget his three youngest siblings Jason, Rachel and Elizabeth would be left with no one after the way he stormed off.

It wasn't much different when he killed that sick bastard Melvin Edwards. Granted, he had taken out a serial rapist and at the time he felt as if his thirst had been satiated, the only time he had ever truly taken pleasure in killing somebody. Once the high went down though, Clarissa Belding was still dead and those other women were still traumatized, not the happy ending he had hoped for.

Then there was Viper, the greedy son of a bitch who had been like a brother to him, only to stab him in the back and leave him for dead. A traitor was snuffed from existence by his passing, but many others had still perished due to his treachery and a family empire he had been loyal to was on the verge of extinction as a result.

Lastly, you had Albert Wesker, a megalomaniac who probably would have plotted world domination had it not been for the hired gun's intervention. With his demise the planet would be safe for a little while longer, but a lot of people had still been killed in his mad pursuit, most of them innocent bystanders.

_"No matter how many bad guys you kill there are still innocents who suffer, always outnumbering the guilty," _he told himself as they came to an overturned tree obstructing their path.

"Sit down on the tree, I'll help you over," Jake ordered leading Sara over to it.

"Sure," she said doing as she was told, sitting down on the splintered sapling and the hitman swung a leg over to the other side before stepping his other foot over. Safely on the other side he then grabbed the medic's legs and gently helped her turn her body, her feet planting on the dirt trail. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Jake replied helping her up.

"How about you, how are you holding up?" the medic asked, resuming their conversation from before the detour.

"As good as I can be, I guess," Jake answered looking forward down the trail.

"So…do you have anybody waiting for you back home?" Sara asked looking at him almost warily, "A wife? A girlfriend? Brothers and sisters? Anybody?"

"Nope," Jake replied again focused on the trail ahead of him, "Not for a long while," he added, not being a fan of the short and sweet one or two word replies.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the medic replied, her tone deflated. In spite of the fruitless start, the hitman looked over and could tell through studying her facial expressions that she was determined to carry out some form of conversation.

"So...you think you're still gonna be a cop when this is all over with?" Jake asked, knowing it probably sounded like a silly question, yet felt curious given the nature of her recent experiences.

"I honestly don't know," Sara replied shaking her head, "I never expected something like this. I know this might sound weird to you, but I've never liked violence. I've always been a pacifist and wanted to help people, but I wanted to stop the bad people in this world and see them get what was coming to them.

"I know, it probably sounds weird to you," she said looking away in shame.

"Nobody expected anything like this to happen, but in times like this you have to do what you have to. It's either them or you, probably not what you want to hear, but that's just the nature of the beast. Cold hard reality coming back to slap you in the face," Jake spoke looking up towards an abandoned bird's nest.

"Right," was all Sara offered with a reluctant nod.

"I can't promise you that things are going to be okay once we're out of here," he said looking down to the woman as they happened across a small clearing, "We're both going to have our problems, no doubt about that, but I'm sure there's gotta be somebody you can reach out to for help."

"What about you?" Sara asked looking up to meet his gaze, "There's gotta be somebody to help you out. I'm sure your world can't be that small," she finished, tersely looking away when she realized how awkward that might have sounded. "Hey Jake hold up, those herbs over there, they can help us!" she eagerly called out, thrusting a finger towards some green herbs sticking out at the base of a fir.

It had to be her way of changing the subject, but for now he willfully acceded. "Sure thing," the hitman replied leading her over to the small patch dominated by the aforementioned herbs, enough to last them for a day's worth, depending upon the extent of their injuries. He gently lowered the medic onto a nearby log and let her get to work, taking the time to observe the surrounding flora for anything else of use.

"You think these berries might be safe for us to eat?" he asked grabbing the branch of a nearby shrub and shining his rifle-mounted light over it to show her the bright red berries covering it.

"I've seen those before, they're safe. You might as well grab a whole bunch. It's been a while since I've had a decent meal and I'm starving here," Sara replied, her mouth watering at the sight. "I'm gonna need a drink to. I'm thirsty," she added, suddenly stopping herself when she realized she may have started to sound a bit too demanding.

"Got it covered," Jake nodded unslinging the canteen and handing it to her, allowing her to take a drawn out gulp before she handed it back and he took one of his own.

"You'd better rest for a bit too. You've been lugging me around for quite a while," Sara said as she continued rifling through the herbs.

"Whatever you say, Doc," he replied taking a seat on a log nearby and grabbing a handful of freshly picked berries, a little withered from the cold conditions, but still good enough for consumption.

XXXXXXXXXX

"They're not far away," Gabriel Karkian whispered to himself, following the two separate sets of footprints along the dirt trail. The grizzled unit commander felt a fresh surge of adrenaline with his latest discovery and his creeping gait morphed into a spirit run.

"_I've come this far and you're not going to escape me Cavanaugh," _he told himself.

This mission is all he had left. It was the same mindset he had thirty years earlier when he spent two days straight tracking down that Viet Cong officer who had led the massacre against his platoon, the same man who had given him the distinctive scar running down his right eye. Battling against the sweltering heat, hunger and dehydration, as well as the multitude of booby traps set up by the Communist guerillas, he managed to track the son of a bitch down and killed him with his own bare hands.

Now here he was doing it all over again, pursuing a man who had murdered several of his colleagues. In spite of their physical, geographical and chronological differences, he swore he was still going after the same man, different yet somehow still the same.

There was no turning back. He had never been one to abort a mission, his pride as a soldier wouldn't allow it.

This was his battle to finish.

"_Soon," _he repeated over and over again as he continued down the trail, his aching muscles catching up and forcing him to slow his pace.

At this point he noticed the trail gradually widening and came to a halt, not putting it past Cavanaugh to possibly have an ambush set up. Creeping into the nearby bushes the commander withdrew the M24 sniper rifle strapped to his back and peered through the scope.

"Got you in my sights," Karkian whispered, finding his target sitting on an overturned log eating some berries. Seated next to him was the woman from the camp, their 'unnecessary prisoner' as he called her. Both of them were taking a break following a lengthy trek and he assumed they were oblivious to any possible threats, noting how the young man casually had his carbine off to the side.

"_Time for a 'wakeup call'," _he told himself taking aim.

XXXXXXXXXX

A gunshot knifed through the nighttime air, sending Jake reaching for his carbine and scrambling for cover behind the log, struggling to hide his muscular frame behind the half-buried obstruction.

"_Guess I was stupid to think I was safe," _he told himself, his heart racing and his biggest concern being Sara's safety.

Fortunately the medic had found cover on an incline behind her log, flat on her stomach and looking fearfully towards him. The L85A2 lay next to her and she could have easily returned fire with their latest attacker, yet she stared towards him, silently willing him onward to play hero for the fourth time this night.

Jake nodded towards her and peeked his head over the log looking in the direction where the shot came from. He saw nothing in the darkness ahead, causing his heart to pound even faster. There was somebody out there, someone who had likely followed him from the camp, the only rational theory he could come up with knowing there probably had been unaccounted for survivors following the firefight on Lookout Point.

Lowering his head the hitman then pulled himself to the side and peered around the log to see the Barrett rifle lying in front of Sara's log. Knowing of her fearful nature, he knew it would be up to him to retrieve it. He would have to leap over the log, snatch it and then leap back for safety. There was a considerable distance to cover given his current circumstances, assuring it wouldn't be a simple three step task, but it had to be done.

Jake looked over to the terrified medic, forward to the Barrett and then back to Sara, giving her a slight nod.

"Here goes," he muttered to himself, making a mental countdown from three before taking a deep breath and pulling himself over the log. Having cleared that hurdle his eyes darted around before he looked down to the waiting rifle and he leapt towards it to clear the considerable distance before shooting his hand downward.

It was then there was another loud blast followed by a puff of dirt as the ground exploded in front of him.

"That won't be necessary Cavanaugh," a voice called from the darkness.

Jake looked up to see a pair of those glowing red eyes staring back at him and the figure behind them gradually taking shape as he stepped into the light. The individual was dressed exactly the same as the other commandos, yet he carried himself in a different way, the kind of higher authority. It was when he noticed the glint off the golden bars he knew the man was different. A smoking sniper rifle rested in his gloved hands, one which he then trained on the hired gun.

"At last we meet face to face Red Dragon," the man spoke, the rage in his voice rising to new levels with every word he spoke, "I've been waiting for this moment and now you're mine."

"And who the hell are you?" Jake demanded, unarmed and mentally cursing his own foolishness, _"No time to be talking big, tough guy."_

Surprisingly the man slung the rifle over his shoulder and eyed him closely before reaching up to remove his gasmask.

"Unlike Wesker, I'm no fool. I believe a worthy opponent should know the true identity of his challenger," the soldier said removing his mask and tossing it to the ground. He was a Caucasian man in his early fifties, yet the collage of scars covering his leathery face made him look ten to fifteen years older, the most prominent being the one which ran down his right eye. His jet black hair was cropped close to his head in a typical soldier cut and he stared towards him with unblinking steely gray eyes, his grim stiffness emphasized by scowling eyebrows and a prominent jawline. This was a man who had seen many battles in the past, hardened by years of bloodshed.

"Unit Commander Gabriel Karkian at your service," the man introduced himself.

"So you're the bastard who's been making my life hell? I don't know whether I should feel honored or not to meet your sorry ass," Jake sarcastically retorted.

The commander ignored his smartass comment, staring intently at him with slow, rhythmic breaths. Breaking his gaze, the man unzipped a compartment in his vest and pulled out a ragged cloth, staring at it hatefully and crumpling it in his gloved hand. The sight left the hired gun wanting to scratch his head, wondering what his deal was. It wasn't until the man tossed the soiled linen on the ground that he knew what it was all about.

It was the red dragon that had adorned his favorite shirt! How did this man get it?

"You slaughtered a lot of my men," Karkian spat hatefully, his gray eyes dagger-like and his words acidic.

"Why the hell should I care? You worked for that bastard Wesker, that right there tells me you and your boys aren't worth crying over," Jake shot back, his tone almost casual.

The grizzled commander's gaze softened by centimeters, but his posture remained rigid, "I guess such indifference towards your actions shouldn't surprise me, you're Steve's boy."

Jake bristled at the sudden mention of his father's name, the abusive, authoritarian ogre who made the first eighteen years of his life pure hell. The mere mention of his name was enough to send shockwaves throughout his body, causing his blood to boil.

"What's it to you?" the hitman asked, unable to disguise his contempt. He was already fighting the urge to tackle the man to the ground and wring his neck for bringing up such a painful subject. _"More importantly, how does this bastard even know my old man?" _he asked himself.

Karkian chuckled bitterly at his inquiry before replying, "Wesker ran a background check on you before he made that call, quite the coincidence it would be the son of an old war buddy. Your old man and I go a long way back. We served together in Vietnam, watching each other's' backs against those gooks, hell I got this scar saving his ass from a Commie sniper," he said tracing his finger along a deep groove on the weathered surface just above his left eye, one which traveled far enough to leave a streak of bare skin visible where his dark hair began.

Jake said nothing, glaring hatefully towards the man as he continued his demented history lesson.

"Your old man saved my ass quite a few times but believe me, he could be quite the ice cold killer when the time called for it," Karkian finished with a bitter laugh, "Heck, I'll never forget how he blasted those bastards in that one village near the Mekong, showed no mercy on their leader when he tried to surrender," the Commander spoke almost merrily, his tone abruptly darkening, "just like you've done with my men. If you ask me, you've inherited your killer instinct from your old man. You're a born killer, just like him."

"You shut up about him!" Jake shot back, "That bastard was nothing but an abusive drunk who made my life a living hell. I oughta' kill you just for mentioning that prick's name."

Karkian offered no reply to the threat, tossing his rifle to the ground along with his sidearm. "You're damn right somebody is going to die tonight. This is going to be the end of the line, only one of us walks away."

"Heh, you sound like just another typical loser with a death wish," Jake replied tapping his fists together before raising them in front of him and throwing a few practice jabs, "but if that's what you want, it's your funeral."

The Commander said nothing and entered a fighting stance, slowly beginning to circle his prey. This was going to be the final fight for one of them and Jake could tell by the look in his opponent's eyes he was ready to go all out.

Karkian leaped towards him, only to pull back at the last second, a tactic meant to toy with his opponent. The feint attack had its desired effect as Jake leapt backwards, creating more space between him and the grizzled veteran. The unit commander followed up with an attempted spinning roundhouse kick, which the hitman would bend backwards to avoid, followed by an attempted sweep he would leap over before back stepping and nearly losing his balance.

Jake pushed himself back to his feet and saw the older man closing in on him, throwing a jab to halt his advance. Karkian easily dodged the attack and then swayed beneath an attempted roundhouse kick on the criminal's part. The veteran commando launched himself towards the hitman attempting a right hook which Jake brought his forearm up to deflect. With his opponent temporarily distracted, the commander brought his knee up and drove it into the man's kidney, sending him stumbling backward holding his side.

Having made first contact, the Commander attempted to follow up with a low kick to his opponent's shin, which Jake barely dodged, and then threw a left cross directed at his face, which he barely brought a forearm up to block. With his opponent drawn in, the hitman attempted an elbow strike, but Karkian snared his arm and twisted it before executing a judo throw over his shoulder that took him down to the dirt surface. Quickly shrugging off the fresh shockwave of pain, Jake rolled sideways to dodge a stomp directed at his face and kicked his left foot outward in desperation before pushing back to his feet.

Karkian let out a loud whoop and tried to follow up with a flying kick, which Jake again barely sidestepped and responded with a snap kick that caught his opponent square in the upper back, sending him falling hard onto his stomach. The grizzled veteran wasn't down for long and with a loud grunt pushed himself back to his feet.

Jake attempted to take advantage of the man as he was rising back to his feet, charging towards him and leaping into the air for an attempted flying punch. It was Karkian's turn to sidestep and the hitman found himself swiping at thin air, yet he caught himself this time and tucked his body to perform a forward roll as he landed, buying himself ample space.

Commander Karkian again attempted to close in on him, but Jake turned around and feigned a jab to the man's stomach, following up with a punch to his opponent's face. The old soldier was quicker to recover than expected and was met by a series of quick and powerful hooks from his adversary, able to block and dodge anything thrown at him. He waited patiently for that crucial opening and found it when Jake suddenly changed his method of attack and went for a haymaker, catching the younger man's arm and pinning it behind him.

Now trapped in a submission hold, Jake winced as his arm was stretched out and suddenly felt his left leg buckle as his foot was kicked out from underneath him. His head then whipped forth violently as his opponent head butted him from behind and struck him in the back repeatedly with clubbing forearm blows. The flurry of blows rained down upon his neck, shoulders and upper back at a rapid pace and he lost track of how many hits he had taken by the time his opponent drove his boot between his shoulder blades, sending him face down into the dirt and dried leaves.

With the young man at his mercy, Karkian clamped down on the man's leg and bent it painfully to the side, applying pressure from his own leg before kneeling down and wrapping his arm around the man's throat and then pulling backward.

"Not so tough now, are ya' kid?" the Commander taunted clinching tighter around the hitman's neck and continuing to yank backwards at an angle threatening to snap his spine.

Jake gagged violently as his breathing was restricted by the heavy grip around his throat, again knowing things weren't looking good and he would need to do whatever he could to free himself from the jaws of death. It was his tremendous willpower that kept him from accepting defeat and he was ready to improvise anything he could for that needed escape. He slapped his hand against the ground, blindly reaching for anything of use until his fingers dug into the dirt and it was then he knew what he needed to do.

Digging deep into the earth beneath him he clamped down onto a handful of dirt, gripping all he could before chucking it over with a mighty heave. The vice-like grip remained, telling him he must have missed. He wasn't about to give up and dug in deeper, grabbing another handful and repeating the same process, again he was still in the commander's clutches, yet the hold seemed to slacken. Good, he was getting somewhere and repeated the process with another handful, chucking it over his shoulder a third time and it was then he was finally released.

Heavy gasps escaped the hitman's lisp as he rolled over onto his back and struggled into a sitting position, backpedaling until he regained the strength to rise back to his feet. He listened to the commander's frustrated grunts and turned to find he had gotten several large clumps into the man's eyes and he was still fighting to get it out.

Not waiting to give the man an inch, Jake bolted forward and propelled himself into the air like a missile, his shoulder colliding with the man's sternum and sending him falling onto his back. Rage had gotten the better of him and with the roar of a feral animal; he began driving punch after punch into the older man's patchwork-like face, whipping his head back and forth with each violent blow, the face transforming into a red blur.

"How do you like that you son of a bitch?" the enraged hitman screamed, a meaty thwack following the next strike and the one that followed until he felt a pair of gloved hands clapping the sides of his head, sending him falling to the ground with his hands over his throbbing ears.

Commander Karkian hastily pushed himself back to his feet, his face a crimson mask and his nose a leaky faucet, blinking the fresh blood out of his gray eyes. Feral rage claimed the veteran and he let out a mighty howl before making his next charge.

Jake answered with a charge of his own and rushed towards his adversary, the two men charging at one another like two rival motorists engaged in a game of 'chicken.' It would be the hired gun who was the first to act, leaping into the air with his left leg extended and connecting with a flying kick that sent the Commander flying backwards into the trunk of an ancient oak tree. Again, the hardened commando did not stay down for long and was rising back to his feet with the tree as his brace.

"_What will it take to fucking kill this guy?" _Jake asked himself as he made another charge at the man, determined to finish him as quickly as possible.

He twirled his body and shot his foot outward, but Karkian ducked and instead his foot connected with the tree's surface. Seeing the man hadn't made it far he attempted a thrust kick directed at the man's prominent jawline with his other leg, only for the Commander to catch the hitman's foot beneath his armpit, setting him up for another submission hold.

"_No you don't," _Jake mentally shouted to his opponent, using his leg strength to twist his body and monkey flip the grizzled soldier over him. With a cat-like grace he hadn't expected his opponent to possess, he watched as Karkian landed on his feet and quickly sunk to a knee.

"Not bad, just what I'd expect from the son of 'Slaughterin'' Steve Cavanaugh," Karkian remarked pushing himself back to his feet.

"_Now I know why he's a Commander, this guy's no fucking wimp. He's really given me a run for my money," _Jake said to himself while resuming his fighting stance.

The Commander lunged towards him and the hired gun attempted to counter, finding himself trapped in a collar and elbow tie-up common in professional wrestling. The two men went back and forth in a test of strength, one that Karkian would attempt to turn in his favor by throwing Jake against a tree and driving his knee repeatedly into his opponent's side.

Jake suppressed grunts of pain with every strike, glaring hatefully into his opponent's eyes. The Commander attempted to lift him into the air, but the hired gun used his height advantage to stomp on the man's foot and then spit in his eyes to stun him. Slowly fighting his way back from the brink, he elbowed the man in the side, flipped sides with him and applied a choke hold, then finishing with a head butt to the aging soldier's jaw. With his challenger reeling, Jake wrapped his arms around his waist and planted with a belly-to-belly suplex, wheezing loudly as he connected with the ground.

"That's still not gonna be enough to put this old war horse down," Karkian grunted forcing himself onto his side, driven madly by his urge to take down the murderer of his subordinates.

The hitman wheezed loudly just a few feet away from him, struggling back to his hands and knees after taking his opponent down. It was becoming a frustrating occurrence for him, but knew he had to remain cool in order to prevail. A compromised fighter was a dead man and he knew the Commander was scouting him for that little opening he needed to make his move. He wasn't going to get his chance if Jake Cavanaugh had anything to say about it.

"Well c'mon punk, I haven't got all night," the Commander spat, globules of blood flying with every movement of his lips.

Jake ducked low and circled his opponent with his hands at his sides, sizing him up for a wrestling takedown, the Commander copying his movement. The hitman performed a shoulder roll to the left in an effort to throw Karkian off, yet the veteran kept his distance. Raising his foot high above his head he attempted an axe kick towards his lowered challenger, but the Commander would answer with a shoulder roll of his own and then launched himself towards the hired gun, latching onto his leg and trying for an ankle lock. Jake could feel the man's effort and began shaking his leg violently to get him off before any bones could be snapped. Acting out of desperation he planted his boot onto the veteran's shoulder, finally forcing him to relinquish his grip and sending the hitman flying backward.

Quickly pushing himself back to his feet Jake went for an uppercut, his blow connecting with the man's crossed arms. He went for a low roundhouse kick, which Karkian leap backwards to avoid, leaping up and nailing him in the chest with a high reverse roundhouse kick. Wasting no time, Jake made another charge with a haymaker that nearly knocked the Commander from his feet, following with a left-handed jab, another roundhouse kick and ending with an inside turning kick that again took Karkian from his feet.

Pain shot up Gabriel Karkian's back as he landed hard on a jagged rock surface. Coughing hoarsely, he could feel the warm coppery blood trickling from the side of his mouth and even more covering the back of his head. A loud crack as the man's foot connected told him his cheekbone had been broken. It was going to take more than that to keep the battle-hardened commander down and he again pushed himself back to his feet to stare his adversary in the eye.

"You're gonna have to do better than that…rookie," Karkian spat from behind his bloody smile.

"Always up for a challenge," Jake nodded in reply.

"Then let's make it that way," the Commander said reaching down and pulling out a blade that had been concealed in his boot.

The hired gun nodded and without a word drew his own combat knife, the two men again circling each other like vultures scoping out their next potential meal.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sara Quigley observed the fight from the shadows, peeking her head around the log which had acted as her seat. It had been quite the nail biter for her as it had proven to be quite a back and forth affair. Every time that soldier had gotten the upper hand she could feel her green eyes widening and her fingernails digging deeper into the ground. He was quite the fearsome fighter and seemed to have Jake matched move for move and for once, she found herself fearful as to whether or not her 'knight in shining armor' could overcome this latest threat.

What left her even more frightened was the thought of what would happen if Jake indeed failed to overcome his latest challenger. Would that soldier kill her too, or would he heinously violate her as that other bastard had attempted to? The sobering thought had been too much and again she felt the fresh streams of tears traveling down her cheeks as she stared down at the L85A2.

That very rifle could have been the deciding factor that would turn the odds in Jake's favor. All she needed to do was pick it up, get a bead on that mystery man and pull the trigger. One bullet and he would be at her savior's mercy.

Easier said than done.

The two men were locked in a violent war of attrition, spinning around at a manic pace like they were on some kind of demented carnival ride. Getting a clear shot would be next to impossible and knowing her luck, she would probably end up hitting Jake.

"_I should have listened to Mike," _she told herself, remembering how the marksman constantly badgered her to spend more time at the range brushing up on her shooting skills and furthermore, Dean suggesting she get acquainted with something bigger and more powerful than her Beretta after the team's last mission when they were dispatched to deal with that radical right-wing militia and she was left severely outgunned by their anarchistic opponents.

It had been Dean rushing to her rescue with a powerful shotgun and entire stockpile of ammo at his fingertips, much like the infamous action movie hero Tom Rango, while Mike provided cover from a nearby hill, showing off the shooting skills that had won him numerous tournaments.

On that day both men acted as her saviors and that had once again been the case in Springvale. Sadly, she was unable to return the favor and could feel herself overcome by feelings of inferiority.

As a medic it was her job to save people, yet she had failed two people she cared deeply about, as well as countless others, and now here she was finding herself in the same position all over again as another man fought for her. She was unable to do anything and the feelings of weakness soon turned to anger.

She was mad at herself for being injured; mad for not being a better shot, mad for not having the guts to take a risk, mad at being so worthless.

Another man was going to die because she couldn't find it within herself to grab that rifle and take the critical shot that would tip the scales in his favor.

She could only watch in silent horror as Jake continued to tussle with his stalker. For every blow he landed, the other man answered with two and with every hold or throw he executed, his opponent had a way to counter.

"_Please, there has to be some way you can win," _she mentally willed her protector, _"You came this far and you braved the impossible just to rescue me."_

In spite of the odds stacked against him, Jake appeared to hold his own and no matter how many times he was knocked down, he always got back up.

"_Oh god Jake please be safe," _she told herself, a quiet sob escaping her lips as the soldier drew a knife.

XXXXXXXXXX

Karkian was first to move, leaping forward and slashing his blade outward, his swipe leaving only a small tear in the fabric of Jake's Kevlar vest. He again leapt towards his opponent with another attempted slash, this time Jake succeeded in dodging the attack and poked his blade towards the advancing commander to deter him.

It did little and Karkian changed his stance so that the blade was now pointing downward and went for a downward stab, but Jake again sidestepped the attack. The Commander was prepared this time and kicked his leg out, bringing his opponent to a knee. With Cavanaugh stunned he went for another downward strike, but Jake brought his forearm up to block the attack and used his other hand to launch another uppercut into Karkian's exposed side, forcing him backward.

Jake twirled his body as he rose to his feet, catching Karkian hard in his already injured cheek with a spinning backhand before coiling his body again to deliver a spinning back kick.

"There's more where that came fro-Ahh!" Jake gasped in pain as the blade was suddenly embedded in his shoulder, the result of a spring-loaded ballistic knife.

Karkian quickly withdrew another knife concealed up his shirt sleeve and sliced his blade upward, drawing it across the young man's forearm as he attempted a block, leaving a clean red line reaching from his elbow to the wrist.

A warm sensation traveled along the criminal's arm as the blade made contact with his skin and a trail of blood shot out, discoloring the mud and grass beneath him. He also couldn't forget the blade embedded in his shoulder, sending fresh waves of pain up and down his arm with every muscle contraction. He was reluctant to pull it out; fearful it would cause him to bleed out. Whenever his blood was drawn it was always a signal of motivation, telling him he needed to step up his game and end things quickly, or face the end himself.

"Come on, I'm not finished with you yet pipsqueak!" Karkian taunted, staring lustfully at the blood covering his blade.

"Heh, for a hardened veteran you sure talk a lot!" Jake shot back, trying to plan out his next course of action against an opponent who was clearly on even ground with him in terms of combative prowess.

The cantankerous commander shot himself forward with his blade extended and Jake spun his entire body to avoid being impaled, executing a flying back kick that knocked the knife from his opponent's hand, the blade embedding itself in a nearby fir. The Commander staggering from the blow Jake again twirled his body, getting behind his opponent and wrapping his arms around the man's waist. _"Looks like all those years of watching professional wrestling is gonna pay off," _Jake thought as he fell backwards with his opponent above him and slammed him into the ground with a German Suplex.

Commander Karkian hit the ground with a sick thud and appeared knocked out by the blow, his arms and legs splayed out at his sides. If he wasn't dead with the angle he had fallen at, he would still be in serious pain when he woke up.

Unfortunately for Jake, he had landed awkwardly after the move's successful execution, falling hard on his shoulder and allowing the blade to dig its way deeper into his flesh.

"Fuck…" he muttered, the searing pain shooting its way through his limb, wondering if he was dangerously close to bleeding to death.

"_Is this how it all ends?" _he asked himself, _"Me, bleeding to death out here in the middle of the woods? Not exactly how I'd define going down in a 'blaze of glory.'"_

He looked over to the fallen Karkian, his form deathly still. That man had tracked him down a long ways and now there he lay, denied the revenge he sought. _"Guess it wouldn't be in vain if I can bring at least one asshole down with me."_

"Jake! Jake are you alright?" Sara called out and he looked past Karkian's prone form to see the medic stepping out from behind her cover.

There was a sudden flash of movement in front of him and he looked down to see the Commander beginning to stir.

"Sara, stay back!" Jake called back with a strangled cry and the young woman would see what he was talking about as the veteran rolled over onto his side.

"It's not over Cavanaugh," Karkian grunted, popping his shoulder back into place and slowly pushing himself back to his hands and knees, "You're gonna have to do better than that," he said looking away from his opponent and when the man was looking at his eyes widened – the M24 sniper rifle!

"No you don't!" Jake shouted leaping after the Commander, his outstretched hand clamping down on Karkian's ankle. Unfortunately he was too weak from the pain and his hand was easily kicked away.

The rifle was just inches away and the Commander scurried towards it still on his hands and knees. If he were able to get his hands on that gun it would be curtains for Jake Cavanaugh.

"_C'mon Jake, you can do this," _he mentally told himself, reaching down into the deepest crevices of his physical and mental strength, knowing he _had_ to stop that man.

Beyond the crawling commander he could see Sara Quigley standing in the background, rooted to her current spot, paralyzed by fear. He had already saved the S.T.A.R.S. medic more than once on this night and he knew she was pulling for him to succeed. If he were to die in this battle he knew things wouldn't bode well for her and didn't dare think of what Karkian would have in store for her, wondering if he were no different from his sicko subordinates.

"_C'mon damn it, on your feet!" _the voice within shouted.

Given a fresh surge of adrenaline, Jake pushed himself back to his feet with his good hand and looked down to see Karkian just inches away from the rifle, knowing it would be all his the next time his hand touched the ground. With a deep breath and a mighty roar the hitman launched himself into the air, landing on top of his opponent and wrapping his arms around the man's neck trying to apply a sleeper hold, but the Commander threw himself onto his side and brought his weight down onto Jake's already injured shoulder, forcing him to release the hold.

"You've got guts kid, but not good enough," Karkian spat slapping his hand down onto the rifle and using it as a brace as he pulled himself back to his feet. "Time to end this," he grunted while trying to steady himself on his rubbery legs and take aim at his fallen challenger, steadying his aim after some effort and training the crosshairs on Jake's face.

There were no final words to say as his finger curled around the trigger – and the bullet would miss its target entirely as another set of arms wrapped around him from behind.

Sara Quigley summoned all the strength she could and threw herself onto the hard-edged combatant, trying for a sleeper hold of her own. Unfortunately her petite 5' 4" inch frame provided little force, combined with her lack of actual combative experience and own injuries, she did little to slow the much larger commander down.

"Get off bitch," he hollered, using his left hand to claw at the woman while struggling to maintain his grip on the rifle with his right. After some trouble he finally managed to grasp a handful of her red hair and pull her head forward, pulling her over his shoulder and slamming her hard to the ground. "You're next!" he shouted to the downed woman.

It was that distraction that brought Jake Cavanaugh some much needed time and with all his might he shot his foot out, hard enough to snap the Commander's ankle.

"You bastard," Karkian spat through gritted teeth, trying to shrug off the fresh shockwaves of pain and struggling to maintain his balance. Even in his sorry state he had been through much worse and would give no opponent the satisfaction of knowing he was hurt, even if he would lose the fight. His pride as a soldier would not allow it and it was that pride which left him standing tall and trying again to steady his aim.

Jake looked up to see the rifle trained on him and with a loud _'oomph'_ pushed himself to the side and lunged back towards the Commander, who brought the M24 up to block his attack. The hitman caught himself and clamped down on the rifle, trying to wrest it away.

"No chance in hell," Karkian grunted, not allowing a broken ankle to slow him down, attempting to strike him with the rifle's stock.

Jake grunted in reply, standing his ground as he and the Commander pushed each other back and forth in a war of attrition. Whenever he took one step forward, Karkian answered with three steps back. The sweat cascaded from his forehead, coating every inch of his face, and the blood continued to leak from the fresh wound in his shoulder. He would find himself nearly deafened a second later as Karkian managed to squeeze the M24's trigger, firing a round harmlessly into a withered tree branch.

"My chance…is now!" the hitman shouted, gaining enough ground to drive his foot into his opponent's groin and finally seize the rifle away from him, swinging the stock hard against the man's chin and sending him falling flat on his ass. In spite of his injuries Commander Karkian still struggled back to his feet and there was only one thing left to do.

With the rifle at his hip Jake squeezed the trigger and sent an armor-piercing round sailing into the veteran's lower abdomen, sending him back to the dirt like a sack of potatoes.

"You're not getting up from that, asshole," Jake spat tossing the emptied rifle aside and returning his attention to Sara, who struggled back to her knees and was looking down at the ground.

Lying on the ground near her was the sole fragment of his favorite t-shirt, the red dragon burning bright through all the filth. The mythical creature wasn't there just because it was a cool design, it symbolized much more than that.

It was the manifestation of the dragon from his childhood dreams that had acted as his protector. In a sense it had grown to signify his warrior spirit and the vigor behind his iron will.

Kneeling down he picked up the tattered piece of cloth and stared at it quietly, remembering the awe felt when he first happened across the t-shirt in a Colorado skate shop four years earlier. The design on the front, it was so perfect and so true to the visions, almost as if the artist had been able to see inside his head and copy it down to the tiniest details. He _had_ to have that shirt.

As long as he had the dragon, he had everything which drove him.

On this night the dragon had protected another, standing out as more than just a design on a t-shirt.

"_No way in hell I'm losing you again," _he thought folding up the fabric and sticking it into his pocket before rising to his feet and making his way over to the injured medic.

"Now I owe you one," he said reaching down and helping her back to her feet. Thanks to her little stunt the Commander's bullet missed and he was given those precious extra seconds so desperately needed to recover. In his eyes she had truly proven her worth, showing she wasn't just some 'damsel in distress.'

He looked over to where the fallen Commander lay, unable to move his legs. His chest fell rapidly in ragged, irregular gasps that would soon turn into a violent coughing fit, rolling his head to the side to cough out the excess blood gorging in his mouth.

"C'mon, we should go now," Jake said throwing her arm around his good shoulder and leading her past the dying man when he called out.

"Heh, heh…as much as I hate to say it Cavanaugh…it looks like you…won this round," Karkian heaved, a rivulet of blood creeping out of his mouth's corner.

Jake stopped and looked down to the man's gray eyes, engaged in a silent stare down that would be broken by a bitter chuckle from the old man.

"Bet your old man…would have been proud of you," he rasped with a wolf-like grin.

Jake took a deep breath in an attempt to control himself, "My old man was never proud of anything I did, don't even get me started on that. He might have been a comrade-in-arms to you, but to me and my family he was nothing more than a drunken fiend, doing nothing but making our lives miserable. He murdered my mother and tried to pin it all on me, saying I drove him to do it. Next thing I know, he's trying to kill me and I'm fighting for my very life. I shot him dead; yes I murdered my own father."

Karkian breathed deeply before letting out another bitter chuckle while Sara gasped deeply next to him.

"Oh my god…Jake, is that true?" she asked looking towards him in horror, but he ignored her, focusing on the dying Commander.

"Heh…never thought…an ice cold killer like him…would be done in…by his own son!"

"Believe it," Jake retorted, "After what he did it's not like I didn't give him something he didn't deserve."

The mention of his former squad mate's fate brought reflections on his time in the Vietnam War once again, particularly during an excursion in the Mekong Delta. Then Private First Class Gabriel Karkian and his unit had been in the midst of a brutal gunboat battle when he had taken a round to the shoulder and was about to fall into the river below, until he was pulled to safety by the young Staff Sergeant Steven Cavanaugh.

He could hardly believe that here he lie now, done in by the son of his very own savior.

"Well I guess I should be thanking you, Cavanaugh," Karkian spat out in one drawn out gasp, "At least I got to die…a soldier's death, not be done in…by the cancer inside me. Doctor said I had less than a year left…no way in hell…I was gonna die…in a hospital bed!"

"You were a worthy opponent, even until the end, that I give you," Jake nodded.

"As much as I hate you…for what you did to my men…I hated Wesker even more…for the way he put my men in danger…treating them…like pawns!" Karkian rasped before unclipping a grenade attached to his harness, "At least you took the son of a bitch out…your work here is finished boy. Now run along…so I can make my escape."

Jake nodded and dragged Sara over so they could gather the rest of their equipment, leaving the dying Commander to be alone with his thoughts before he pulled the pin.

They were already a considerable distance away when the explosion of Gabriel Karkian's grenade sounded in the darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The explosion had no effect on the duo as they made their way silently along the trail; both of them having survived different warzones, the sound of a grenade no longer gave them cause to run for cover.

Again they were safe, but for how long?

Sara Quigley again stared awkwardly towards the man who led her along. Granted he saved her yet again and she returned the favor by trying to help him against that Commander Karkian fellow, but as the man lay dying he said some things that had given her the willies and it left more unanswered questions floating through her mind.

"Jake, is what that man said back there true? He said you killed your own father," she asked, swallowing deeply afterward. She knew he was likely to get pissed off, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

He had remained surprisingly calm, but did not answer, focusing on the road in front of him. If she wanted answers she was going to need to be more forceful and tugged hard at him, forcing him to halt.

"Answer me," she demanded, "Is what that man said true?"

Jake stared quietly towards her, visibly peeved, yet saying nothing and furrowing his vampiric eyebrows.

"What's it to you?" he replied, "What that man said back there was my own private business. He had no right to bring it up, end of story."

Sara forcefully pulled herself away from her companion, stumbling and falling backwards against a tree. It took some time to compose herself, but when she did she again stood upright, the L85A2 acting as her crutch.

"It does matter to me because I will not be aiding a known fugitive," she asserted, "I heard that man call you 'Cavanaugh,' as an officer of the law, don't think I haven't heard the name Jake Cavanaugh around before! You're a wanted killer and by all rights I should be bringing you in!"

Jake sighed irritably and shook his head, "Do we really have to go through this again? More importantly, do you think that should even be a priority right now? Christ, we just escaped from a bunch of fucking maniacs who had taken you hostage!

"I'm hurt, you're hurt, we're both tired and hungry; we're both miles away from any signs of civilization and who knows if we're still safe! For all I know there could be more of those spooks out their hunting us down! Do you really think we should be standing around arguing like this?"

"How should I know if I can trust you?" Sara shot back, not backing down, displaying a vigor he hadn't expected from the self-avowed pacifist.

Again Jake shook his head and went to scratch the side of his head, only to be halted by the pain in his shoulder and looked down to the blade still embedded there. He was at the end of his tether at was not in the mood for a lack of cooperation on her part.

"Have I tried to harm you once throughout this whole ordeal?" he shouted getting in her face.

"Not once," Sara replied, wondering if she should have, feeling a little self-conscious about possibly caving in to the pressure.

"Exactly my point," Jake exclaimed, "Just because I might be a hitman don't go assuming that I'm some kind of rampaging psychopath out to kill everything I see. You might disagree with me, but I have my own moral code and I would never harm an innocent on purpose. Believe me, I could go around making all sorts of hasty generalizations about you based upon your career, but have I once? No!

"Just you remember _Officer_; I could have left you to die back at that campground! I could have let those sick bastards rape you back in that cave! I could have done nothing and allowed that bastard back there to put a bullet in your brain as well! Did I do any of that? No!

"Don't blindly assume for one second that I'm incapable of doing the right thing just because of what I do for a living!"

Sara was disarmed by the hired gun's outburst, yet stood her ground, her green eyes locked on his and her jaw locked tight. She breathed deeply and clenched her first, saying nothing before relaxing her grip, "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Very well, now come on," Jake said extending his hand. Without hesitation Sara accepted and wrapped her arm around his good shoulder and they continued their journey.

"Seriously, I'm sorry," Sara spoke up, "With everything that's been going on now it's hard to know who to trust…it was like that back at Springvale," she said looking away in disgust, remembering the betrayal she had undergone there, "You never know who truly is on your side and what will be done once they finally turn on you."

"Well you can rest assured it has never been my intention to do to you whatever it was Wesker had in store or what those bastards would have done," Jake said looking over to her, "That bastard used me and I wanted to make things right, that's why I came looking for you when I heard they had taken a hostage."

"What did he use you for?" the medic asked.

Jake cleared his throat before speaking, knowing he would have to maintain his composure while again telling his story, "I was sent to kill a high-ranking researcher from Umbrella. He promised me ten million dollars for the hit. I went to Raccoon City to find the guy, but not too long after I showed up everything went to shit. I found the guy he sent me after, William Birkin, in an underground research facility, but by then he wasn't his old self…he was some kind of monster, the result of his own experiment."

Sara shuddered at the mention of experiments before regaining her composure, "So what happened after that?"

"After I took the guy out I separated from the group I was with and made my way over to Springvale. Once I finally met Wesker in person, he wanted me to join him full-time. I told him to fuck off. Next thing I know, he's destroying the money and ordering his men to hunt me down. I thought I'd killed him back there, but he must have done something to himself if he was able to come back and hunt me down like this," the hitman explained before looking over his shoulder, "I hope he's gone for good now."

"So what now? Where do you go from here once we get out of here? You're a wanted man, not many places you can go," Sara replied.

"I'll find something," was Jake's replied before thinking of what he told Alyssa Ashcroft, "If one of my companions from Raccoon has made it back to civilization, I'm a dead man for all the authorities know."

The S.T.A.R.S. member responded with a sharp glare before changing the subject, "So…is that true what you said back there? About killing your father?"

Jake bristled at the inquiry and listened to the woman's gasp that followed, knowing she had struck a nerve. The hitman had to take a couple deep breaths after her question and slowly composed himself before offering a reply.

"That's not my favorite subject to discuss," he replied candidly, "but if it means you'll never ask about it again, yes it's true. My 'father' was a drunken fiend. If he wasn't passed out on the couch, he was pounding the shit out of all of us. Granted, I was never the perfect son, but no matter what I did, he was always looking for some excuse to smack me around. What I said about him murdering my mother and trying to pin it all on me, that's true also. I was his scapegoat, don't ask me why."

"My god, that's horrible," Sara gasped.

Jake nodded and swallowed hard before continuing, "That night, I was literally fighting for my life. He'd gone off the deep end and had it in his mind that he wanted to kill me, nothing else. It was me or him. My only regret was that my sister had to be there to witness the whole thing."

"I guess I can feel where you're coming from. I too have a father whom I'm not very proud of," Sara said looking down in shame, "If I could erase his name from my life I'd do it in a heartbeat."

The duo came to a hill and they readied their weapons for whatever lay beyond, the hitman motioning for Sara to hang back as he crouched into a kneeling position and moved to the top with his M4A1 in hand. It was when he finally reached the top he dropped down to his stomach and moved forward, careful not to get any dirt into his fresh wound.

A wide open clearing awaited them at the bottom of the hill and towards the back, nearly invisible in the shade of the surrounding pine trees stood a small cottage with a beaten up pickup truck parked nearby. To an average lost hiker it would seem like a miracle in the middle of a nightmare, but the wary hitman knew better.

"Sara, give me the Barrett," he whispered, motioning with his hand, adding "Please" to the demand when he remembered their little talk from moments earlier.

"Okay," she whispered, unsling it from her shoulder and warily handing it to him.

Jake took the rifle and made his way back to his perch, taking a knee and peering through the Barrett's scope. The cottage's front door was shut and he shifted towards the windows, finding no lights on and making it difficult to detect movement. He reached up to pull down his thermal vision goggles, only to find one of the lenses busted, no doubt incurred during his fight with the Commander.

"Terrific," he hissed, _"Gonna have to do things the old fashioned way," _he thought again peering through the rifle's scope and seeing no smoke rising from the chimney, yet the truck's presence left him wondering if there was some half-crazed survivor with an itchy trigger finger waiting inside. Overall there appeared to be no signs of forced entry, a welcoming notion. He was drawn to the small building and knew he needed to check it out before moving on.

"Jake, do you see anything?" Sara asked creeping up behind him.

"Yeah, come on," he said taking her arm around him and cautiously leading her to the hilltop where she was now able to see the cottage. "Hopefully there'll be some food or some other kind of supplies we can use. No doubt we've still got a long haul ahead of us."

"Sure thing," Sara replied unenthusiastically. She wasn't too keen on the thought of raiding a home where people probably still lived, but knew trying to talk the hitman out of it would be an uphill battle. _"I hope there still are people who live there," _she told herself as he carefully led her down the incline towards the cottage, stopping behind a tree to take aim for any possible threats before leading her over to the parked truck.

"Wait here," the hired gun ordered and carefully made his way around the truck, again looking both ways before bolting towards the cottage, slowing down when he realized how tall the surrounding grass was. He knelt down and scurried on his hands and knees, canvassing the building for a back door, but finding nothing. As it was from the hill, there were no signs of life visible within and he made his way towards the front door, looking back to Sara and nodding. Again looking over his shoulder before acting, Jake reached out and grasped the doorknob. It was locked, no surprise there.

"Let me help," Sara spoke up and hobbled over to the front door, producing a lock pick that had once belonged to her deceased colleague Robyn Xavier. Inserting the pick into the lock she proceeded to go to work and within ten seconds they were rewarded with a 'click.'

Jake nodded to her in appreciation and entered first with his rifle drawn. Switching on the mounted flashlight, they entered a living room/dining area filled mostly with stacks of empty boxes and furniture covered by old bed sheets.

"Looks like nobody's been here for a while," Sara whispered, only to be cut off by Jake raising a finger to his lips to shush her and then pointing over towards the dining area.

"Not quite," he replied leading her over to the dining table, where a few emptied food containers were left out and then he looked over to a small trash bin and saw the bloodied bandages sticking out from the top. "There were just here," he said looking over to a half-opened door in the corner, "I'll scout ahead, see if I can find anything."

"Make it quick, I need to treat that wound," the medic replied looking to the knife still sticking out of his shoulder.

Jake hugged the wall to the door's left and took another deep breath before nudging it open with the M4A1's barrel, finding himself in a bedroom with three separate beds, the one to his right having recently been disturbed.

The cocking of an automatic weapon came from his right and before he knew it there was a barrel being pressed against his neck.

"Don't move," came a voice from behind the gun, "Drop your weapon."

On cue two more individuals popped up from behind the bed at the opposite side, one of them wielding an automatic weapon with a flashlight attached and blinding the hitman, who then forcefully had the rifle slapped from his hands, sending it clattering noisily to the hardwood floor before shining his own light on Jake.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" Sara called out from the dining area, heavy footfalls indicating she was limping towards the bedroom.

The man aiming at him from behind the bed suddenly lowered his weapon as the medic called out and a quiet gasp escaped his lips. "Sara, is that you? Sara, it's me Robbie!" he called out rising to his feet and making his way around the bed. He was a young man in his early-to-mid-twenties with short light brownish-colored hair, currently matted down by layers of blood and sweat. His attire hinted that of a special police operative, a dark blue tactical vest, tan-colored cargo pants and black fingerless gloves, an MP5 was hanging limply in his hand as he pushed past the hitman, the glint off a gold nametag revealing him as _'R. MARIN.' _He also took notice of a bloodied bandage wrapped around the man's torso and then the bloodstains on the disturbed bed, wondering if he had been laying down when they arrived.

"Oh my god…Robbie, you're alive!" the medic called back.

"Sara, I'm here too," the man holding Jake at gunpoint called out, forgetting about the hitman and pushing his way past, another young man roughly around his height with dark auburn hair contrasted by sky blue eyes, wearing a forest green tactical vest over a black t-shirt and gray cargo pants, his gold nametag revealing him as _'M. FORRESTER,' _striding past with a SIG 556 in hand.

"Mike, oh thank god!" she shouted.

Jake temporarily forgot about his current situation and peered through the opened door to find both men throwing their arms around Sara and embracing her tightly.

"We thought you were dead," Robbie rasped before kissing her on the side of her head.

"I thought the same of you guys too," Sara exclaimed returning the man's gesture; "I'm so glad I'm not the only one who made it out…the others…Dean…" she trailed before breaking down into tears, only to be comforted by her colleagues.

Jake quietly watched the joyous reunion, pleased to see some good fortune for the long suffering medic, knowing there were many who would never see their loved ones again because of Umbrella and Wesker's sickening desires.

"You…you're face, I know who you are!" a voice came from behind, followed by the cocking of a large caliber handgun.

Jake whirled on his heel to be met by the barrel of a Mark XIX Desert Eagle and its carrier, the woman hiding behind the bed, a fiery gaze of determination burning in her bright green eyes. She appeared to be of either Mediterranean or Hispanic descent with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing a torn black t-shirt, stained blue jeans, dark brown hiking boots, fingerless gloves and a harness with two pistol holsters attached. Underneath the layers of filth covering her exposed skin she still appeared to be a very beautiful young woman. Right now though, he had to be more worried about the large gun, her aim unwavering.

"Angela, what's going on?" Mike called out from the other room.

"I know who you are," the woman called Angela whispered to him, her knuckles whitening as she strengthened her grip on the powerful hand cannon. Her brow furrowed and listening closely, her teeth could be heard gnashing together, overcome by a rage she struggled to contain.

"Do you?" Jake asked almost nonchalantly, examining the woman closely, yet he was unable to recognize her from anywhere.

"Angela, what the hell is going on?" Robbie demanded, his tone betraying his uneasy nature and the tension shared by his cohorts.

"It's him…the bastard who murdered my brother!" Angela hollered, her finger curling around the trigger.

A gunshot soon shattered the tension within the small cottage…

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: What's this we've got? Why another cliffhanger? Metal Harbinger, you evil little son of a bitch you!

I wanted the fight to have a "Metal Gear Solid-esque" feeling behind it, in the sense of Commander Karkian's pre-fight dialogue and post-fight monologue, where in those games whenever a boss dies, they don't just fall over and croak, nope they always have to give some long-winded speech before they finally kick the bucket.

I had Commander Karkian suffering from cancer because pretty much all the bosses you fight in the MGS series have some kind of unique quirk, disability or past trauma that leaves them with a serious death wish and I gave the Commander a combination of the latter two because I wanted there to be some serious kind of incentive behind him knowingly tracking down a man who slaughters a majority of his platoon, knowing such an endeavor could very well result in his own death.

In the original I also had it where Commander Karkian knew Jake's father from his days in Vietnam and I had seriously thought about scrapping that link, but in the end I decided to keep it in place figuring it would make the fight more interesting and also be cool for there to be a once in a million kind of coincidence.

Well I think that's pretty much the end so until next time read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	56. Ch 55: Shots in the Dark

Darkness Arises: Reborn  
by Metal Harbinger

Chapter 55: Shots in the Dark

A gunshot soon shattered the tension within the small cottage…

…fortunately, Jake had taken notice of the sudden flash of red and shot his hands out, gripping the woman's shoulders and pulling her down to the floor with him, the bullet sailing above his head and shattering the glass face of a cuckoo clock.

"What the hell?" Angela called out reaching for her fallen gun.

"Robbie, no!" Sara shouted and the hitman looked up to see the S.T.A.R.S. member raising his MP5, letting loose a volley of automatic rounds.

His attempted counteroffensive touched off powder keg of pandemonium and the roar of multiple firearms discharging at once sent the three officers falling to the floor, hundreds of armor-piercing rounds punching through the cottage's wooden exterior, raining down bits of wood, glass and other shattered objects upon the five weary survivors. The barrage occurred nonstop for roughly three seconds, but in the end the small building was filled with more holes than a sieve, the cloud of gun smoke filtering inside.

The five survivors were splayed out on the wooden floor, knowing their enemies probably had their weapons trained on all entrances waiting for any signs of movement. Tense silence followed, their deep, hurried breaths being the only sounds made until Robbie gagged on the smoky air, quickly cupping his hand over his nose and mouth.

"It must be more of those black-masked freaks from Springvale," Mike whispered, rolling onto his side with the SIG 556 held close to his chest.

"Wonder how the hell they could've tracked us here," Robbie replied, ejecting and checking over his current magazine before slipping it back into place.

"You must've led them here," Angela spoke to the hired gun, her green eyes narrowing as she muttered "bastard" beneath her breath.

Jake ignored the woman's insult and crawled over to snatch up his carbine before looking over to Mike and Robbie, "I take it you know them freaks too."

They both looked back to the dark-haired woman as if seeking her approval. When she nodded reluctantly Mike spoke up.

"Back in Springvale," he muttered, "Those bastards just appeared from out of nowhere and started shooting everything in sight."

"I didn't matter whether whatever they were shooting at was alive or dead," Robbie spat, wincing as he applied pressure on his wounded side.

"Whoever they were working for, we suspected they were probably there on some sort of cover up mission," Mike Forrester finished.

"For whom, we have no idea," Officer Marin added.

"Looks like Wesker still has some lapdogs out there," Jake replied, "They're not giving up until I'm dead," he added crawling on his belly towards Sara, who had taken cover beneath the dining room table.

"Wesker? Who the hell is that?" Mike asked giving him an odd look.

"Some bastard who gave me a whole hell of a lot of trouble, but there's no need to worry about him. That motherfucker's dead and gone, that's all that matters," Jake replied before turning his attention over to Sara, "Patch me up."

"Please tell me you're not serious," the medic replied, only to be silenced by another sharp glare from the hitman.

"We don't have time to argue. No doubt those bastards are preparing to storm this place and we're going to need all the able bodies we can get. Now just get this damn knife out of me so I can help," Jake snarled presenting his injured shoulder.

Sara looked at him long and hard before sighing heavily and shrugging her shoulders, "Damn you for making me do this," she said opening her medical kit.

"You're welcome," Jake sarcastically retorted as she slipped on a pair of latex gloves and then pulled out a pair of tweezers and a sterile disinfectant pad.

"Just shut up and hold still," the medic snapped as she clamped the tweezers down on the blade, mentally counting down to herself before ripping the blade from his shoulder. The hitman winced and gritted his teeth as she quickly applied pressure to the wound. "Okay, you're really gonna need to hold tight now," she said pulling out a small bottle of alcohol.

"Do whatever you have to," Jake hissed through gritted teeth.

"I wonder how many of them are out there," Robbie Marin whispered to his longtime colleague and friend, "For sure, those bastards like traveling in packs."

"Well whatever the final count is, it won't be pretty either way," Mike Forrester replied, taking notice of the Barrett M82A1 their recent arrival had brought along and reaching over to inspect it.

"Heh, the only silver lining out of this would be that we get the chance to pop a few more of these bastards after what they did to Vic and Timmons," Marin replied, the field scout displaying that unusual, and at times like this, morbid sense of optimism he was well-known for.

"Guess you've got me there," the marksman sarcastically setting the Barrett to his side and looking over to Angela, who still maintained her unwavering gaze upon the dark-haired man now being treated by Sara, "Cataldo, how are you holding up?"

"I'll be a lot better later on," Detective Cataldo replied, gesturing threateningly towards Jake, who had let out a strangled cry as Sara poured the alcohol over his wound.

Mike looked uneasily over to Robbie, who shared a similar look of concern.

Both of them were well aware of why Angela had come to the area and that was to find the man who murdered her brother. Now here she was under the same roof as him and they could see in her eyes she was itching to take him down. Mike theorized the only thing holding her back was their presence, yet he wondered how much longer she would allow that to slow her down. They needed to act fast in order to avert a possible disaster. Listening for any movements and hearing nothing, he crawled on his belly towards the lone detective.

"Angela listen to me, now is not the time. I know you have your personal reasons for going after this guy and quite honestly, I'm not too fond of being in the same room as him either, but right now he is the least of our worries," the level-headed marksman tried to explain, earning another sharp glare from the headstrong detective, yet he stood his ground.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're pinned down by a bunch of trigger happy freaks and there are only five of us here, not to mention three of us are hurt. I don't know how many of those bastards are out there, but they're well-coordinated and they've got us outnumbered big time. We have no means of calling for backup and waiting them out definitely isn't an option.

"We're gonna have no choice but to fight our way out and we need every available shooter we have at our disposal. Jake seems to know his way around a gun and he's gotta be damn tough if he's tangled with these freaks and survived. Whether you like it or not, we're gonna have to set aside our differences and work with him, or else we're not leaving this place alive."

Mike then turned his attention back towards the fallen gunman, now in the midst of having his wound thoroughly sprayed down with some first-aid spray.

"Look, for now just _pretend_ you're willing to tolerate the guy. When this is all said and done, then you can slap the cuffs on and haul him away," the marksman finished.

Angela stared quietly towards Mike, a man she had come to trust as he watched her back when they were fighting for their lives back in Springvale, and how he had seemingly sacrificed himself to hold off those Alpha Hunters in that underground research facility. Now here he was playing devil's advocate in favor of the very man she had risked her life to track down.

She then returned her attention to Jake Cavanaugh, her brother's murderer, watching as Sara applied a sterile dressing.

Contrary to what Mike said, it was never her intention to take that man alive.

Angela Cataldo wanted revenge for the murder of her big brother and she was determined to put a bullet in his killer's skull, an eye for an eye.

She had traveled all the way over from Brooklyn for this opportunity, embarking upon a mission without the backing of her department; to them she was still on indefinite suspension, making this nothing more than a glorified act of frontier justice. The act was criminal and there were many who would say she was no better than Cavanaugh for carrying out such a deed, but the desire for vengeance ran that deeply through her veins.

Now here he was lying just a few feet away from her, having completed her mission of finding him. All she needed to do now was pull the trigger and it would have been over with.

But at the same time, as much as she hated to admit it, Mike was right.

Here they were surrounded by more of those gun-toting freaks, the detective having witnessed their deadly prowess firsthand and how they had managed to execute a few of the highly-trained Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. members with very little effort, like 'shooting fish in a barrel' as one of those heartless bastards put it. She hoped she had seen the last of them after escaping that research facility.

Now they had come back for another round and when they were at their weakest.

One of them had been just inches away from ending her life and yet it was Jake Cavanaugh who had saved her from certain doom.

Yes it was him, that murdering bastard who had saved her life, pulling her out of the way before that bullet could tear through the back of her head.

"_But why?"_ the detective asked herself, she had him at gunpoint and was just milliseconds away from pulling the trigger. His rifle was nearby and he could have easily ended her life right there, yet he didn't.

"_No time to make a saint out of a sinner just yet," _she reminded herself, knowing he might have saved her yet still questioned his ulterior motives. _"Sure, he's kept you alive for now, but what about when this is all over with?" _Her thoughts were soon interrupted.

There was another sudden roar of gunfire and the five battered survivors again threw their hands over their heads lying face down on the floor, jolted as much larger bits of debris rained upon them.

"Fuck!" Jake spat as a lighting fixture fell next to him, showering him in bits of broken glass. The cacophony of gunfire had seemingly grown in volume, telling him their faceless attackers were getting dangerously closer to their rickety hideout, beams of moonlight peering through the cracked boards, followed by the suffocating clouds of gun smoke.

"Alright, you're the cops; you'd better be thinking of some way outta this shit storm!" Jake shouted over the murderous din, "If you haven't noticed, the 'sitting duck' strategy isn't working out!"

Mike Forrester looked back to answer him when he noticed a pair of glowing red eyes in the shattered window overlooking the dining room table, the owner preparing to fire upon Jake and Sara. Raising his rifle he let loose a barrage, rewarded by a crimson mist.

"Yeah, fight back!" the marksman replied just as two loud explosions came from behind him and he turned to see Angela dropping another commando that had attempted to surprise them through the lone bedroom window.

An explosion came from his left and Jake turned to find the cabin's front door blown from its hinges, followed by a large commando equipped with an M60 machinegun looking to make his entrance. It would never come to be as the hired gun raised his M4A1 and fired a salvo of armor-piercing rounds into the man's chest and sent him falling backwards, firing his gun into the air as he fell to the ground. There were two more men behind him and they were quickly forced into cover as he fired upon them.

There was another commando on hand to knock out the remaining glass of the adjoining window, but Robbie Marin was there to cover him with another burst from his MP5, sending the man falling forward and impaling him upon the largest remaining shard.

The bark of another rifle came from behind them and they turned to find Sara Quigley attempting to defend herself, having to brace herself against the dining room table as she struggled to keep the L85A2 in her clammy hands. Her comrades had done so much to keep her safe and now she was trying to return the favor.

Robbie saw her dilemma and attempted to provide backup. He had trouble keeping a steady aim due to his injuries, but he would quickly catch himself and managed to drop the commando Sara had been firing at, including one of his buddies preparing to chuck a grenade into the living room, an explosion following. His submachine gun clicked empty and he was going to reload when he stole a glance towards his colleague and then his eyes widened.

A red dot traveled along the medic's side and was trailing its way towards her heart, most likely an armor-piercing round.

"Sara, look out!" he screamed running over and tackling her out of harm's way. The thunderous crack pierced the air and a lone round ripped through the material on the back of the officer's vest as he remained airborne, missing his flesh by mere inches.

The two officers landed hard on the floor, unfortunately for them it was on top of some broken glass. Both of them winced as they felt the fresh shards digging into their exposed skin, but thankfully none of them appeared large enough to cause any serious harm.

Sara was the first to recover and looked over to Robbie, "Don't you ever do that again! You could've been hurt. You've already scared me once and I don't need it happening again. I've already lost plenty of good teammates."

There was no time to respond as another explosion came from the adjoining room. Jake sprang into action, barely avoiding a trio of bullets that came just inches from hitting his shoulder. He ignored them and charged through the door, finding himself in the cottage's kitchen, where three more commandos had just used an explosive charge to breech the back door, one of them armed with a UGL grenade launcher.

"Contact!" one of the men shouted, only to be cut down a second later by an armor-piercing salvo from the hitman.

Unfortunately for Jake, his carbine had clicked empty at the worst of all possible times.

"Die motherfucker!" a commando screamed, two more appearing behind him to unleash a barrage of their own.

Jake rolled back into the living room to avoid the bullets, barely dodging another blast from a commando who was quickly cut down by Robbie. Shots fired from the bedroom told him Mike and Angela were both still alive and were giving their all to hold the fort.

The USAS-12 assault shotgun rested on the floor and he quickly scooped it up, firing a Frag-12 round into the chest of the commando that had been hot on his heels, sending him falling backwards into the stove while the man right behind him took two rounds to the gut and was sent slumping against the refrigerator. The two other commandos would suffer a similar fate, their armor doing little to protect them from the explosive rounds and before long they were joining their comrades on the floor as broken, bloodied husks.

"We have to get outta here!" Mike shouted before firing another barrage through the bedroom's shattered window.

"How are we going to do that? We're surrounded!" Angela called back.

"We're just gonna have to make our own exit," Mike shouted back helping the detective back to her feet and leading her back into the living room.

"But where will we go?" Sara asked a pair of glowing red eyes appearing in the window before her and she fired a barrage. The eyes soon vanished only to be replaced by two more sets, Mike and Angela firing in unison to take down the new attackers.

"Anywhere but here," Mike called back before loading a fresh clip into his rifle, "Just be ready to fire like a couple crazy motherfuckers!"

"I'll cover the rear flank," Jake shouted, earning another glare from Angela, who likely assumed he would probably use the pandemonium around them as an excuse to make his exit. There was no way in hell that would be happening, knowing of what happened to those who tried finding their own way out.

Raising his assault shotgun the hitman took down another commando that had been rounding the cabin's corner in an attempt to ambush them, forced to take cover as another gunman followed suit. He went to reload his carbine, only to halt as the crunching leaves told him the man was much closer than expected. He waited until the footfalls had grown louder and launched himself around the corner, catching the masked man in the gut with the rifle's butt and then bringing it down onto his back as he buckled forward. There was no time to tell if he had killed the man or simply knocked him unconscious, he needed to catch up to the others.

Not too far ahead the four officers ran along the winding dirt trail pumping their legs as fast as they could. It was an arduous task that left them stumbling over rocks and fallen branches, including a low hanging bough that scratched Angela across the face and left her crying out in pain. The darkness didn't help matters either as they found themselves jumping at every shadow, not knowing whether it was just their imagination playing tricks on them, or if it really was one of those black-masked, red-eyed freaks ready to gun them down.

"Just keep running," Mike shouted from the front, raising his rifle towards what he perceived to be another threat, only to find it a some harmless tree trunk that had been splintered from the top long ago.

Jake struggled to keep up to the group, running on rubbery legs with a load that felt ten times heavier than it truly was thanks to the fatigue. He could hear the crunching of the dead leaves and twigs telling him those commandos were rapidly closing in and he wanted so desperately to turn around and fire upon them, but didn't want to risk what kind of injury he would likely face through such rash movements.

Instead all he could do was keep running along a twisting and turning trail, wanting to double over and vomit, but knowing such an action would only leave him open to the business end of a few bullets.

He nearly collided with Marin, who had sidestepped expecting his companion to bump into him, only to find himself tripping over the jagged tip of a fallen branch and screaming out in pain.

"Robbie!" Angela shouted and rushed back to the fallen S.T.A.R.S. operative's aid and quickly lifting him into a sitting position, just as Jake threw himself in front of them.

"Stay down," he ordered and fired a few Frag-12 rounds down the trail behind them, taking down one of the commandos and ripping another's leg wide open, leaving him shrieking in agony. Hearing no more footsteps he turned and looked down to see Angela examining the officer's leg with her flashlight. The branch had ripped through his pant leg and blood was seeping out from underneath.

Angela's breathing hastened as she searched around for something to press against his fresh wound. "C'mon, there has to be something I can use or else you're going to bleed to death!"

The detective was silenced by a can of first-aid spray being shoved in front of her and looked up to see Jake standing over her. She stared quietly towards him, flabbergasted by his sudden kind gesture, only accepting when Robbie clamped down on her arm. Pulling off the cap, she sprayed the fresh wound until she was certain there was enough to clot the wound.

"Alright, that's good enough," Robbie grunted and loosened his grip on her arm, "Don't worry about me. Just catch up to Mike and Sara!" he ordered.

"But your leg," Detective Cataldo protested, "It could be broken."

"I'll worry about that later," the S.T.A.R.S. officer shot back and forcefully bent his right leg to make sure it wasn't broken. "If it's not broke I can keep moving. I'm not going to let some damn scratch slow me down, especially here. Now for God's sake just catch up to the others!"

Angela opened her mouth to speak, only to be halted by Jake placing a hand in front of her.

"Do what he says," the hitman sternly ordered, "I'll help him!"

Grabbing the downed officer's arm he wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled the man back to his feet.

"Think you'll make it?" he whispered to Marin.

"Yes…thank you," the officer said tugging on his helper's arm to signal he was ready. Jake took one last look over his shoulder to make sure there were no more commandos chasing after them, still hearing the pained cries of that dying commando from the distance.

"Alright, we're off," he told the officer and began to drag him along.

Up ahead Mike Forrester swatted more jagged branches away attempting to carve a safe path for his comrades, but was encountering more obstacles than expected and could feel the warm, coppery blood spilling down his face. He looked over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure his teammate Sara Quigley was still there, hobbling after him. The usually speedy marksman deliberately slowed his pace so she could keep up, not wanting to make it easy for any of those sick bastards who could still be lurking around; he knew she was a piss poor fighter and if one of those freaks had gotten their hands on her it would be all over.

Moving at a slower pace was very nerve wracking for him, knowing it upped the chances of that one fatal bullet finding its way to him, but at the same time it was critical he ensure his teammates were taken care of. Robbie and Sara were all he had left following the debacle that was Springvale, yet juggled that with knowing he had to keep himself alive to ensure their safety.

"Mike, do you see anything?" Angela called out before looking over her shoulder towards the two men lagging behind.

"Not yet-" the marksman called back before three loud pops resounded, forcing him to the ground.

"Mike!" Sara screamed.

Jake watched the officer fall and dove to the ground dragging Marin with him. "Shit, more of them," he hissed trying to keep Robbie's head low despite his protests.

"But we've gotta help him!" the wounded operative exclaimed flailing his arms about, determined not to lose the teammate whom he revered as a brother.

"Keep your head down," Jake grunted while struggling with the wounded man. He looked ahead to see the officer moving and reaching for his rifle, breathing a sigh of relief, "Just stay here and stay down," he ordered releasing his grip on the S.T.A.R.S. operative and crawling towards the others.

Angela threw herself behind a tree and peeked around to see Mike was still alive and scrambling for cover within the tall grass outlining the crude trail and then she saw the rustling grass behind her to tell her of Sara's whereabouts, relieved both of them were out of sight.

But still, it freaked her out not being able to see where her attacker was. For all she knew they could be surrounded, much like they were back at the cabin.

"_At least you knew when those zombies were nearby," _she told herself, peeking around the trunk and squinting her eyes into the darkness, the goose bumps hard as rocks. She knew they were nearby and she could feel the tear creeping from the corner of her eye, feeling helpless and thinking of how she was failing everybody who died around her in Springvale.

She wanted desperately to sink to her knees in defeat and put the gun in her mouth, not wanting to give those faceless bastards the pleasure of finishing the job.

"Tony…" she muttered the name of her lost brother, another failure tallied to her list.

A sudden flash of black interrupted her sulking and her rattled nerves left her raising her Desert Eagle, firing her remaining rounds towards the blur, a move for which she mentally cursed herself.

Another torrent of gunfire rang out from multiple weapons, forcing her into a slinking position and showering her with clumps of dirt and jagged shards of bark. Out of desperation she withdrew her Beretta and fired a few more rounds before nearly having her forearm blown off. It was another foolish rookie mistake, adding to her predicament as she drew the gunfire right to her.

A loud rattle made her jump and she looked down to see Jake Cavanaugh crawling on his stomach, firing through the tall grass at her attackers.

He couldn't be certain due to the tall grass obstructing his view, but the hitman could tell for sure his bullets had connected with one target, watching the black blur slump to the ground, unable to tell if he was alive or dead.

It didn't matter to him; right now Jake's number one priority was to buy a few spare seconds for his companions to regain their footing for a counterattack. He pulled himself a little further and fired another volley before he was forced to reload, rolling onto his side and fishing for a magazine.

"You alright?" he asked Angela, looking into her misty eyes. Physically she looked fine aside from a few cuts and bumps, but emotionally she was a different story. It was a dumb question at best and he returned his attention to the attackers, preparing to fire just as there were two loud reports from across the path followed by the cries of two injured men.

He looked over to see the Barrett's smoking barrel peeking through the tall grass, letting him know Mike had reached safety. Rustling came from behind him and he could see the slender hand of Sara Quigley reaching towards him, followed by her head, nodding quietly for her to stay down. He didn't know what happened to Robbie, but was hopeful the injured officer had stayed back as ordered.

Jake pulled himself through another clump of yellowed grass, squinting his eyes for any signs of movement. He was nearly blind without the thermal goggles and again cursed silently, wishing Commander Karkian was here so he could give him another haymaker for his troubles, the man now being nothing more than a pile of charred meat did little to assuage his urge.

High-powered rounds knifed through the air just inches above his head, close enough the hitman could feel his dampened hair ruffled by the volley's wind, forcing him to a halt. There was another loud boom from behind him letting him know that Forrester was attempting to provide cover and then an accompanying rattle sounding like it was coming from Sara's rifle, followed by another loud boom from the Barrett that ended with Mike hitting an enemy gunman, as evidenced by a thud and the snapping of branches.

There was another rattle of gunfire and this time more than one shadowy figure stepped out from their hiding spot, four men methodically marching towards them with their triggers depressed. Jake went to return fire, but halted when he noticed two more of those red-eyed freaks marching from down the trail straight ahead.

A sudden burst of gunfire came from behind as Robbie Marin pushed himself back to his feet in a fraught attempt to assist his companions, only to find himself forced back to the ground just as quickly as he had risen.

"We've gotta fucking move before we run outta ammo," Jake said to Angela and Sara as he looked upward towards a nearby ledge and noticed the large boulders and the smaller jagged rocks which held them back, but not by much.

"_Hopefully I can chip them and send them falling onto those bastards," _the hitman told himself reaching for the USAS-12 and loading some spare shells into its drum.

"Now this is the part where I say 'See you in Hell,'" Jake whispered taking aim and firing a few shells towards the jagged rocks, his supposed counter attack leaving the commandos at bay. He couldn't see the results of his handiwork, but could hear the loud chipping to let him know he was gaining ground with his personal objective. It was after three more successive shots there was a loud rumble coming from above and the commandos looked up to see the boulders tumbling down upon them.

"Take cover!" one of the commandos called out just as one of his men was crushed by a falling boulder.

The trap had not succeeded in killing any of the other commandos, but had created discord among the masked attackers and sent them fleeing in different directions, leaving them open to be cut down by a few well-placed shots from Mike and some flesh-tearing explosive rounds from Jake's assault shotgun.

"C'mon, we've gotta move!" Mike shouted slinging the Barrett around his shoulder and wasting no time making his way around the rocky obstruction with his rifle in hand.

"No, Mike hold up!" Robbie shouted to his teammate as the marksman disappeared around the rocks, followed by another ear-splitting rattle.

"Mike!" Robbie screamed, needing to be held back by Sara and Angela, "Let me go! We have to help him!"

"But you'll get shot!" Angela protested while fighting with the injured field scout.

Jake ignored the scuffle behind him and climbed over the rocks and then took cover as he listened to the high-powered rounds pinging off the large rock before him. He peered around the rock and managed to get a peek at Mike exchanging gunfire with the commandos, managing to drop two men before his rifle clicked empty. Before he could even think of taking cover a round found its way through the marksman's thigh in a spray of crimson, followed by another tearing through his hip just beneath his tactical vest.

Officer Forrester had conveniently fallen behind one of the rocks which he aspired to take cover, yet the man was in dire agony and his screams would draw the remaining commandos to him if action wasn't taken soon.

Given a second wind by the pained cries of his wounded colleague, Robbie eventually managed to fight the two women off him and hobbled over to take a position next to the hitman, who motioned towards him threateningly with his assault shotgun to deter him from advancing.

"I've gotta help my friend!" the field scout declared ready to raise his MP5 while fighting off fresh waves of soreness.

The guy had guts he had to give him that, more guts than he did brains, sadly. He was a wannabe hero and oftentimes, it was the hero who died trying to save someone.

"Not in your sorry state you're not," Angela said inserting herself between the two men, "You're staying back."

"But we can't leave a man behind! We just can't!" Robbie protested, "That's not the S.T.A.R.S. way!"

Jake could understand where he was coming from. Leaving a man behind was never an option, not even for a hardened criminal like himself. Whether the man was dead or alive he would need to be collected, at least to bring closure to his colleagues and loved ones. He remembered the firsthand accounts Jill had told him during her visit to the Spencer Estate and about all of her teammates that had perished on that night. Due to the circumstances they had been unable to collect their bodies and instead could only bury their badges and their weapons.

It had been like that for Jake when his buddies Scotty and Monk were vaporized by that car bomb left by a Romanenko saboteur.

There wasn't enough left of either man to even fill a matchbox and so they had to make due with what remained. In Scotty's case it was the warped remnants of a gold chain carrying a fragment of the actual Blarney Stone passed down through the generations ever since his great-great-grandfather emigrated from Ireland. It was always his tradition to kiss the fragment before heading into battle, something which his colleagues attributed to him 'spending more time bullshitting than shooting' when involved in a battle.

In Monk's case, it was the set of gold-plated brass knuckles with his nickname engraved into the surface, something he had used to rough many a man up, wanting them to know who was blackening their eyes, breaking their nose or knocking their teeth out.

There had been an elaborate ceremony in which both men's personal effects were buried, including having a bagpiper on hand to play 'Amazing Grace,' quite the irony given the nature of his organization's work.

"We're gonna have to get him to safety somehow," Sara piped up, sapping the hired gun from his thoughts as she looked over to both him and Angela, "Do you think you could get to him?"

Angela quietly surveyed the scene before replying, "I won't lie, it's gonna be a major risk. Those bastards have us outgunned a hundred to one."

"Gonna have to be a snatch and grab," Jake added, watching as the wounded marksman struggled to crawl on his belly behind what little cover he was given.

"And you're gonna have to do it fast," Robbie said taking notice of more than one pair of glowing red eyes.

"Think Angela," he heard the detective mutter to herself when she took notice of the stun grenades both S.T.A.R.S. officers carried, "I'm gonna need those flashbangs."

Without hesitation Robbie and Sara both unclipped their non-lethal explosives and handed them to the detective.

"I'll need to borrow that too," Angela said motioning towards the L85A2, which Sara offered with an eager nod, before turning to face Jake, the hitman's dark eyebrows angling downward, creating the grim, vampiric aura that made it difficult to look him directly in the eye.

"Looks like it's gonna be just you and me," the hired gun muttered.

"Don't get too comfortable Cavanaugh," Angela snapped, "When this is all over with, don't think this will change anything between us."

"_What the fuck are you talking about lady? I didn't even know who the hell you were before you stuck that gun in my face," _Jake asked himself, recalling she had mentioned something about him killing her brother, yet unable to pinpoint where she could be coming from, having killed plenty of people in the past and likely having all sorts of unfamiliar folks wanting his head on a pike.

For the time being the vengeful detective forgot about him, kneeling down and readying the stun grenades before motioning him down to a knee.

"Alright, we're gonna have to be in and out. I'll go first. I'll toss my flashbangs and then make my way over to Mike. After I'm through, you cover me. Hopefully we can grab him and then get back here," Angela explained.

"_First she's threatening me and now she's ordering me around, quite the shift in moods," _Jake thought to himself watching as the detective readied a stun grenade and got into position.

"On 3…2...1," Angela said pulling the pin and chucking it over the rock formation.

There was a deafening boom, followed by the panicked cries of Mike and the commandos stalking towards him, "Now!"

Angela pulled herself over the rock formation and fired a burst into a stunned trooper and crippling the arm of a man who had been packing an assault shotgun before shooting out both his knees from below him. She then pulled out another flashbang and chucked it towards two other men who were still reeling from the first blast, raising her rifle and cutting down both.

Jake pulled himself over the formation and was quick to cover the detective, dropping one of the stunned troopers with a Frag-12 round to the face, blowing the man's face to bits beneath his gasmask and sending his splintered helmet airborne.

Nearby another commando had overheard the shot and attempted to steady himself so he could reach for his submachine gun, but Jake was on him and swung his assault shotgun upward into the man's chin, kicking his leg out from underneath him and leaving him open for an explosive round to the face.

With those two men out of the way another commando stumbled into sight, cut down by two shots to the chest. A fourth man would soon follow, by now having regained his bearings and aiming his assault rifle straight for the hitman's chest, but Jake proved to be quicker and fired a Frag-12 round into the man's knee cap, sending him collapsing to the ground, finished off as the hitman leapt into the air and brought all his weight down into a stomp directed at the man's neck, snapping his spinal cord.

"Die you bastard!" a voice called out from behind as another masked trooper attempted to jump Jake from behind and smack him in the back of the head with the stock of his submachine gun, but Jake twirled his body and managed to get behind the man, kicking out his knee from behind and forcing him to kneel, then leaning forward and wrapping his arm around the man's neck as he remained face up, leaning backwards and breaking his neck.

With another burst of her rifle a black-clad assassin had fallen and Angela Cataldo found herself getting closer to her injured comrade, seeing the area of matted grass where the S.T.A.R.S. agent crawled to. Leaping over a dead commando she then threw herself to the ground next to him.

"You alright?" she asked looking over towards the wounded marksman, his skin now pale and clammy.

"What do you think? I just got shot! I feel like shit," Mike Forrester grunted rolling onto his side, his pants colored crimson by the blood oozing through his fingers as he tried applying pressure to his wounds.

The chatter of automatic fire came from nearby followed by the booms of an automatic shotgun and the duo jumped as a commando fell over dead before them, tendrils of smoke rising from three fresh holes in his chest.

"I hate to interrupt your little coffee clutch, but I think it's time we get the hell outta here," Jake Cavanaugh shouted before returning fire with another trooper.

"Then help me damn it," Angela Cataldo snapped, just as another gun chattered with life and she looked over to see Robbie Marin attempting to cover them with his MP5, successfully dropping one trooper and wounding another with a volley that traveled up his leg, leaving him to be finished off by the hitman.

With the field scout covering them, the detective pulled out another stun grenade and chucked it over her shoulder in case any of those troopers remained. Jake then reached down to take the wounded Mike beneath one of his arms while Angela wrapped his other around her shoulders and they forcefully dragged him to safety, the hired gun stopping to provide cover as Robbie and Sara helped the wounded marksman over the rock formation.

"Shit, there's more of those bastards. We've gotta move," Jake said slinging the shotgun over his shoulder and withdrawing the M4A1, inserting a fresh clip as he spotted more shadowy figures approaching.

"Cover us," Angela ordered as she lent her shoulder for Mike to recline on while Robbie and Sara took a position directly behind them.

"Whatever you say," the hitman muttered, leaving his companions get a considerable distance ahead of him before he began chasing after them, whirling around in a 180 motion with his rifle raised before turning to follow after them.

"Do you see anything up ahead?" Robbie called out as he and Sara followed behind Angela and his wounded friend, scoping out their left flank with his MP5 while the medic covered the right.

"Not yet-," the detective called back when a bright light suddenly blinded her and she skidded to a sudden halt, nearly toppling over with Mike's added weight. It would take the force of Robbie and Sara simultaneously colliding with her from behind to send them all tumbling down like dominoes.

"What the hell gives?" Robbie spat clambering out from beneath his injured colleague and frantically patting the ground for his MP5. His fingers knifed their way through the dead leaves and clumps of dug up dirt before finally making their way to the gun's cool metal surface. Gripping the handle, his efforts were halted as a heavy boot found its way onto his hand and the barrel of a rifle was jabbed into the back of his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, princess," a voice boomed from above.

"Looks like we've got some stragglers," another voice called from ahead.

Angela was forced to raise her hand in front of her to block out the floodlight and beneath her hand she found they had happened across what appeared to be a roadblock of sorts.

There were two jet black M923 military transport trucks with the large floodlight positioned between them and beneath the light was a mounted machinegun.

"Heh, you think we'd let you get away that easy? Huh? Get up! On your feet!" a mocking voice shouted.

"You heard the man, get on your feet bitch!" another trooper called out and before she knew it, the detective was forcibly lifted to her feet along with the three S.T.A.R.S. members.

"You think you've found him?" an authoritative voice called from the back.

"No sir, you think they might be survivors of the Springvale outbreak?" a trooper asked as a taller man strode towards them.

The man in charge didn't answer, instead making his way over to Mike and grabbing him by the arm, forcefully turning his shoulder towards him so he could examine the patch on the marksman's undershirt, "A S.T.A.R.S. member, huh? Out here in the middle of nowhere. After what the boss said, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Doesn't matter, you're just going to end up like the others."

The nameless squad leader turned towards a trooper positioned near the machinegun emplacement, "Get the gun ready and make sure you don't leave much behind, less to bury."

"Yes sir!" the trooper nodded.

Angela couldn't believe it. After everything she had endured over the past few days this was how things were going to end. She was going to find herself torn to shreds and then buried in a shallow grave where it was unlikely she would ever be discovered.

"_All that hell for nothing," _she thought to herself, her eyes squeezing shut so hard her temples ached, her throat contracting, her jaw stiff as a board, a fresh ball of ice forming in her stomach. She wanted so desperately to lash out at the gunner before he could reduce her and her colleagues to bloody strips, tear her way through the other red-eyed freaks present, abominations that possessed human voices and referred to each other as if they were addressing other everyday people, yet they were anything but.

To her, they were monsters disguised as human beings, their black combat gear and the artificial red glow of their thermal goggles making them look like the demons straight out of her childhood nightmares. Their barbarism added to the concept, having watched them gun down defenseless survivors back when she was hiding from them in Springvale, not something a normal human could be capable of.

And now here she was along with three people who barely survived the nightmare themselves, all going to die in the exact same manner.

"Wait a minute, order your man to stand down Captain," a feminine voice possessed traces of an Afrikaans accent called out.

Angela's eyes shot open and she found another woman walking towards her with purpose. This mystery lady was clad in a skintight black outfit similar to those worn by her male counterparts, albeit with a strange blue-tinted gasmask that showed off the upper half of her face beneath its glowing veneer, a look of rage in her eyes. She had recently seen battle, her filthy outfit sporting numerous tears and sullied bandages covering her left thigh and right forearm.

The female operative shot her hand out grabbing the detective by the chin and forcing her to look directly into her hate-filled eyes.

"I recognize you, you're the cunt from the research facility who murdered three of my best people," the woman said before drawing her hand back and delivering a forceful backhand that knocked the detective to the ground. The S.T.A.R.S. members flinched wanting to jump to her rescue, only to be halted by the other guns trained on them.

Huffing deeply the masked woman withdrew her FN P90 and trained it upon the fallen detective, "I want her all for myself!"

Indeed Angela Cataldo was familiar with the mysterious woman or 'Arachne' as she overheard her subordinates calling her, someone who had given her much trouble during her visit to the research facility. She thought she had killed the bitch after locking her in that chamber with that mutated squid, but somehow here she was with a gun pointed at her.

"Out of all my kills, this is going to be the sweetest," Arachne hissed, madness clouding her eyes.

Unknown to the commandos, Jake Cavanaugh was still nearby.

Having noticed the floodlight, yet far enough away to avoid being blinded by its ray, the hired gun retreated into the brush surrounding the crude trail and was now silently creeping along until he got closer and knelt down, crawling along on his belly until he came to another rock formation sturdy enough for him to climb and position his rifle.

The four officers were held at gunpoint and unceremoniously stripped of their weapons by more of those commandos; Angela in particular was in the midst of being knocked to the ground by some strawberry blonde-haired woman wearing a strange glowing blue mask who then drew an FN P90 on her while the three unarmed S.T.A.R.S. members were forced to watch helplessly, knowing they would be cut down the second they attempted to reach for the guns at their feet.

In addition to the woman, there were six other commandos present at the roadblock, one of whom was referred to as 'Captain,' and five additional troopers making their way along the trail wound soon join them. Those were the men the hitman had spotted after rescuing Mike.

"_Twelve bogeys altogether," _Jake told himself taking a firing position and switching his aim back and forth between his targets, trying to decide which one posed the biggest threat and who should be dealt with first.

There was the blue-masked woman holding Angela at gunpoint, then there was the 'Captain,' who had his assault shogun leveled at Mike's torso, ready to disembowel the already injured marksman without second thought, then there was the guy manning the machinegun emplacement who could shred through the quartet in less than the amount of time it would take him to blink, then there was that punk who was having his fun pushing Robbie around, then you had the guys arriving and wasting no time jabbing their rifle barrels into the Eagle Point trio's backs. All were armed and dangerous, but he could only shoot one at a time.

It was a Catch-22 for the hired gun.

Whoever he hit first would surely kill the man, but his shot would launch the man's buddies into a wild frenzy and leave them firing at everything in sight. Their first targets would most likely be the battered officers, leaving their blood on his hands. He mentally cursed himself a million times over for having lost his silencer.

Never once did Jake Cavanaugh think he would live to see the day where he actually gave a rat's ass about a police officer's well-being, it was as if Hell had frozen over and pigs were flying out the Devil's ass.

But the people holding them at gunpoint were just as bad and he knew he needed to take the shot fast or else someone was going to die.

Shifting his aim towards the floodlight he fired a lone round into its glass surface, shrouding the entire area in darkness.

"What the hell was that?" the Captain shouted and before he knew it, his machine gunner was slumping over his emplacement with a second blast having obliterated his face.

Two loud shots rang out and the once cocky commandos fell into disarray, shouting panicked to one another.

Angela looked up to see Arachne's attention diverted towards the now deceased gunner, giving her the precious opening she needed to reach for her Beretta and fire three rounds into the woman's face, ending her long-running menace.

"Bitch," the detective spat before reaching for her FN P90.

Taking advantage of the sudden distraction, Robbie was able to drive his fist into his antagonist's face and grab the barrel of the man's rifle, pulling him forward and sending him flying into the trooper that had shoved his own rifle barrel into his back. With both men temporarily incapacitated, he swiftly reached down for his MP5 and fired a burst that cut both masked men down simultaneously.

Pivoting on his good leg, Mike launched himself at the man in front of him, knocking the assault shotgun from his hands as he landed on top of him. With a roar of rage the marksman began raining fists down upon the tall man, continuing until the masked man finally managed to bring a forearm up and plant it beneath his chin while placing his other hand on the side of his face, trying to twist his head at an awkward angle.

Mike clamped his own hands down on the commando's and fought to keep his neck from being snapped, doing what he could to ignore the shockwaves of pain traveling down his leg as he struggled to keep the man pinned to the ground.

Clamping down on the man's wrist, he forcefully managed to bend the man's hand backward and shot his hand over to the knife kept in a holster over his left pectoral, pulling the blade out and jamming it upward into the forearm beneath his neck. The man shrieked in pain and Mike slashed his blade downward into the trooper's exposed neck, taking down another terror.

Jake watched from his perch as a few of the commandos had fallen and he zoomed in on two guys ready to pounce Robbie from behind, cutting both of them down in a merciless volley before the field scout became aware of the horrors creeping up behind him and shooting down a man ready to put a bullet in Sara's head.

Nearby Angela Cataldo raised her newly-acquired submachine gun to shoulder level and took down a commando who had been preoccupied with locating the unseen attacker firing upon them and then there came a combined assault from her left as Mike recovered his SIG 556 and was teaming up with Robbie to drop two more of the red-eyed terrors and she would assist them in dropping another.

Only one man was left standing, shaking his head in disbelief as he slowly backed away from the quartet of victorious officers, his deep, hurried breaths reverberating along the otherwise desolate trail. Just like that the odds had turned against him and he knew the battle was lost.

Before he could turn around to run away, the commando's head was lopped from his shoulders.

"About time you showed up," Mike grunted as Jake's katana glimmered under the moonlight.

"I took the scenic route," the hitman sarcastically retorted ripping a shred from the dead man's uniform and using it to wipe the blood from his blade.

The deceased captain's radio suddenly crackled with life and Detective Cataldo knelt down to listen.

"_Come in Captain Muldoon! Do you copy? We have been given orders to abort the mission! Repeat, we have been given orders to abort the mission! We've already lost too many men and authorities are closing in on our location. Get whatever you need and get the hell outta there!" _the voice called out, the sounds of men rushing back and forth and vehicles starting up in the background, ending with a loud honk before the transmission cut out.

"Sounds like we need to make ourselves scarce," Jake replied holstering his sword.

"Well we're not splitting up," Mike was quick to point out while using his rifle as a crutch, "We're all in this together."

"Don't think I'm letting you out of my sight for one second," Angela said training the FN P90 on the hired gun, "You and I are going to have a nice long chat when we're through with this."

"Really, last I heard you wanted to put a bullet in my skull," Jake countered.

"People, people relax!" Sara Quigley shouted stepping in to defuse a potentially volatile situation, "We know you have your issues, but right now we need to focus on getting out of here. We've got some people here who need serious medical attention or else they won't be surviving the night. Whatever fight to the death you're planning out is gonna have to wait."

Jake and Angela both looked to the normally placid medic before looking back to each other and with a collective nod slowly lowered their weapons. The hitman then turned his attention towards the transport trucks and then over to the S.T.A.R.S. members, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Hell yeah, there's no way in hell I'm gonna be able to cover much ground on this leg. I say we take whatever we can while we've got the opportunity," Mike responded.

"No way can I disagree with you on that old buddy," Robbie said patting his friend on the shoulder before wrapping his arm around him and leading him towards the transport truck's open cargo area.

With the three Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. members making their way towards the cargo space Jake looked back over to Angela.

"I'll drive," the detective said gesturing towards the black truck with her submachine gun, "You try anything funny, don't think for one second I won't change my mind about putting that bullet in your skull. Now come along."

Jake had another wisecrack prepared, but for once held it back not wanting to create any further drama.

Following closely behind he grabbed the pull bar and lifted himself into the cab's passenger seat and strapped himself in, looking into the rear window to see both Mike and Robbie seated on a wooden bench waiting to be treated by Sara, both men laughing amongst themselves as best friends did through situations like this.

Angela started the truck up and cautiously backed out of the entranceway before easing it onto the wider dirt road and shifting the truck into drive.

Jake sat quietly in his seat, thankful to be able to sit back and stretch out his aching legs, his feet likely having blisters on top of blisters after having spent an entire week running from all sorts of manmade abominations. Were there more of those things lurking out in the woods? He wouldn't doubt it one bit, but right now he had to focus on regaining his lost energy.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the tattered piece of fabric that had once been a part of his favorite t-shirt, the elaborate red dragon design still visible through the layers of filth.

The image remained as alluring to him as it had been when he first happened across the t-shirt four years earlier, remembering the awe felt when he saw it for the very first time, as if the artist could somehow see inside his head and was able to copy down every intimate detail of the red dragon. It had been too surreal for the young hired gun.

"_And I wonder if it truly is capable of protecting me as long as I hold onto it," _he thought to himself, remembering the talisman Yoko Suzuki carried and how nothing bad ever seemed to happen as long as it remained on her. _"Guess I'll have to hold onto you for a _long_ time," _he told himself, stuffing the fabric back into his pocket and looking over to Angela.

The detective sensed his gaze upon her, yet kept her eyes focused on the road ahead, having remained silent the entire time.

Normally when you save somebody they thank you over and over again, but not Detective Cataldo, her silence telling him she wasn't going to be ready to go out for a beer with him once they returned to civilization.

"_She says I killed her brother," _he thought to himself, again scanning her features for any signs of familiarity. _"Where the hell would she know me from?" _he asked himself, then wondering if the name 'Cataldo' would ring a bell.

"_I want to say that it sounds familiar," _Jake told himself, shutting his eyes and tilting his head backward as his mind went back in time.

He snapped his fingers and shot his eyes open when it finally came to him, only to find the detective staring at him intently.

Jake looked away to the forest at his right, knowing she wouldn't buy any kind of apology for his weird action, let alone anything else he would probably apologize to her for.

"You'd better not be plotting something Cavanaugh," Angela hissed, slackening her right hand's grip on the wheel, ready to reach for her Beretta if necessary.

"Don't worry I'm not…sheesh!" Jake said raising his hands defensively, suddenly pointing ahead of them, "Just focus on the road!"

Angela diverted her attention back to the road to see she was coming dangerously close to a bend on the mountain trail with only a weathered wooden fence to guard a motorist from falling to their death.

Cursing her lapse in judgment she slammed her foot down on the brake and sent the truck jolting forward violently, a loud thud coming from behind her.

"What the hell's going on up there?" Mike Forrester called out from the back.

"Never mind," Angela shouted returning her attention to the road and grabbing onto the steering wheel, "I just thought I saw something," she muttered sheepishly, knowing her colleagues likely hadn't heard the last part.

"I think you'd better focus on getting us out of here," Jake spoke up next to her.

"And I think you'd better focus on shutting the fuck up," the detective shot back.

"Not in the mood for early morning banter, huh?" the hitman chuckled, "Oh well, have it your way."

Angela said nothing in reply, continuing along wherever the trail would take them.

XXX

Author's Note: For those of you familiar with the game who would be left wondering, the character Arachne is indeed inspired by Lupo from "Operation: Raccoon City," but needed to get that out of the way just so you will know that they are two different people.

As my beta reader Crow T. R0bot pointed out, I know it probably seems a little anticlimactic in how I suddenly introduce her from out of the blue and then Angela just as easily introduces her face to a few bullets, but I promise that I will flesh her character out more in a spinoff title and provide that needed buildup that will have you cheering for Angela to put those bullets in her face.

The move which Jake finishes that one commando off with (the guy who screams "Die you bastard!") is supposed to be the 'Dragon Sleeper Neck Breaker' which Piers Nivans uses as one of his contextual attacks in RE6. I've seen Ultimo Dragon use that as a finishing move on television and always thought it was such an awesome looking submission hold, except in this case it wasn't Jake's goal to make the guy tap out so he could take home the world championship.

At this point it's safe to say I have maybe 6 or 7 additional chapters following this one and I'm eager to finally be on the home stretch of things and once again I want to give a special thanks to anybody who has been with my weirdo ass all this long.

As always, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	57. Ch 56: To Where the Skies Are Blue

Author's Note: The title of this chapter is inspired by the song of the same name by a German melodic death metal group called Deadlock from their album "Wolves."

Chapter 56: To Where the Skies Are Blue

**October 1, 1998**

A new day greeted the weary survivors, the sun rising over yonder from behind the picturesque mountains to encompass the sparkling lakes and lush forests, the latter now painted various shades in the early autumn.

The sight was breathtaking to Jake Cavanaugh, who stared in childish awe, wishing he could be seeing it under different circumstances.

_"It's just like Fairytale Range," _he told himself, referring to a secluded corner of land outside Somerset known as such for its idyllic, nearly mythical splendor, a place he visited often to escape the troubles of his everyday life. The hired gun honestly thought he would never see such a sight ever again after he was forced to skip town, but he was glad to be proven wrong and tried to take in every ounce of it as he rode along the highway.

Angela Cataldo sat in the driver's seat next to him, having remained silent the entire drive. With as testy as she's been, he knew it would be wise to avoid instigating any form of conversation. Every now and then he would peek over his shoulder into the cargo area behind them, seeing the surviving Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. members just as they were left. Mike and Robbie were both trying to get some sleep, trying to make the most of their uncomfortable settings while Sara looked to be just looking off to the side.

_"Probably the most normal things have been for them over the past few days," _Jake told himself as he returned his gaze out the window to his right and took in the clear blue sky above.

It was plain, yet beautiful at the same time.

Finally he could look up and see a skyline not obstructed by pillars of black smoke or the burning buildings that served as their source, nor were there any hostile creatures circling about looking for their next target to swoop down upon. It was as clear as any daytime sky could be and it left the hitman finally able to let out a deep sigh of relief. He didn't know what possessed him, but he found himself loosening the grip on his sidearm, feeling safe.

_"About as safe as one can be when you're sitting next to some random chick who was out to kill you just hours earlier," _he told himself, looking to Detective Cataldo from the corner of his eye, the woman still focused on the stretch of road ahead.

The area was still devoid of life, yet it didn't faze him in the same manner as it had back in Raccoon and later Springvale. He felt the comfortable sense of solitude that always came with a peaceful commute along a vacant pastoral road, a simple joy he thought he would never again get to enjoy after all the shit he went through.

_"And I'd better enjoy every second while I'm able to," _Jake told himself, afraid to blink. When his eyes flickered he was relieved to see the harmonious milieu still there, taken from his euphoric mindset as the truck slowed down.

He looked over to see Angela peering intently towards a road sign with the names of three different communities listed, bringing the truck to a halt as she read the names aloud.

"Maple is five miles away, Balsam Springs is twelve and Wolf Creek is twenty-one," she said before stepping on the gas, "We're gonna have to stop by Maple, this baby's nearly out of juice."

It was then cold hard reality slapped Jake Cavanaugh in the face and he found himself leaning forward reflexively reaching for his sidearm.

"You think it'll be safe there?" he asked, nearly getting in the woman's face. He then looked around to make sure there were no possible threats lurking about as the open cliff side once again became forest, the previous conflicts fresh in his mind.

Angela looked back to him and stared into his eyes before returning her gaze to the road ahead, "I honestly don't know, but if we're low on gas we're not gonna have much choice. If the place is ransacked we're gonna have to find ourselves a different means of transportation and some gas to go with it."

The tranquility Jake felt had been shattered into a million pieces and he again found himself skittish, looking out the windows and wondering if there was going to be a Licker, Hunter or some other freak waiting for them the second they were forced to stop.

_"Fucking hell, get a goddamned grip on yourself Cavanaugh," _his mind screamed and his physical body complying, lurching him to a standstill with his hands gripping his knees and his head locked forward, his eyes not processing all the details emerging in the encroaching daylight. He took a few deep breaths and gradually slowed his pulse before speaking up.

"And what if it's not overrun?" he asked looking down to his tattered clothing, knowing the five filthy, malnourished survivors would stick out like a sore thumb, provided it was a sleepy enough community where most of the residents would still be in bed at this time of day.

"We still won't have much choice," Angela replied, her tone making her sound as if she could read his mind.

"Well just saying, we look like a bunch of concentration camp escapees, doesn't guarantee they're gonna be waiting for us with warm blankets and cocoa. Who knows, the second someone spots us they might go home running for their guns. Even if we're out in the middle of nowhere, no doubt there's still gonna be somebody out there with access to a radio and hearing reports of 'crazy-looking people' out and running around," the hitman answered.

Angela swallowed hard at the possibility, but forced herself to retain control and shot him a sharp glance mentally asking him, _"Did you really just have to say that?"_

"I don't know what else we're going to do, but we won't know until we find out for ourselves," the detective shot back, "If we have to dive headfirst into another hellhole, so be it. As long as I know what we're up against," she replied as they passed a small nondescript house surrounded by trees from all sides. There were two cars parked in the paved driveway and lights burning from within, but other than that there was nothing amiss.

"We're gonna have to ditch the truck before we get into town. Don't wanna risk frightening any locals," Angela added as they drove past another two story building, this one made of log and with a hokey wood carving of a bear holding up a sign identifying the residence as belonging to _'The Graffs,' _knowing the jet black military-style transport truck would risk drawing unwanted attention.

Jake said nothing as they continued down the road, soon passing a few other small houses, followed by a small farm with several still-living cattle in the enclosure, a rock quarry and a feed mill before spotting a sign that said _'Welcome to Maple, Population 809.'_

Having reached the village limits, Angela began looking around for a place where she could park the transport truck without drawing attention in case there were survivors present; eventually finding what appeared to be an abandoned metal garage.

"When we exit the vehicle I want you in front of me at all times, got it?" the detective spoke as she pulled onto the gravel driveway and alongside the building, "You try running, don't think for one second I won't use you for target practice."

"Sheesh, how many times do you think you have to threaten me?" Jake sighed irritably, "It's obvious you hate my guts. To be honest, I'm not very fond of you either, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Angela slammed on the brake hard, again jolting the truck forward and nearly sending the hitman flying face first into the dashboard, "Because I know you're _not_ going to listen if I ask nicely."

"Well I'm here and you've got the truck in park, have I tried running away yet?" Jake asked, raising his hands and mockingly wiggling his fingers at her.

"Just shut the fuck up," Angela snapped shifting the truck into park and turning the ignition, grabbing the FN P90 and pointing it towards the hired gun, "Now move."

Shaking his head Jake opened his door and made his way outside, listening to the sound of another pair of feet hitting the gravel from behind.

"Where are we now?" Robbie Marin asked, placing a hand over his eyes to block out the morning sunlight's bright rays.

"Maple," came the answer from Angela, the detective making her way around to help with the others, her and Jake both reaching up to help with Mike before the hitman eased Sara down to the ground. With their equipment gathered, the quintet made their way over to observe the seemingly quaint hamlet in the distance.

"You think it's safe?" Sara asked, feeling uneasy when she heard a dog barking in the distance, not knowing whether it was going to be some warm, cuddly little pooch or another demonic abomination looking to tear her throat out.

Mike raised his newly-acquired Barrett and peered through the scope, taking in a collection of aged houses along with the steeple of a local church and a newer ivory building which towered over the mostly two-story buildings, which he assumed had to be some place of importance such as a school, courthouse or some other public institution. All seemed quiet and he saw no signs of fires, auto wrecks or zombies staggering around.

"It looks safe from this distance. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary," the marksman replied lowering the rifle to use it as a crutch.

"Well then we'd better get moving," Angela said looking to Jake and cocking her head towards the paved roadway leading to town.

Jake led the way with his M4A1 drawn while Robbie led his injured friend along from the middle with Sara limping closely behind while Angela covered the rear with the P90.

The morning chill rattled the hitman as it hit his exposed flesh, covered in layers of sweat, causing him to let out a loud string of sneezes which echoed along the quiet road. "I'll be alright," he called out, curtly waving his hand when he saw Sara stepping around her teammates to get at him.

"Well take them just in case," the medic said, reaching into her kit and producing two small capsules, "You've likely been exposed to more than one bug being out in the wilderness."

She did have a point. Having just survived Hell on Earth the last thing he wanted to face was the common cold. With a nod he accepted the tablets and shoved them into his mouth, chomping down on them when there was no water to wash them down.

Feeling a little warmed by the pills taking effect, the hitman resumed his charge along the desolate stretch, moving with a purpose as the community called out to him, not knowing whether it would be occupied by the living or teeming with the undead.

The quintet eventually passed a small white house on a hill with a pickup truck parked in front of a detached garage, the barn-shaped mailbox identifying the inhabitants as 'the Hammonds,' yet the lights were off and there were no signs of smoke coming from the chimney. Jake looked to the others and nodded, deciding it would be best to leave things be. They could always come back later if the town was overrun and they needed supplies.

Pushing their way past the house, the group continued forth along a road lined with mostly bare trees, which made it easier for them to spot any potential threats. So far there were none and they come across a road sign informing them they were less than a mile from reaching the village's downtown business district.

The road curved and the group came to a halt as they happened across an abandoned green muscle car with a black racing stripe that aside from a few dents and scratches still appeared in good condition. Jake raised a hand motioning for the others to hang back and cautiously approached the car, finding it empty and its door locked, yet nothing inside appearing to be of any use.

Stepping back, he made his way back to the front and noticed the white piece of paper tucked beneath the windshield wiper. He reached down and pried it out, quietly reading it over before looking to the others.

"What is it?" Angela asked.

"It's just some traffic notice telling the owner they have 48 hours to move their car before it gets towed…and it's from yesterday," Jake said handing it to the detective.

Angela said nothing, but there was a hopeful glimmer in her eyes and she prepared to push her way past the hitman in an eager beeline for the town, one that was halted by a sudden rustling.

Hearing the sudden disturbance, the survivors raised their weapons simultaneously, their nerves rattling and their trigger fingers itching as they pointed their guns across the road, waiting for whatever it was to make its presence known so they could eliminate it as quickly as possible.

"Come on out you bastard," Jake whispered taking a knee with his carbine held in front of him, trying to ignore the biting chill as he stared down its iron sights. _"Quit playing the waiting game with me and let's get this over with."_

There was another loud rustle and the group jumped as the being made its presence felt, only to catch themselves and suddenly feel a little awkward as the 'creature' turned out to be nothing more than a whitetail deer.

Jake lowered his rifle as he quietly observed the doe. She appeared to be in perfect shape, no protruding bones, no ragged clumps of skin hanging from her form, no blood dripping from her maw, nothing unnatural, just a harmless deer.

Another small rustle came and the group watched as the mother deer was joined by her fawn, both staring curiously at the humans before hopping away.

"False alarm," Jake said breathing a deep sigh of relief as he watched the two deer disappear into the nearby woods, unable to believe he had nearly harmed two defenseless creatures, silently thankful it hadn't come down to that.

"Well let's keep moving," Angela said again looking to the hired gun, who offered a cocky smirk before continuing at point.

The hired gun was feeling a sudden surge of confidence following their recent discoveries. They were hopeful signs to him that perhaps they were finally approaching a location free from the death and destruction he had lived through over the past week.

_"An entire week – Jesus, feels like an entire eternity," _Jake thought as they rounded the empty road, looking off into the distance and seeing more deer wandering about, even a fox and a few squirrels, another sight that seemed so foreign to him, seeing woodland critters who were still alive and actually minded their own business, not looking over and seeing him as some kind of tasty morsel.

_"Maybe the virus hasn't spread this far," _he told himself, passing another log home where two Labrador Retrievers ran about excitedly in their fenced-in backyard, barking wildly as the weary quintet passed them by.

"Here goes nothing," Jake muttered to himself as they progressed further and were able to make out more buildings through the bare trees, ascending a hill and crossing a pair of railroad tracks before finding themselves on a street lined with aged houses and in the distance an assemblage of small shops and restaurants.

There were no people present, but overall the small town appeared free from any signs of danger. Gone were the car wrecks, smashed storefronts, fires, bloodstains and dead bodies littering the tarmac, a sight so welcome, yet so foreign when compared to what the hired gun had become accustomed to.

_"Gonna take some time to readjust to," _Jake thought, unable to believe he was telling himself that, _"Then again, it took you time to understand that zombies could be real," _he added while staring down a nearby alley and finding it free of any dangers lurking about.

A bevy of squawks took the hitman's eyes back towards the sky and he watched as a flock of geese migrated south, followed by another. Even as they disappeared from sight his gaze remained transfixed upon the bright blue sky, feeling a sense of victory he was able to see one again.

"Do you guys hear that?" Robbie called out before waving his hand in motioning for everybody to quiet down.

The squawking of the geese had been replaced by a different sound, one more mechanical.

"Shit, you think someone's onto us?" Mike asked scanning the skies for the oncoming helicopter, the flutter of its blades starting out as a faint echo, now picking up volume as it grew closer.

"Over there!" Sara called out pointing towards the southern sky, her hand waving wildly as she noticed a blue and white blur forming into a dot, its shape slowly forming into something more discernible as it drew nearer.

The sound of a door opening distracted the hired gun from the spectacle and he whirled around on his foot with his carbine raised instinctively, only to find himself standing face to face with a frightened young man who looked like he had just crawled out of bed, his sandy blond hair sticking up in the back and wearing a faded old t-shirt and tattered pair of sweatpants.

"Wait-" Jake said raising his hand, but the young man had already let out a horrified gasp and slammed the door behind him.

"This looks bad," Angela said, her eyes still focused on the approaching helicopter, which swayed violently back and forth as its unseen pilot fought to maintain control. The opening of another door caught her attention and she looked over to a light blue house at her left to see a middle-aged couple peering outside and then there was another opening from her right and she turned to see a small boy stepping out with his Yorkshire Terrier on a leash.

"Police, get back inside now!" the detective shouted raising her badge for the citizens to see before returning her attention to the approaching chopper while Mike, Robbie and Sara stood with their weapons at the ready.

"It's gonna crash," Mike shouted and began hobbling away from the street, "Take cover!"

Jake watched as the four officers scattered in different directions and then glanced to the sky where the chopper was soaring towards him in a violent downdraft, its nose swaying back and forth as it grew larger and larger. The smell of smoke from its dying engine was what it took to snap the hitman from his trance and he bolted into the space between the two houses closest to him, just in time to hear the thundering crash of a violent landing followed by the screeching of steel on concrete as the copter skidded down the street.

Making his way back into the open Jake took in the aftermath, noting the deep indentation where the chopper made its initial impact, followed by the grooves of blacktop forcibly uprooted, natural earth ripped upward, mailboxes, picket fences and even a few cars obliterated by the crash landing and its following trail of destruction before the crumpled husk came to its final resting place on the front lawn of the neighborhood's lone church.

There was a sudden flurry of activity as more concerned citizens jarred awake by the deafening crash emerged from their homes and shouting to one another, actual living people who knew of a possible terror occurring before their very eyes.

"Everybody stay back! We are members of the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S., let us handle this!" Robbie shouted taking charge of the situation, slinging his MP5 over his shoulder and running over to a group of curious onlookers, raising his hands to keep them at bay.

Jake, Angela, Mike and Sara all cautiously approached the downed copter with their weapons at the ready, hopeful the horrors had not followed them all the way to an area seemingly left unspoiled by the biohazardous nightmare.

The hired gun felt his hands becoming clammy as he slowly crept towards the splintered shell, hoping it wasn't the result of a passenger turning into a zombie and attacking the pilot. He wanted to get over there as fast as he could to find out what the hell was going on, but didn't want to make a rash decision that would result in him getting his own throat torn out.

Several onlookers instinctively backed away as the bruised and bloodied hitman approached, muttering quietly amongst themselves while staring at him in a mixture of awe and terror, all eyes seemingly on him rather than his companions.

There was a loud clack as the chopper's door slid open and the armed survivors jumped backward with their weapons trained as a lone figure emerged from the wreck, collapsing to his knees and letting out a long, low groan reminding them much of the very zombies they struggled against.

"Gah…my fucking head…" the figure moaned, a Spanish accent discernible in his complaint.

_"Zombies don't feel pain and they most certainly don't talk," _Jake told himself as he took in the arrival, a man covered from head to toe in blood and grime and wearing combative gear with a logo on the back he was immediately familiar with.

"I said I wasn't one of those pain for pleasure types-" the young man grumbled as he looked up and noticed the guns trained on him, his mouth falling open and his empty hands shooting into the air, "Whoa! Don't shoot! I'm one of the good guys!"

"Can it! You work for Umbrella!" Angela snapped, taking notice of the red and white umbrella with two swords crossed in front of it on the back of his vest, "Start talking shithead!"

"Hey, take it easy lady! I'm not with those clowns anymore!" the man protested just as he looked over and caught sight of a familiar face, "Jake? What the hell are you doing here man?"

"Carlos?" Jake asked lowering his weapon, inviting suspicious stares from his companions. Before anything else could be said there was a rumbling from within the chopper as another figure made their way through the opened door.

"Jake? Jake Smith?" the woman asked.

The slender brown-haired woman was clad in a black leather miniskirt with a white sweater tied around her waist, a plain blue tube top and knee-high brown boots, all of which were heavily soiled, and had a magnum revolver lazily dangling in her hand.

"Jill? I can't believe it, you're still alive," Jake said walking slowly towards the copter, remembering their last time together being when they encountered that huge one-eyed freak with the rocket launcher, who seemed to be solely focused upon her. He stared quietly in awe, amazed she had somehow survived and was now here standing before him, dazed and battered, but still very much alive.

The young woman took notice of the armed people staring at her and when she noticed the patch on their uniforms she quickly reached into her pocket to produce her credentials, "It's okay, I'm a S.T.A.R.S. member, Raccoon City division!"

Mike, Robbie and Sara all quickly lowered their weapons upon finding themselves within the presence of a fellow constituent, while Angela lowered her gun, but cautiously backed away still not knowing what to expect.

Before anything else could be said there was a cry of surprise as a blonde-haired woman in a pink bathrobe strode towards the S.T.A.R.S. member, her two children in tow.

"You said you came from Raccoon City, what happened over there? I've been hearing on the news about the Army's quarantine. My sister and her family live there!" she demanded, her blue eyes full of fright, similar looks upon her children's faces.

"My brother lives there too, he's with the R.P.D.!" called out a middle-aged man, "His name is Vince Prescott! Please tell me, is he still alive?"

"My son goes to school at the university there!" another man shouted, a chorus of frightened cries following.

The four officers all looked uneasily to each other, noting the precariousness around them and then back to Jill, whose jaw was clenched tight, shame and guilt covering her sullied features as another man emerged from the hull behind her, a stocky, bearded man wearing a brown jacket who eyed Jake suspiciously as he climbed out of the wrecked chopper.

The wail of sirens distracted the throng and Jake turned as two police-owned S.U.V.s sped into view with their lights flashing, followed by an ambulance and a fire engine.

The concerned citizens moved to let the civil servants approach and it was then Mike made his way over to the trio producing his badge, "Michael Forrester, S.T.A.R.S. Eagle Point division, and with me are Robert Marin and Sara Quigley."

"Barry Burton," the other man said extending his meaty hand towards the marksman, "I too am a S.T.A.R.S. member…at least I was."

"Eagle Point? Did something happen elsewhere?" Jill asked stepping towards the agent, paling at the thought of the outbreak spreading beyond the confines of Raccoon City.

"I'm afraid something did," Mike replied as the survivors gathered around him, "It's a long story, but it started with our captain getting an e-mail from some Redfield guy in your division."

"Chris," Jill and Barry gasped in unison.

"Yeah, that was him," Mike replied looking back to Robbie and Sara, "We're all that's left of the Eagle Point branch."

The two Raccoon survivors looked away in shame while Carlos remained silent, just as they were approached by a police officer, a tall, slender man of African descent who wore a dark brown leather jacket identifying him as a member of the Everett County Sheriff's Department, and a matching Stetson.

"Is everybody alright? What happened here?" the man demanded.

"We're fine officer," Barry replied before looking over his shoulder towards the totaled copter, "We just barely escaped from Raccoon City. The EMP blast must have done the engine in."

"Raccoon City? What the hell!" the officer gasped, his dark eyes wide in shock.

"Relax, we're fine," Jill said stepping in, "We're going to need a lot of rest though," she finished with a heavy sigh.

The officer said nothing as his gaze was diverted to the three Eagle Point survivors and he took notice of the insignia on the sleeve of Robbie's shirt, "Wait a minute, you belong to the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. unit, where's my brother? Was he sent on a mission with you too?"

Jake looked to the officer and noticed the gold bar on his jacket identified him as _'Chapel,' _a name he recognized from one of the bodies at that makeshift crematorium in Springvale.

"His name's Levi Chapel, he's your weapons specialist," the officer prodded, eliciting an uncomfortable stare from Mike, who could only look away in the man's presence.

"Well, where is he?" the officer demanded, Robbie also looking downward in shame while Sara nervously clutched at her first-aid kit.

"About your brother…" she started, tears forming in her eyes as she struggled to find the words to explain his fate, "…oh my god, I'm so sorry. We did everything for him that we could…"

"No…" the officer muttered, a strangled croak escaping his throat, "…no, no damn it! No!" he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion, "What am I supposed to tell his wife and children?" he asked himself before looking towards Mike and noticing his lack of willingness to make eye contact with him.

"You know something about this don't you?" the man shouted, his sorrow replaced by rage, "Well don't just stand there, answer me!" he demanded marching towards the marksman and grabbing him by the collar of his vest.

"Please, it's not what you think!" Robbie shouted coming to his best friend's defense, grabbing the officer by his shoulder and eating an elbow for his troubles.

"Drake, calm down!" a voice called out from behind and the group turned to find two more officers rushing towards the ensuing ruckus, grabbing the tall man and managing to pull him off the injured S.T.A.R.S. member.

"I'm terribly sorry for my deputy's outburst," another voice spoke up and the group turned to find an older man with a gray handlebar mustache and matching hair walking towards him, his badge identifying him as a sheriff, "Sherman Tribbett, I'm the sheriff of Everett County. Are all of you alright?"

"We're fine Sheriff, a little battered and bloody, but I think we're going to make it," Angela answered holstering her Beretta.

"Heh, you can say that again. You all look like death warmed over," the sheriff replied, taking in the wary group, "Just what the hell happened to all of you?"

"It's a long story…one we can't tell here," the detective replied looking around to all of the gathered townspeople.

"Well whatever it is, you're all going to need some medical attention," Sheriff Tribbett said noting their worn appearances before sniffing the air, "Not to forget a warm shower, some food and some rest."

"I definitely can't disagree with you there," Barry chuckled.

"C'mon, we've got a medical facility just across town. We'll take you there and get you patched up," the sheriff replied before calling out to the paramedics present.

Jake watched quietly from the background as the officers ordered the citizens back to their homes and the firefighters cautiously approached the chopper wreckage to make sure it wouldn't ignite. The paramedics quickly made their way over to the Eagle Point S.T.A.R.S. operatives, all of whom were wounded and needed immediate attention.

"I honestly thought I'd never see you again," Jill said walking over to him, "I'm just glad to see someone else make it out alive."

"Well somehow I did," Jake replied shrugging his shoulders before looking over to the townspeople, some of whom were still calling out to Jill demanding answers regarding their loved ones left behind in Raccoon City.

"So tell me…what happened to Raccoon City?" the hitman asked, noting one man who had to be held back by a sheriff's deputy as he wagged his finger threateningly towards Jill, demanding to know if his best friend was still alive.

Much like it was with the townsfolk, the ex-S.T.A.R.S. operative was at a loss for words. Something serious had happened, he could see it in her eyes, but he was willing to give her all the time in the world to explain herself. He had to know and he had to hear it straight from the mouth of someone who was there until the bitter end.

"Sir, you're going to need to come with me," another voice called out from behind and the hired gun turned to find two paramedics waiting for him.

Jake opened his mouth to speak, but another quick interjection from the white-shirted medic cut him off.

"Sir please, it's urgent we get you to the hospital immediately," the man said reaching his glove hand out and grabbing the assassin's grubby arm, turning him around and pointing him in the direction of another ambulance that had just arrived on the scene.

The hired gun turned to say something to Jill, but she wasn't there and he looked over to find two other paramedics leading her towards the first ambulance on the scene, where Carlos and that new guy Barry were being led into the back.

"This way please," the medic said leading Jake over to the ambulance just as Mike was being strapped down to a gurney and being loaded into the back with him.

"Alright, just sit back and relax," another paramedic ordered, this one a young woman with her short hair worn bobbed similar to Jill, "Man you look like a mess, what happened to you?" she asked reaching for a bottle of alcohol and some fresh gauze.

"Trust me, you wouldn't want to know," Jake replied tersely, calling out in surprise as he felt a needle jabbing into his arm, shooting his eyes open to find the other medic hovering over him.

"Relax sir, it's just a painkiller. You look like you definitely need it," the man spoke.

Again Jake said nothing, looking over to Mike Forrester, strapped down to the gurney and being injected with a sedative.

The marksman felt Jake's eyes upon him and he slowly turned his head to him, offering a weak smile and a thumbs up, just as his eyelids grew heavy and his arm fell limply to the side.

He didn't want to say it out loud, but it was an oddly comforting sight to the young Jake Cavanaugh, just as he felt his own muscles beginning to relax.

"_Maybe I truly am safe for once," _a feeling of sudden euphoria as the medication took effect and within seconds he was drifting off to the blissfulness of Dreamland.

XXXXX

The window of the crumpled cargo door shattered into pieces as the gloved hand was driven through it.

"_It won't end today," _Albert Wesker thought as he tried desperately to pull himself to freedom.

Howling in pain he clawed his way through the small opening using his one remaining hand, gripping the frame and with a mighty oomph pulled himself into the daylight, sliding down the red hot blackened surface, his right leg becoming impaled upon a jagged spike sticking out and tearing his leg open as he hit the gravel surface.

A small case fell from his ripped open breast pocket and hit the ground several inches away from his mutilated form.

"_It won't end today," _he repeated to himself through a crippling haze of anguish, _"Not after I've come this far!"_

The dying supervisor's body looked like it had been run over and then set ablaze. Burns and charred skin covered his visible form; much of the flesh seared away from his face, and with it his trademark snappy blond haircut, still smoking beneath the shredded remnants of his uniform. Shards of razor sharp metal and glass stuck out from his arms and legs making him look like a human pin cushion. The rest of his body was covered in deep lacerations that left a bloody trail beneath him and bones that had been broken in every angle imaginable, some ground to dust and some protruding from beneath his flesh. It would take a miracle to save his life.

"_Move forward," _he told himself mentally, saving his breath for the herculean task before him. Willing his remaining arm to drag him along the rocky ground with all the strength he could muster, every little movement he made caused the entire world to spin around him and with every second wasted he felt his life slipping further away.

"_Faster," _his mind screamed at him. His accelerated healing factor was moving too slowly for this kind of situation, having wreaked more havoc upon his body than that Tyrant back at the Spencer Estate. Ripped tendons attempted to string themselves back together and his opened wounds tried to bind, only adding to the ungodly agony he endured.

Unable to take any more he threw his head back and screamed to the early morning skies, still largely darkened by the smoke of the wreck and the still smoldering trees that had become ignited following the chopper's collision with the forest floor.

"I…will…not…die!" he gasped as loudly as his punctured lung would allow, followed by a violent hacking fit that left him coughing up mouthfuls of blood.

"_Stop it damn it. You're starting to look human," _his mind scolded, _"You're not going to be in control looking like one of those pitiful slugs. Your lifeblood is waiting for you."_

He looked ahead towards the all too important steel casing, the key to his survival held within.

Stretching his arm ahead he managed to grip a firm handhold into the earth and pulled himself along, feeling as if his upper torso were going to become separated from his legs with every move he took, yet knowing he had to keep going. Giving up was _not_ an option.

"_Not when I'm so close to becoming a god," _he told himself, his fingers just inches away from brushing the small case's smooth steel surface.

With one final lunge, his hand fell on top of the steel surface, a tortured smile crossing his charred features as he gripped the small case.

"_Sweet victory at last," _he told himself as he managed to pop the case open one-handed following a bit of a struggle and wriggled the small syringe out of the padded interior. Next to the syringe was a cigar-shaped silver tube stamped with a biohazard label carrying the same purplish liquid as the needle, the same experimental strain of the 'Progenitor Virus' that had enhanced his body and saved him from certain doom before, and next to that was another needle carrying the special serum to keep it under control.

It had been too long since his last injection and there was too much damage done to his body to find a suitable vein for administering the serum. Resting the syringe on his stomach, the supervisor used his remaining hand to tear his vest open and then grasp the small needle. With a final desperate rush he jabbed the needle into his heart artery and depressed the plunger.

Wesker suddenly felt very numb and allowed his hand to slip away from the syringe, staring lifelessly towards the heavens.

It was then that it hit him and a fire burned in his veins, the fires of life being restored.

He began to spasm uncontrollably and his back arched him upward. A chorus of pained screams followed as his limbs convulsed and a fresh layer of blood poured down his face and clouded his eyes, which had already threatened to roll back into his head. It was the most indescribable pain ever felt, the pain before rebirth.

As the supervisor writhed and howled upon the ground, his dying heart began to beat with renewed vigor, his lungs pumping stronger and his pulse quickening. Torn skin and muscle knitted back together automatically and broken bones mended until he could move his limbs under his own free will once again. The pointed stump that remained of his right hand swiftly began to bubble and with the ripping of flesh, a bloody new hand popped out from the opening to replace the one lost in battle.

In an instant, Albert Wesker was whole once again. There was no more pain, only measured breathing and blood pumping freely through his system. He had been saved from Death's Door again.

"Albert Wesker cannot die, not as long as this strain flows through my body," he said lifting himself up and dusting off his tattered uniform. Reaching into the case he pulled out the other needle and injected it into a vein in his forearm, taking some time to stare at the needle that had just helped to save his life.

Unfortunately William had not taken the liberty to draw up any schematics as he developed the archetype, therefore the virus' effects were only known through observations both Albert himself and his subordinates made. His personal researchers still struggled to pinpoint the means of stabilizing the strain and until then he was forced to rely upon a prototype serum dubbed the 'PG67A/W.'

"_It will take time, but eventually they will get it under control and soon you will be one step closer to godhood," _he told himself flicking the empty needle aside, hopeful for the day when he would finally have full control over his powers.

Turning on his heel he studied the smoking ruins of the UH-60 Black Hawk that was to act as his means of escape, now a crumpled mass of blackened steel. Sticking out from one of the front windows was the pilot's severed arm, Hatcher his name had been, one of many who perished the night before.

To him they were expendable, mere tools who had served their purpose well when needed, only to be discarded when their use came to its conclusion. He didn't humanize them in the same way Karkian did, viewing them as his 'family,' the one thing that kept him human and thus, weak.

His thoughts weren't with the deceased men, never one to mourn another's loss. He was focused on the charred midsection of the former helicopter, instead he was thinking of one individual in particular.

His blood boiled at the thought of this man.

"_Jake Cavanaugh. At first I was convinced you were nothing more than a lowly degenerate off the streets, an over-glorified errand boy who was paid more than you were worth," _he thought staring darkly at the crumpled metallic mass and the charred trees ignited during its collision with the earth.

The thoughts of their 'final confrontation' were still fresh in his mind and he forced himself to look away down the nearby winding trail.

"_He showed me back in Raccoon that he was far more than some typical mob oaf. He had the skills of a true cold-blooded killer and it was through sheer luck, skill and indomitable willpower he eliminated the mutated William Birkin._

"_He truly impressed me. He could have been an actual asset, not some tool I would have discarded after one use. I could have made him something more than just a career criminal," _the supervisor thought, his knuckles clenching.

"_You underestimated him," _a voice told him, reminding him of the bitter pill he had to swallow. _"You thought he would blindly follow you when you dangled that ten million dollars in front of him. How could you have possibly overlooked that possibility? Of course he would have been angry when you sent him head on into a zombie apocalypse, regardless of whether or not you knew it was going to happen."_

Wesker grunted aloud and walked over to the nearest tree, punching a hole through its ancient surface with a feral grunt. A normal human would have shattered every bone in their hand trying something like that, but the ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain merely shrugged and with a deep breath brought his hands up to smooth back his neatly-trimmed blond hair.

"You're out there somewhere Cavanaugh, I know it," he whispered looking down to the warped remnants of what had been his laptop computer that had a built-in G.P.S., leaving him stranded out in the middle of nowhere.

Thanks to Cavanaugh's meddling his mission had been a failure on multiple fronts.

He failed to acquire the hired gun himself and thus lost what could have been a guinea pig for his new company's own 'Tyrant' project, thanks to Cavanaugh's rare genetic makeup.

With his laptop destroyed he had lost all of the combat data gathered during the operation in Springvale, especially from some of the newer B.O.W.s born from the experimentation at the facility there.

Sara Quigley, whose blood was critical to helping understand the viral strain developed by her father, had been rescued from his clutches by the lone gunman, having managed to cut his way through an entire platoon of his commandos just to get at her.

It was a catastrophic level of failure he had never before endured, not even when Redfield and the other Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. survivors managed to destroy the T-002 sample and escape the mansion facility alive.

"You will pay for this insult. Mark my words Cavanaugh, you _will_ pay!"

The flutter of helicopter blades sounded in the distance, the supervisor able to hear them from miles away further thanks to his advanced hearing. No doubt it would be the authorities showing up to investigate the recent happenings. He needed to get out of there and fast.

"_Oh well, at least this virus has its perks," _Albert Wesker told himself as he broke into a run and within seconds, became just a blur to the naked eye.

XXXXX

Author's Note: The scene with Jake encountering the deer was inspired by that scene from "The Walking Dead" where Carl and Rick happen across that doe just before Carl gets shot in Season 2.

Wesker fans rejoice, he's not dead! Killing him off at this point would probably create some kind of huge paradox that would most likely suck us all into some kind of black endless vortex and thus poof!

Well that's all I have to say for now as I near the end so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	58. Ch 57: Meaning in Tragedy

Author's Note: First and foremost I want to wish all of you a very Happy New Year! Here's hoping that 2013 can be a much better year for me and here's also hoping it will be the year I finally get this done! The end is near; I can definitely sense it, all I ask is you stay with me on this one.

Until then, on with the story!

Chapter 57: Meaning in Tragedy

Jake's eyes shot open and with a loud gasp he bolted upright in bed.

The hitman was speechless, save for his rapid breaths. He wanted to call out, yet his rapid chest falls would not permit. All he could do was sit there and wait, wait for the breath that would allow him to call out to anybody nearby.

It would be several tense seconds before everything slowed down and it was then the blur his vision became gave way to his surroundings.

"Where the hell am I now?" he muttered, finding himself in a nondescript, sterile-looking room that looked more like an unfurnished bedroom than a hospital room.

Looking down, he expected to find himself covered from head to toe in bandages, yet there was nothing. Not only that, he wasn't wearing the hospital gown he expected, nor was he wearing the clothes he had on when taken in by the paramedics, but the same clothes he wore into Raccoon City.

_"The last thing I remember was that one guy giving me a painkiller and then nothing," _he thought to himself kicking off the covers and setting his feet on the floor beneath him, no pain at all in his movements.

_"How can this be?" _he asked himself, wanting to feel relieved when he found himself supposedly free from any dangers, yet finding himself on guard. A million other questions were streaming through his psyche to the point he felt like he was drowning, clamping his hands to the sides of his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

_"Christ, pull yourself together Jake," _he told himself, straightening his posture and slowly opening his eyes.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

On a small table in front of him was a bouquet of the reddest roses he had ever seen.

"How…" he whispered making his way over to the table and swiping them up, raising them to his nose, but smelling nothing at all.

Jake stared awkwardly at the bouquet and again raised it to his nose, yet there was still no smell. They felt real, yet at the same time they seemed fake.

"They're beautiful aren't they?" a voice called out from behind.

Whirling around, he found himself standing before someone who shouldn't have been there.

"Ashley?" he gasped, his jaw nearly hitting the floor and his heart hammering away inside his chest.

There she stood in all her glory, ever so beautiful and radiant, looking exactly as she had the day he first met her seven years earlier.

"Ashley…" he repeated, a loss for words following the name of his beloved.

He wanted so desperately to rush over and embrace her, to hold her in his arms and make sure she would never leave his side ever again.

Yet how could she be here? She had been dead for six years. He wanted to tell her the truth, tell her of the tragic fate to come, yet he couldn't bring himself to.

"What's wrong sweetie? Aren't you happy to see me?" she giggled walking over to him and placing her hand on his cheek.

Yet again, he felt nothing. There was no warmth, no delicate sensation he always felt whenever he touched her, no feeling of him wanting to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight against his chest.

"Jake, is everything alright?" she asked, worry in her crystal blue eyes as she was met by silence.

He wanted to tell her he was fine, but he would have been lying. How could he tell her that he was standing within the presence of a ghost?

"Jake, please speak to me!" Ashley pleaded, grabbing him by his shirt and tugging at him, yet he still felt nothing and could only stare quietly at her until she finally gave up.

"Jake…aren't you happy to see me again?" she sobbed, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, now burning bright red. "It's me Jake…Ashley. Don't you remember? I…love you…"

"Ashley," he whispered before choking out the next words, "You're supposed to be…" No – he couldn't finish.

"What?" she demanded grabbing him by the shoulders, "What Jake? What am I supposed to be? What? Please, answer me!" she sobbed the last part, her face the deepest shade of red he had ever seen, drenched by her tears.

"Ashley, I…I…" Jake tried to finish looking down into her eyes before his jaw again clenched shut, a few stifled grunts escaping before forcing himself to speak again, "No, I can't say it!"

"You can't say what?" she screamed, "Why are you doing this to me, Jake? I thought you loved me!"

The young woman released her grip on the hitman and then turned on her foot, storming out of the room. As she walked past, she slapped the vase off the table and sent it falling to the floor, the ear-splitting shatter snapping Jake back to his senses.

"Oh god, Ashley I'm so sorry! Wait!' he called out, _"Don't leave me again," _he thought making his way through the door.

"What the hell?" he asked himself as he stepped into the hallway only to find Ashley was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found himself face to face with someone else he never expected.

"Milo?" the hired gun gasped.

"Jake, how's it going old buddy? It's been far too long," the short man replied, a smile crossing his features.

Again the assassin found himself wanting to feel thrilled at the sight of another old face, yet horrified when he realized it was someone who had been dead for years, not a zombie looking to tear his throat out, but what he could only think of as a 'ghost.'

"Milo, how did you get here?" Jake demanded walking over and reaching out to his best friend, grabbing the man's shoulder, but feeling nothing.

"I've always been here Jake. How could I just up and leave you behind after you failed to save me from those asshole jocks?" the specter retorted, his tone suddenly becoming sinister.

"What are you talking about? I tried to save you!" Jake shot back, only to be cut off by insane laughter.

"Yeah, sure you did! Sure you tried, but 'trying' wasn't good enough you loser!" Milo's apparition laughed, "Why don't you just quit beating around the bush and say right out that you were too slow to save your own best friend!" he finished, his dark eyes partially obscured by the curly strands hanging in front of them.

"And too slow to save your own brother," a new voice entered the fray.

Jake's heart sank even further as another dark-haired man stepped into view from behind Milo.

"Ryan?"

"Yes it's me Jake," the elder Cavanaugh brother replied, "I'm here because you were too fucking slow! Not only that, you let that Cazador prick live! You should have avenged me and killed that weak son of a bitch!"

"What about me Jake?" an older woman's voice called out, "Why did you have to go out and waste your time that night?"

"Mom…" the hitman muttered, his lower lip trembling as his beloved mother appeared from the shadows.

"If you had been faster I would still be alive and your life wouldn't be ruined," Mary Cavanaugh's voice trailed, sounding almost ethereal as she took her place among the spirits.

"Mom, I'm sorry! I didn't know he was going to do that to you!" Jake shouted the mixture of rage and sorrow boiling together as his thoughts were taken back to his abusive father and the night he found him kneeling over his mother's corpse with that smoking gun in hand.

"Of course you did," she spat, the loving warmth of a saintly, doting mother replaced by the dark venom of someone possessed by demons, "You knew what an abusive ogre that man was! You could have stayed home that night and protected me!"

"You can't even save your own friends Cavanaugh, no wonder Viper left you for dead in that alley!" a deep voice boomed.

He looked over to see a tan-skinned man with his back to him, a weird haircut and every inch of his exposed skin covered in tribal tattoos, the most prominent being the one which ran across his shoulders, the one which stood for his Maori tribe. It was one worn by all of his 'sworn brothers,' including Jake Cavanaugh himself.

"Hawk," he whispered to himself, his eyes widening as the Pacific Islander turned around to show off the bullet holes dotting his upper torso, fresh blood leaking from them, yet not staining the floor he stood over.

His deceased O'Bannon associate was soon joined by three more figures, all of whom stood torn apart by gunfire.

"Fox…Buster…Eddie…" Jake ran down the list of names, only to be interrupted by the harsh collective laughter of the quartet.

"You actually remember our names, that's cute," Buster shouted, "You remember names better than you protect your friends!"

"If I would've known you were gonna be such a fuck up I'd have shot you myself!" Eddie shouted.

"Remember Jake, Ashley's not the only woman you loved whom you failed to protect," another young woman's voice called out and he looked to find a teenaged girl with long blonde hair glaring hatefully upon him, Clarissa Belding, his boyhood crush. "If you would've killed him sooner you could have saved all those other people from being violated by that sick pervert who ripped my soul out of me!"

The accusing voices were becoming too much and Jake clamped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as he violently shook his head, doing whatever he could to shut them out.

It was useless.

"You're a failure Cavanaugh! A fucking failure!"

"Why don't you just do the world a favor and die Jake?"

"You deserve to suffer for your own ineptitude!"

"God could _never_ grant you a place in Heaven you murdering bastard!"

"You will answer for your sins!"

"Burn in Hell Jake Cavanaugh you fucking waste of flesh!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Jake roared, his outburst making the volume grow even higher. The ground quaked beneath his feet and the white light around him became blinding, the voices never faltering.

He had to get out of there some way or another, his only thought. Allowing himself to look up, he squinted through the blinding light emitted by the ghosts and noticed the simple wooden door awaiting him at the end. Without a word he sprinted towards the door, the accusing voices following him the entire way.

"You can't run away from us forever Jake!"

"You're ours to haunt forever!"

"It didn't have to be this way! You could have saved us!"

"There's no way out for you, just like it is for us!"

Jake did his best to ignore the mocking voices, reaching out for the doorknob and pulling the door open, only to find himself in yet another uninviting locale.

Gone were the sterile white walls and accusing voices, now replaced by the grim solitude of a cemetery at night.

Jake stood alone looking off towards hills lined with tombstones and mausoleums, thinking the silence would have been welcoming.

Yet the feelings of dread only amplified to levels never before felt.

"Quite the tragedy wasn't it?" an elderly voice called out, snapping the hitman out of his thoughts.

"What?" Jake said spinning around to find an elderly gravedigger reclining against his shovel, a pipe in his free hand.

"Didn't cha' hear 'bout that poor Cavanaugh lad?" the gravedigger asked in a thick Irish-accented tone, "They done did a good number on 'im. Poor boy barely had any time left in 'im!"

"What the hell are you talking about old man?" Jake growled getting in the man's face, "Just what the hell happened to this 'poor Cavanaugh lad?'"

The old man looked up to him and smiled sinisterly with his mouthful of yellowed teeth, the mixture of whiskey and tobacco on his breath. The pointy beak-like nose, the narrowed expression of his green eyes, the prominent mole on the edge of his chin, the shaggy red hair covered by a plaid flat cap, it was then he recognized the fellow as Old Finn, a semi-mythical fixture around the community of Somerset who was never seen during the daytime, regarded as something of a bogeyman used to keep wayward children in line.

"_Behave yourself or else Old Finn's gonna come and take you in the dead of night," _they always said, he thought to himself as the old man placed the pipe to his lips and exhaled a thick plume of smoke.

"Have a look friend!" he said motioning towards a nearby marker.

Laying his eyes upon the large tombstone, his blue orbs suddenly grew as wide as saucers.

'_HERE LIES JACOB CAVANAUGH SENTENCED TO BURN ETERNALLY IN HELL FOR HIS CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY.'_

"There's only one thing left to do now!" another voice called out, this one making the blood in his veins freeze upon contact.

That voice, he recognized it as…his own!

Whirling around on his heel Jake was met by a figure walking towards him, its features obscured by the shadows. The figure remained silent as it came forth and gradually stepped into the light. When the moonlight finally shone upon its full being, the hired gun could only gasp aloud in astonishment and horror.

Standing just a few feet away from him was a direct mirror image of himself, clad in the same clothing and brandishing a 9mm handgun. The only difference was that his clone was covered in blood and riddled with bullets, including one lodged between his eyes from which fresh blood still oozed.

Without warning the Jake Cavanaugh doppelganger raised its pistol and spoke.

"Die!"

The trigger squeezed and everything went white.

XXXXX

"NO!"

Jake Cavanaugh screamed to his assailant as he bolted upright in bed.

Expecting to find himself impaled upon the Devil's pitchfork, instead he was met by plain white walls, just as it had been before.

The feelings of dread returned and the hitman jerked violently, only to be halted by the fresh wave of pain shooting through his torso.

"What the hell gives?" he gasped, only to look down and find himself in a generic hospital gown.

His arms were covered in bandages and he looked over to a mirror on the wall to his left, finding most of his face covered as well. Near the mirror was a digital clock telling him it was almost 7:30 in the evening and it was still October 1, 1998.

"It was all just a dream," he muttered to himself and allowed himself to collapse into the hospital bed, his head resting on a comfy pillow.

"_It was all just one huge messed up dream," _his mind repeated, the haunting accusations vanishing from his thoughts as he stared up to the equally dull ceiling and took a few deep breaths.

Raccoon City had not been a dream and neither was Springvale. Both were very real tragedies that had taken both a physical and a mental toll upon the young hired gun and he had to wonder if the nightmare he just experienced was both incidents coming together to gnaw away at the threads of sanity within his mind.

"_How long is it before I'm fitted for a straightjacket and locked away in a padded cell?" _he asked himself, not wanting to think of what could be to come regarding his mental health. _"Guess this is one case where I wouldn't mind taking the needle to the arm, better that than being left to spend my days screaming bloody murder nonstop."_

The morbid thought brought a sudden pain to Jake's temples and he went to bring his hands up to rub at them, only to hear a metallic clink and find himself unable to move his left wrist.

"What the fuck?" he asked himself raising his head and looking down to find his left wrist had been handcuffed to the bed's railing.

"_Damn it! How come I didn't notice that sooner?" _he scolded himself, knowing the answer being that he had been too preoccupied with his other thoughts to notice.

The question lingering in his mind was _"Who could have done this?" _

He wondered if the local authorities had caught wind of his survival. Maybe the S.T.A.R.S. members had sold him up the river.

No, it had to be that detective chick!

"_Why wouldn't it be? She's the one who was out to get you for offing her brother. It's gotta be her, no question about it," _Jake told himself as he struggled to sit up in bed.

Whatever the case was, it was possible his alliance with the officers had been compromised and he needed to get out of there.

He looked to both sides for an idea of how to escape; knowing there _had_ to be a way he could get out of this mess.

"_There's always gotta be a way," _he reminded himself, driven by the iron will that pushed him beyond his normal means and had enabled him to survive great adversity in the past.

He looked to his right where there was an IV stand hooked to his arm and he forcefully ripped the needles out, looking past the machinery to find a few steel folding chairs that wouldn't have been able to help him. To his left was his tray where a large plastic water pitcher had been left along with a box of Kleenex and a few other small items. He was about to look elsewhere when he saw a small, thin object sticking out from behind the box.

"It's gotta be…" he whispered while bracing himself for the pain to come and with a stifled grunt, reached his right arm over to knock the Kleenex box out of the way, finding a bobby pin that might have been dropped by one of the nurses.

Right now it was his ticket out of here and he had to get to it.

It would have been impossible to reach without assistance, thankfully there was a paper cover placed over the tray's wooden surface and Jake managed to clamp down on it. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to get to the pin without making some noise and he yanked on the slip, sending the pitcher clattering to the floor and spilling its contents.

All that mattered was the bobby pin was now within reach and he eagerly scooped it up, sliding it into the cuff's keyhole. It took a few seconds of struggle before he jimmied the lock open and with a resounding click his left wrist was free.

"_Now to get the hell outta here," _he said to himself, slowly removing the covers and throwing his legs over the bedside, wincing as his bare feet connected with the cool tile floor.

Quietly making his way over to the door he gently eased it open, relieved to see there was no guard posted as expected. He listened for movement, able to hear a few different pairs of feet rapidly crossing the tile surface and then retreated back into his room as an auburn-haired nurse ran down the adjacent hall, followed closely by another woman. Fortunately for him, they appeared focused on something else; one of them heard muttering something about a 'code blue.' With both of them out of the way he carefully entered the corridor and began his escape.

Being clad in nothing but a hospital gown was an embarrassing thought for the hitman, but he knew there was no time to change clothes. He needed to get out of there, his gaze darting back and forth as he crept along the hallway looking around for any exit or anybody that could have been coming in his direction.

Fortunately the medical facility appeared to be a fairly small building and he wouldn't have a lot of ground to cover for his escape.

The hitman hugged the wall to his left and listened quietly for any sounds, still able to hear the nurses struggling in the distance with their dying patient. From behind the wooden doors he passed, he could hear the dull beeping of the machinery inside and the roar of the crowd from a football game being viewed within one of the rooms. Approaching a turn, he slowed his pace and ignoring the pain shooting up his shins, pulled himself around the corner…only to nearly collide with a security guard who had his back to him.

The burly man could sense Jake's presence behind him and was about to turn around, only to receive an elbow to the temple for his troubles, sending a fresh wave of pain through his heavily-bandaged arm. Doing his best to shrug off the shockwave, the hired gun caught the unconscious man just before he could hit the ground and noticed a nearby janitor's closet.

"Fuck…fuck damn it…" Jake grunted as he dragged the man beneath his arms, feeling the strain on his bandages and the torn skin underneath, swearing he could feel the sticky blood starting to pool. Eventually he was able to reach his hand out and pull the door's handle down and with a labored additional effort, hauled the unconscious guard inside, setting him in the corner and closing the door behind him.

With his little distraction out of the way, the assassin resumed his trek, taking a left into another hallway and passing an unattended nurse's kiosk. Apparently that 'code blue' had been a pretty big deal, big enough it had drawn what few staff members the facility had on duty away from their usual posts for an extended amount of time.

"_Gotta be thankful I found myself stuck in some middle of nowhere hick town," _Jake told himself, knowing the sailing wouldn't have been as smooth in a big city hospital with all the additional people who would have been there.

With nobody in sight, the hitman picked up his pace, knowing his bare feet wouldn't echo like they would have had he been wearing shoes, especially evident as he passed a room where he could see an elderly woman passed out in her wheelchair, whom he also assumed could have been deaf, and then passing a room where a young woman was seen standing over an unconscious man lying in his hospital bed, most likely her boyfriend or husband. Either way, it was like he was a ghost and nobody was aware of his presence.

"_-and in other news, the story that has been all over headlines today has been the destruction of Raccoon City."_

The tinny words stopped the hitman dead in his tracks, his muscles tensing and his ears perking up.

"_Did I just hear that correctly?" _Jake asked himself as he turned towards a slightly opened door where the reporter's voice came from.

Creeping towards the door, he gently nudged it open to find it led into a small waiting room where Mike Forrester, Sara Quigley and Robbie Marin all sat with their backs to him, eyes glued to the TV screen.

The image before them depicted a lingering mushroom cloud emerging from a massive crater while the reporter's voiceover continued in the background, text at the bottom of the screen identifying the speaker as 'Kip Willows.'

"_It has been well over 12 hours since President Middleton sanctioned the usage of 'Bacillus Terminate Operation Code: XX' in response to the reports of the massive outbreak of a lethal mystery virus that was said to have originated within the confines of the sleepy mountain community of Raccoon City, Minnesota," _the reporter's sober narration continued as the scene switched to a computer generated graphic depicting the missile's path to the town. _"When questioned about the usage of such deadly force, a representative from the White House commented it was done to prevent the spread of the outbreak to any neighboring communities. As of late, they have declined to comment further on the matter."_

The scene then switched to the outskirts of the city where grieving families were shown gathered around crudely erected memorials lined with flowers, candles and pictures of their lost loved ones, while elsewhere National Guardsmen were struggling to mollify a horde of angry citizens dog piling against the rickety wooden fence meant to keep them out of the established perimeter, forcing a few riot cops to step in to lend assistance.

"_At this point, the city's estimated death toll is believed to be well over 100,000 with many left unaccounted for as people continue piling in from all over their country, hopeful their loved ones are among those gathered at one of various refugee centers established around the city._

"_This is truly a dark day in our nation's history. All I can say is God bless the people of Raccoon City and God bless us all."_

Jake fell silent as his mind processed the explosive information just received.

"_Raccoon City is gone, nuked off the face of the earth, just like that? What in the fucking hell?" _the hitman thought stepping away from the door and hugging his back to the wall, _"I figured the government would've taken some kind of preventative measure, but to launch a nuclear weapon against their own people? That's just fucking overkill," _he told himself, knowing there had to be pockets of weary, traumatized survivors scattered around the city before it became a smoking crater, hidden away in basements, attics and wherever else they could find for shelter, waiting for the cavalry to come save them. In the end, they were vaporized into nothing more than radioactive dust.

"_That could have been me," _he reminded himself, _"It could have been Leon and Claire, Kevin and Alyssa, Jill and Carlos, Barry, Sherry…I wonder if it could have been David McGraw, Eric Sampson, Miranda Bennett, Mark Wilkins…" _he thought, rattling off random names of survivors he personally encountered who were now left unaccounted for. Did they somehow escape, or had they too fallen to the nuclear fire?

There was no time to think any further as footfalls echoed in the distance, telling him someone was fast approaching. He needed to get out of there and fast.

Whirling around on his heel, the hitman sprinted in the opposite direction, taking a wide turn around another corner to avoid an empty gurney positioned against the wall and then making another deft move to avoid an empty wheelchair, shrugging off the fresh waves of pain.

At the end of the hall was a door leading outside and he could feel the tunnel vision kicking in, his pace quickening and his pulse hammering as he made his approach, eagerly shooting his hand out and slamming the bar down.

There was a loud creak, but Jake didn't care. It felt so good to feel the evening wind on his face, until he again remembered he was wearing nothing but a hospital gown and the relief turned to a biting chill.

Furthermore, there was the idling of a diesel engine and he turned to his left to find a military Humvee driving past flanked by two soldiers in olive drab hazmat gear with assault rifles in hand. Nearby there was another figure in a plain white hazmat uniform with a Geiger counter in hand. Yet another realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Shit," he muttered to himself looking up to the nighttime sky.

"_If they're walking around dressed like that there must be radiation in the air," _he told himself looking down to the plain gown he wore, _"Fuck, it's only going to be a matter of time before I'm sick and then what happens to me? Do I become a walking nightlight or some flesh-craving ghoul like those ones in the 'Wasteland' series?"_

Whatever the case was, he would be screwed if the fallout had made its way to Maple. He was no genius when it came to anything nuclear related; therefore there was no way to be sure whether or not he was in trouble.

Yet as it had been when he was briefly infected with the T-Virus back in Raccoon City, there was no time to sit around and fall to pieces. He would need to make the most of the time he had left and right now, his main objective was to find a way out of Maple.

Jake quickly ducked for cover behind a dumpster, listening for the military vehicle to move along before he continued down a nearby alley, the fresh throbbing in his feet reminding him one of the first things on his 'to do' list before escaping would be to get himself a pair of shoes and some clothes to go with it.

The alley would lead to the parking lot at the back of the hospital, where an ambulance had just arrived and the paramedics were in the process of unloading an unconscious man strapped to a gurney. Waiting to greet the unconscious man was another one of those people in a white hazmat suit armed with a Geiger counter, whom he assumed must have been a scientist of some sort.

"_They must be here to make sure the radiation hasn't spread," _Jake thought to himself, looking over to spot a white van with the letters 'CDC' stenciled on the side. He watched from his hiding spot behind a parked sedan as the scientist scanned the unconscious man and then both paramedics, who weren't wearing any kind of protective equipment and thus directly exposed to anything airborne. It was a quietly comforting sight when the white-clad man (or woman) gave the all clear and the unconscious man was ferried into the hospital.

"What the hell?" Jake whispered as a black sedan suddenly pulled into view, watching as it came to a halt behind the CDC van. Four men in matching black suits stepped out of the car, the redheaded man in the front passenger's seat approaching the researcher and flashing some kind of badge at them.

"_What the hell are the Feds doing here?" _he asked himself, watching in silence as the black-suited man chatted with the researcher for a few seconds and when the faceless scientist apparently didn't have what they were looking for, _"More importantly, why aren't they all geared up like everybody else seems to be? Maybe things aren't as bad as some government jack offs would like to let on," _he told himself as the four men climbed back into their car and took their leave.

Things were becoming too alarming for the hired gun, deepening his resolve to get the hell out of Dodge.

When the researcher disappeared into the back of the van, Jake bolted across the parking lot and into another alley behind some one story buildings until he came to the end and found himself standing across the street from a small restaurant called Etta's Diner.

Inside he noticed Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira sitting at one of the window booths chatting with a few of the locals, soon rejoined by Barry Burton. He watched as the Maple residents looked on intently, no doubt being told stories of the survivors' escapades in Raccoon. With a nod, Jake bade them a silent farewell and resumed his trek.

"Where to next?" he muttered to himself, taking cover behind a hatchback as some patrons exited the diner and waiting for them to enter their car, only for them to find themselves accosted by more armed soldiers and another person in a white hazmat suit popping up from out of nowhere.

Maple was a much smaller community when compared to Raccoon City, but it was what lay beyond the isolated mountain hamlet that would provide the challenges he sought to avoid, ones that would be exacerbated by him traveling by foot without any supplies or firearms. He knew the community would be carrying everything he needed; it was all just a matter of finding the right place to look.

"_This is the fucking boondocks, hunters galore," _Jake thought to himself as he ducked into another alley just in time to avoid the blinding headlights of an oncoming pickup truck, _"Might have to live off the land for a while, beats prison food though."_

He traveled until he was behind a strip mall and found a dark blue pickup truck that looked rugged enough to survive the rough terrain surrounding Maple.

Sneaking up to the truck he peered through one of the windows to see some hunting gear lying in the cargo area, a pair of camouflage pants and a bright orange heavyweight jacket meant for deer hunters, along with a pair of winter boots nearby. Lying next to them appeared to be some hunting rifles and boxes of ammo.

"_Score one for me," _Jake told himself with a smirk as he looked for some means of entry into the truck. Unfortunately he didn't have a lock pick on him, meaning he would probably have to be a daredevil and break one of the windows, knowing there was a chance a passerby could hear the commotion and alert the authorities.

Either way he needed to get the hell out of there and found a discarded brick lying near a small garage covered in peeling paint. Creeping over to the brick he reached down to pick it up when he was cut off by muffled voices from within.

Unfortunately for Jake, the glass was too thick for him to hear exactly what was going on, but when he looked through the smudged up window his mouth fell open in shock.

Angela Cataldo was in the garage seated on a small wooden chair rubbing her wrists gingerly, telling him she had been restrained just recently. More of those black-suited men were present and positioned carefully around the garage. Judging by how cooperatively she sat, he could tell the men were armed, their weapons logically concealed beneath their smart sport coats.

Seated across from the detective was another man in a dark suit, his pinstriped and for some reason looking twice as expensive, completed by a tie that was a dark shade of crimson compared to the utilitarian black of the others. He was noticeably older than the other men, the jet black of his slicked back hair slowly giving way to the silver of encroaching old age. The way the other men carried themselves within his presence indicated his higher standing and judging by the way the usually gutsy gumshoe sat without offering any visible resistance told him the fellow had a way with words that could pacify even the most ardent rebel.

"_But just who the hell is he and what does he want with Angela?" _Jake wondered, asking himself if someone else other than Wesker had been watching them all this time and questioning if Jill, Carlos and Barry were being spied upon as well. Had someone else been out to get them all this time?

The scuffing of a shoe on the pavement distracted the hitman from his train of thought and before he could fully turn around, a pair of arms were wrapping around his neck, their owner trying to place him in a textbook sleeper hold.

It wouldn't be the first time this had happened to the hired gun and within seconds Jake was swinging his heel backwards into the man's shin. With the unseen assailant's grip slackening, he shot his elbow backwards into the man's side before grabbing him and judo flipping him over his shoulder.

Getting a good look at the attacker, it was a man around his age in a red and black jacket with a gray hoodie underneath, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a black and red baseball cap which fell off the back of his head.

"Just another bastard with a death wish," Jake muttered, only to feel a sharp prick in his upper back and then he began to jerk violently. Several thousand volts of electricity surged throughout his body, a vice grip clamping down on his muscles and leaving him with no other alternative but to hit the ground, a shuddering cry of pain escaping his lips before he finally blacked out.

XXXXX

"You alright Breckinridge?" Griffin Anderson asked his fallen colleague as he stood over the prone form of their target, the electrified barbs of his taser still buried in the man's back.

Chase Breckinridge felt carefully down along his shin, wincing at the fresh pain shooting up and down. It hurt like hell, but didn't feel broken, "I should be."

With a nod, Griffin spoke into a transmitter hidden beneath his jacket sleeve, "The target has been located and subdued. Get the van ready."

"_Roger that," _a voice came from the other end.

Making a hand signal, two more individuals emerged from their hiding spots, one of whom was pulling out a needle.

"Get the sedative ready. Nothing too strong, we need him alive," he spoke to the woman prepping the needle and then turned to the man, "Get the shackles ready. I've heard what this guy can be capable of."

"Yes sir," the man replied while the female operative carefully injected the sedative into Jake's arm, assuring he wouldn't be waking up again for quite some time.

XXXXX

Author's Note: Yet another twist? I'm becoming quite the evil bastard aren't I? Hee hee hee! What will become of our beloved antihero now that someone else apparently wants him? Tune in for the next installment to find out!

"Meaning in Tragedy" is another song title as I used in the last chapter, this song by As I Lay Dying from their "Shadows Are Security" album. The working title for this chapter was "Confined," another song from that same album.

Well I think I've rambled on long enough once again so until then, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	59. Ch 58: Deal With a Dragon

Author's Note: And so the end draws near! I've come this far and thus I'm going to finish this if it's the last thing I do! Now on with the story!

Chapter 58: Deal With a Dragon

**October 3, 1998**

"Oh..uh…where…ah…damn!"

A great pain instantly shot through his upper back as he slowly stirred back into consciousness, an invisible dagger being jammed into him from behind.

Jake ignored the searing pain the best he could as he rose to a sitting position and lifted his legs from the mattress he laid upon to a tile floor beneath him. Taking a deep breath, his head tipped back against a concrete wall and he jolted wide awake as another wave of pain shot from the back of his skull down his neck and then down his spinal column.

"What gives?" he muttered rubbing the spot on his upper back where the sensation emanated from. It suddenly hit him as he remembered the feeling from before, the last time when a guard had to subdue him while he was trying to defend himself against a group of white supremacists who jumped him in the shower block back at Almondville. Someone had used a taser on him.

Having rubbed away most of the numbness, he rotated his head, cracking his neck back into place and finally got a look at his new surroundings.

Once again he was in another sterile, nondescript-looking room, yet aside from the bed on which he rested there were no other furnishings.

_"A cell," _he told himself looking over to an electronically locked door in the corner.

"Now where the hell am I?" he muttered looking over to a two way mirror found in interrogation rooms, suddenly feeling exposed and finding himself going into a defensive stance. From the corner of his eye he could see what appeared to be the front end of a security camera covered by a protective glass dome. _"More importantly, who the hell has me now?" _he asked himself squinting at the glass, finding it too thick to see through.

_"We would really appreciate it if you would please take a seat Mr. Cavanaugh," _a voice called out from above.

Looking up to the ceiling, Jake now noticed a small microphone near the lone light fixture.

_"Must be more people who are 'connected,'" _he thought to himself, _"But to whom? Are they with Umbrella or are they more of Wesker's boys? Must be someone else, no doubt they would've killed me by now if they were with those slimebags."_

_ "Please take a seat Mr. Cavanaugh. We have some very important business to discuss with you and you may be here for a while. We look forward to accommodating you any way we can," _the voice spoke again, that of a man with a smooth, well-cultured Oxford English accent.

_"'Accommodating?' Heh, you have somebody jump me from behind and then lock me in a hole located in God knows where? Heh, you sure have a strange way of 'accommodating' people," _Jake thought narrowing his eyes towards the mirror, knowing the unseen speaker was likely standing behind it, probably grinning at him like a smug bastard in the process.

Jake said nothing and knowing he would probably get some answers the sooner he cooperated; he slowly took a seat on the cot and stared forward intently.

_"How are you feeling? I apologize for the rather…aggressive means in which we had to acquire you, but we simply could not take any chances," _the individual spoke.

The hitman remained silent to the almost patronizing remark. This whole ordeal was irritating him already and he would snap if he didn't get some answers.

_"Probably the Feds," _he thought to himself, remembering those black-suited men from Maple. _"They probably caught wind of me rubbing elbows with Wesker and want me to help bring somebody else down that pissed in their porridge."_

_ "Okay, we'll just get straight to business-" _the man spoke.

"Wait, first let me know who the hell I'm dealing with," Jake said breaking his silence, "The last bastard who wanted to do 'business' sent me straight into Hell on Earth and then tried to have me killed in the end when I wouldn't become his permanent bitch," he spat, unable to contain his exasperation as he thought of Wesker and the possibility of someone else doing this to him.

_"Sure thing," _the man spoke.

There was a low mechanical whirr and the hired gun's gaze was diverted to the wall near the entrance, where a portion slid aside to reveal a monitor and displayed on its screen was someone he was instantly familiar with.

It was the same guy he had seen Angela sitting with in the garage, same suit along with the same smug facial expression and all.

_"There will come a time for me to formally introduce myself to you Mr. Cavanaugh, but for now you may address me as 'Fortune.'"_

The warning bells went off inside of Jake's head and their piercing drone was louder than any nuclear explosion could ever be.

His thoughts were taken back to Sebastian Ramsey's diary and the repeated mentions of an unseen individual calling himself 'Fortune,' the head of an underground anti-Umbrella resistance group, a man with access to resources that enabled him to carry out acts of sabotage against their important researchers, a man hidden in the shadows preparing to deal the killing blow to one of the most powerful companies on the face of the earth.

Here he was now, talking to Jake through a live video feed.

In some senses he wasn't too far from what Jake expected, but the way he carried himself wasn't like that of a government official, more so that of a businessman.

_"And if he is a businessman, then what kind of 'business' does he front? Could he have his own firm for manufacturing walking death machines and just want Umbrella out of the way so he can dominate the market?" _Jake asked as his eyes narrowed towards the smirking suited man.

The middle-aged man ignored the hitman's sharp glare and resumed where he had left off.

_"Like I've said Mr. Cavanaugh, I have some important business to discuss with you, business that could very well change your life and countless others as well," _Fortune continued with the spiel before pausing, able to sense the interjection to come.

"Now where haven't I heard that line before? " Jake sarcastically replied rolling his eyes.

Fortune harrumphed at the criminal's comment and continued forth, _"I see you are not one for formalities. Very well, I shall cut to the chase. We are in the middle of a war, a secret conflict with the Umbrella Corporation. I am sure after this past week you've become mindful as to what they are really up to."_

Jake scoffed bitterly, "You don't even know the half of it pal, but if it involves Umbrella, then do continue. I wanna hear what those bastards are up to now."

Fortune cleared his throat before continuing, _"Umbrella was behind the Spencer Estate incident which occurred in the Arklay Mountains back in July, an incident which claimed the lives of seven teammates of some recent acquaintances of mine. As you already know they were responsible for creating the Bio-Organic Weapons that would escape and eventually overrun Raccoon City."_

The businessman's tone went from borderline condescending to grim, his sentences short and concise. Gone was his detached veneer, replaced by that of someone who perhaps had a personal stake in what had been perpetrated by Umbrella. Had he too lost loved ones to their madness?

_"Unfortunately, Umbrella has many powerful allies. They had bought out all of the major officials in Raccoon City, including Mayor Warren and the Chief of Police, Brian Irons," _Fortune continued in a darkening tone, _"It's not just them. Their influence extends to several elected representatives within the United States government and those of many other nations all across the world._

_ "High-priced lawyers, endless sources of income, and a whole hell of a lot more firepower than many standing armies could ever dream of, they could easily sweep the Raccoon incident under the rug and no one else would be brave enough to go after them, that is the cold, hard reality of the matter," _Fortune finished, giving time for his words to sink in.

Indeed they had.

Jake sat back with his head resting against the wall behind him, shutting his eyes and allowing the highlight reel to play through his brain.

He could see Will, the bartender from J's Bar, having his neck torn into by the very first zombie he laid eyes upon, followed by more of them pressing their faces against the bar's windows wanting to get in at the fresh meat, and then them systematically pouring their way into the bar, pushing himself and the other patrons backwards into the smallest corners.

Then there was the series of explosions on Main Street, leaving behind a series of smoking craters and with it, mangled bodies lying everywhere in sight.

The first appearance of that one-eyed freak with the rocket launcher soon followed, targeting a bunch of innocent civilians and for what purpose?

He swore he could once again hear the ragged, asthmatic breaths as he remembered his first encounter with the 'Licker' back at the Apple Inn, its skinless body and exposed brain, matched by its claws and lance-like tongue, using a superhuman sense of hearing to detect its prey. It was something that could only be described as manmade, created by some sadist who truly had to hate humanity in order to craft such a monstrosity.

It wasn't just the Lickers; there were also those bug-like freaks that tore the bank apart and then the ever present Hunters that had caused a great deal of trouble for the hired gun and those who traveled alongside him.

Then you had the one-eyed freak making its return, harassing him and Brad Vickers, later Jill Valentine at every turn, dead set on killing the remaining S.T.A.R.S. members and anybody who stood in its way.

William Birkin finally made his presence felt, now a mutated hunk of inhumanity, morphing into various forms of abomination as he stalked the man sent in to hunt him down, nearly ending his life on more than one occasion, up until their dramatic final encounter.

Lastly, there was Albert Wesker himself, wanting nothing more than to make Jake Cavanaugh his personal puppet. When the hitman refused, his heavily-armed goon squad appeared trying to end his life.

The montage of terror ended with the former S.T.A.R.S. captain's fiery demise, an explosion in the nighttime sky. For all he knew, that megalomaniacal son of a bitch was burning in Hell, a spot reserved for him right between Jack the Ripper and Adolf Hitler.

_"We've been waging a secret war against Umbrella for quite some time. We are hitting them with everything we can, anything to spill their blood as they have done to countless innocents. Unfortunately, we are dangerously low on manpower, weapons, intel and other crucial resources needed to carry it out. We are going to need all the help we can get with this endeavor," _Fortune further explained, his dark eyes furrowing at the hitman.

Jake could tell already where the man was coming from and broke their staring contest, "Let me guess, you want my help."

Fortune nodded in reply.

_"I've studied your files closely Mr. Cavanaugh and I am fully aware of what you are capable of. Thanks to some gifted hacking, plus the eyewitness accounts of those who fought alongside you, I was able to witness you in action in that underground research facility and I must say I was truly impressed by what I saw. You may be quick to sell yourself short as a 'common criminal,' but from what I saw; you would truly be a valuable asset to our cause."_

The man's final words caused the hitman to grimace, sounding eerily similar to Wesker's proposal just before he was double crossed.

_"I can sense your consternation, but I must assure you-" _Fortune continued only to be cut off midway through.

"Look, you're starting to bore me here so you might as well just cut to the fucking chase!" Jake grunted, figuring he might as well hear what the man has to say before something bad happens.

_"I'm looking to cut you a deal Jacob," _Fortune stated flatly, _"I know there are some people in this building that don't think you deserve this deal, but I for one do."_

_ "Man, these people sure are desperate if they're appealing to me of all people," _Jake thought, keeping his ears open and ready to listen further, "Alright, shoot."

_"We want you to help us bring down Umbrella and in doing so, I can personally see to it you are granted your freedom," _Fortune said leaning closer to his potential new recruit.

"Really?" Jake asked looking forward towards the mirror, his tone sarcastic and venomous, one of the same promises Wesker had made, "You can seriously do that for me?" he asked with a roll of his eyes.

_"Yes Mr. Cavanaugh, I will vouch to whoever I can," _the suited man replied, _"Spencer isn't the only person who has contacts within the U.S. government. I would take this offer more seriously if I were you," _he finished with a confident nod.

"And what if I refuse?" Jake retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. He still had a fishy feeling about all of this and expected something to happen, especially after the disrespectful front he had been putting on for the enigmatic businessman. Granted, Umbrella _needed_ to be stopped, but he had to wonder if this was the right man to trust.

Fortune stared quietly at him before an evil smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, _"I'm certain the authorities would be more than pleased to receive a wanted felon who has 'miraculously returned from the dead' on their doorstep. If you continue to adopt such a juvenile manner of addressing me, then believe me, I can make that happen as well. You better believe I am the one holding the key for this once in a lifetime opportunity you are being presented. It would be most wise for you to not insult my kindness."_

_"Let me talk to him. Maybe I can convince him," _a familiar voice called from the background, one that made the hitman perk up.

A loud ding suddenly came as the electronic door slid open and a familiar face stepped into the small room.

"Jill?" Jake asked flabbergasted.

"Hey," the young woman replied cheerfully.

Jill Valentine stood before him, alive and well. Gone were her street clothes, replaced by a combat outfit consisting of a light blue top with navy blue shoulder pads, baggy dark blue cargo pants, combat boots and a utility belt with various pouches, her Beretta held in a holster. No longer did she give off the impression of an innocent streetwalker caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, but now that of a badass soldier ready to rock and roll.

"What are you doing here?" the hitman asked as she stood before him, casually relaxing with her hand on her hip.

The woman bent forward placing her hands on her knees and spoke, "I accepted the same offer he made me. I too was suspicious at first, but he's managed to provide us with intel and access to several more underground sources that can help us out. From what I've seen so far, I think he seems genuine and I think you should take up his offer too.

"You and I both fought through the streets of that hellhole and you've seen firsthand the damage Umbrella is capable of creating. They've ruined countless lives and they will ruin more if we sit on our hands and do nothing. Somebody has to stop them and I have faith you can help us Jake. Please, help us."

Jake remained silent and looked away, letting her words sink in. He knew where she was coming from, but really didn't like the fact he would have to work with some other shady fellow. Even if these were the Feds he would be working with, they still carried the stigma in his eyes.

Then again, he felt a need to take down Umbrella.

Normally he tried to distance himself from conflicts like this, preferring to come and go as he pleased, but now something was clicking within, telling him he should help these people in bringing down the insidious corporation which had indirectly nearly ended his life.

"_I've never let anybody else spill my blood and walk away. Why should I start?" _he asked himself again looking back to Jill, her gaze silent and pleading.

Thinking of Jill and her oft mentioned teammates, they were survivors of the horrors created by Umbrella. They were warriors much like him, but with a purpose far different from what he was used to fighting for. It was a noble purpose for them to fight against the secretive conglomerate and they would need all the help they could get.

Jake was a lone wolf by nature who had survived various skirmishes with rival gangs all by himself, a few bullets, his hand-to-hand skills and his wits as his only allies. He had to be more self-reliant following the betrayal of his supposed best friend, never knowing when someone else would be looking to stab him in the back.

Then again, he had to remember it was Jill who found him when he had been knocked unconscious after being shot in the chest several times and falling down that flight of stairs. In his vulnerable state she could have easily looted him of his guns and ammo and then put a bullet in his head and left his carcass to be feasted upon by the zombies.

But she didn't.

Instead, she helped treat his injuries and get him back on his feet, staying loyally by his side to fight the zombies and other monstrosities until they were forced apart by the one-eyed freak. For some reason, she was able to trust him, a tall, dark and mysterious stranger, right away, whereas most others would have probably assumed him to be some degenerate up to no good.

Then there was the conflict with the H.C.F. commandos still fresh in his mind.

He had gotten lucky and managed to survive both a ghost town and a forest full of highly-trained killers who had him outnumbered and outgunned a million to one.

But then he had to ask himself, _"How much longer will that luck last?"_

Eventually he would get tired and run out of ammo, leaving him open game to some other group of heavily-armed killers looking to claim the bounty likely placed upon his head. If he were all alone there would be nobody to save his ass out of the blue.

Perhaps it could pay to work as part of a team for once in his life, give him a purpose other than being just some hired gun drifting from job to job. With Wesker out of the way he would be able to fully devote himself to the cause of bringing down Umbrella. Even if it would cause him grief, it would still be worth it to take down a few more of those assholes before the cold touch of Death came to claim him.

This could be his only ticket to freedom, or else he faced being turned over to the authorities.

Exhaling deeply he hung his head high into the air as Jill looked on worriedly. Slowly opening his eyes he turned to her and spoke.

"Fine, I'll do it," he said, but then suddenly shot his hand out and clamped onto the woman's wrist, much to her surprise.

"I'll only do it under one condition," he spoke pulling her closer, "I want nothing hidden from me. If I'm going to work for you I have to trust that you won't stab me in the back. I want to know everything that is going on no matter what. You do this for me and I'm yours until this bullshit is over with."

"Okay," Jill softly replied, "You have my word. I can't promise your life won't be in danger, but I can promise that you will be told everything upfront. Just give us a chance and we'll make it worth your while."

Jake could sense the sincerity in her words, something he couldn't have felt from previous employers. Already he began feeling at ease and loosened his grip on the woman's wrist.

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal," the hitman spoke taking Jill's hand in a firm handshake.

Rising to his feet, he stretched out his tensed muscles and followed the former S.T.A.R.S. officer out of the cell and into the adjoining control room. He wanted to whistle at the amount of high-tech gadgetry such a small ragtag group would have been able to afford, but then realized it was probably Fortune who had bankrolled the entire project.

"_They must not call him 'Fortune' for nothing," _he thought to himself, wondering if he had just wandered into a futuristic war movie, staring towards a bank of video monitors displaying what had to be satellite images of various locations around the globe, while others showed pirated feeds from various news networks and some were just random bits of technical jargon that could only be understood by the quartet of technicians in the room, each of them seated at a workstation with their fingers flying across their respective keyboards. Elsewhere in the room there were more technicians tending to what could only be supercomputers, their black surfaces dotted with flashing lights and meters giving off readings only understood by those tending to them. In the very center of the room was a large circular table where three more figures stood around talking amongst themselves, a touchscreen showing a map of the entire world on the table's surface.

"_I thought this operation was supposed to be 'ragtag' according to Sebastian. I can tell he was misled," _Jake thought staring towards the people in the center, one of whom was a woman of Native American descent with long black hair and clad in some kind of military uniform, talking between the others in a hushed tone while pointing to several spots on the touchscreen.

"I trust you've accepted my generous proposal Mr. Cavanaugh," the familiar voice of Fortune called out and he turned to see the black-suited man approaching him. Flanking him from his right was Barry Burton, now clad in a burgundy combat vest with a holster strapped to his shoulder that carried a huge .44 magnum revolver, and to his left a young woman in her late 20's with waist-length red hair pulled back into a ponytail and bright blue eyes, complimenting her light complexion and delicately-shaped face, looking more like she could have been a model in a soap commercial rather than a scientist or doctor, Jake guessing one of those having to be her specialty judging by the white lab coat she wore.

Without prompting the man offered his hand, "I am more than pleased to welcome you aboard."

"_The audacity of this man," _Jake thought to himself staring into the man's dark eyes and then down to his outstretched hand. The older man did not appear intimidated at all by him, leaving him to wonder if that was a good or a bad thing.

Fortune said nothing while edging his hand closer to him, silently calling for a handshake. It was an iffy move on his behalf since he still wasn't aware of the man's true intentions, not knowing whether he was really an Umbrella agent in disguise or truly a sympathizer who had an axe of his own to grind with the pharmaceuticals company.

Jake looked over to Barry and then to the nameless woman, who seemed like a good, upstanding individual and a trustworthy potential ally. Perhaps she too was another unfortunate soul who had survived Umbrella's horrors and wanted to bring them down for righteous reasons. He then looked over to the others in the room. By now the Native American woman was staring intently towards him, likely having overheard the conversation, and so were the other two people with her, one a tall, redheaded man who upon closer inspection was the same Fed-looking guy from Maple who had spoken with that researcher outside the hospital, and the other was the same man who had jumped him outside the garage just before he was knocked out, prompting a dirty look from the hired gun. Were they both really on the same side as him?

They needed a leader and this Fortune fellow appeared to have gained their collective trust, as evidenced by the manner in which they looked upon him. Each of them looked towards the hired gun as if they were egging him on to shake the man's hand.

His focus then shifted back to Jill, who also seemed to urge him forth. She appeared more anxious for him to do it, visibly fidgeting and blinking her eyes rapidly. He then looked to Barry, who pursed his lips and furrowed his brow mentally screaming "Do it!" at him.

"_This has to be the same guy who ordered me knocked out and then brought to some place in the middle of nowhere, but then again he hasn't had me killed yet," _Jake again thought before sighing heavily and reaching for the suited man's hand, he clasped it firmly and pumped it twice.

"Thank you," he muttered and drew his hand back quickly.

"I understand you may have your reservations Mr. Cavanaugh, especially after the way in which you were acquired, but I didn't want to take any chances and further expose my allies to any additional hazards after what had just occurred. It was an arduous task tracking you down, but I assure you it was for good reason. All I have to offer now are my humblest apologies and pray that we can brush this misunderstanding aside for the sake of continued cooperation."

"Take it easy; I accept," Jake replied, "I guess I'd rather be here than lying dead back in those woods."

A suave smile crossed the businessman's features and he nodded back, "Understood Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Please, you can call me Jake," the hitman replied.

"Very well, now that we have gotten that business taken care of," Fortune then motioned towards the woman, "Dr. Redmond here will show you to the infirmary. We will need to see to it that you are still physically healthy enough to assist us. When that is over, I request your presence in my office. There is still much to be discussed between you and me," he said before leaning closer to Jake, "A dialogue I would rather carry out one-on-one."

"Sure thing," Jake said looking towards the woman, who offered him a hand.

"Michaela Redmond, it is a pleasure to meet you Mister – I'm sorry, Jake," the woman quickly corrected herself.

"Likewise," Jake nodded as she led him away, her name also ringing a bell with the hitman.

The duo exited the control room and entered a hallway that looked like it belonged in some kind of fancy Victorian mansion with its mahogany wall panels, dark red carpeting decorated by intricate gold Oriental-inspired designs and expensive-looking curtains covering wall-length plate glass windows, flooding the hallway with filtered sunlight.

He walked with her further down the corridor and looked around to make sure nobody else was around before speaking to her, "Michaela Redmond, I've heard your name around before."

"From where?" the woman demanded, looking at him as if he had just grown a second head.

"Sebastian mentioned you, Sebastian Ramsey."

The woman's mouth fell open in shock and remained that way for several seconds before she finally composed herself long enough to speak, "Sebastian! You saw Sebastian?" she asked hurriedly, "Oh my god is he alright? Please tell me he is! I left Raccoon City without him and…oh God, I shouldn't have left him behind like that! Please tell me what happened to him!" she spoke sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Jake remained silent, his way of letting her know the outcome wasn't good. The tense silence continued until she finally started to put two and two together. She began to sob quietly before the hitman finally spoke.

"He didn't make it. I'm sorry," Jake replied, short and straight to the point. It wasn't the first time he had to inform someone that a person they cared about had passed away and he wasn't going to pain her any further by going into the explicit details of the young researcher's demise.

"Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have left him behind like that," she said to herself, "I should've gotten him and then gotten the hell out of that mess when I had the chance."

Deep down Jake felt bad for the woman and her loss. He remembered reading in Sebastian's diary that he had begun to develop a genuine romantic interest in his fellow researcher and pictured what things could have been like for them had they both made it out alive. It was a feeling he could relate to and gently placed a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder.

"It's not your fault. Don't beat yourself up over it. Umbrella lied to both of you. You did what you thought was right," Jake replied, not knowing if it would do much to assuage her guilt, but saying what he thought would help. "You will get your chance to bring them down for what they did. Mark my words, it will happen."

"I can only hope," she spoke in a half-whisper as they approached an elevator.

XXXXX

Jake Cavanaugh found himself led to what had been a very professional hospital examination room with a doctor and nurse on hand to conduct a thorough inspection of his entire body. Aside from various cuts and bruises, there appeared to be no permanent injuries inflicted upon him. In addition to the physical, he also found himself poked and prodded with a blood sample being extracted, as well as various skin samples being gathered to make sure he wasn't contaminated by any viruses.

Much to his relief, all tests came back negative, telling him the Daylight vaccine had worked.

Upon the completion of his physical, he was given another hospital gown and led into a decontamination room, where he had to stand naked in a shower-like stall and be sprayed over every inch of his body by a foul-smelling chemical and then blown dry by regular air. A guard was on hand to offer him another hospital gown and then lead him to an actual shower area.

It was something he had desperately needed and he was even happier to learn he would be able to take it as long as he liked. It had only been a few days since he received a shower, but once he finally felt the welcome relief of the warm water he realized it had felt much longer. He spent over an hour and a half scrubbing away greedily, bathing himself over and over again until he could feel his muscles melting. The knots accumulated from days of running, shooting and other physical exertion washed away. For what seemed like forever, it truly felt good to be clean and he knew this was a simple amenity he would never again take for granted.

As soon as he exited the shower area he was led to a small locker room, where a fresh pair of clothes awaited him, consisting of a generic black t-shirt, a pair of black trousers, socks, boxer shorts and a pair of black and white athletic shoes, thankful to be clad in something other than rags for the first time in days.

Now with a fresh pair of clothes, he could make his way to Fortune's office as requested.

Taking the elevator to the mansion's third floor, he made his way down another wood paneled hallway, this one lined with statues, paintings and other various works of art before approaching the door as instructed and knocking.

"Come in," Fortune called out from inside.

Jake slowly opened the door and found himself inside an ornately-furnished office that appeared to be devoid of modern appliances, the closest being a brass rotary phone situated on the mahogany desk in front of the plate glass window that took up most of the room's northern wall. It almost seemed as if he had literally stepped back into the 19th century.

In addition to the mahogany desk, the walls to his left were lined with bookshelves crafted from the same wood, filled with books that were likely old, yet still well-maintained, and to his right were a couch and two armchairs with a matching end table positioned between them. Hanging from the ceiling was a brass chandelier with its candles replaced by light bulbs, the second closest to modern feature in the room.

Fortune also had a taste for expensive artwork, the walls lined with many more expensive-looking paintings, mostly of impressionist and romantic origins. Among the painted landscapes was a portrait of a silver-haired man in a gray suit that bore a close physical resemblance to the businessman, perhaps his father. In addition to the paintings, there was an antique globe, a medieval coat of arms with two broadswords crossed behind it, a phonograph, and various sculptures positioned around the spacious office.

Jake was staring in awe at the collection when the leather swivel chair behind the desk spun around to reveal Fortune himself, in the middle of enjoying a cup of tea.

"So nice of you to finally make your presence felt Jake. Please do have a seat," the older man said motioning towards an armchair in front of the desk as he sat the teacup down onto a porcelain coaster. "I trust everything went well."

"Aside from being poked and prodded, I guess you could say it was peachy," the hitman grunted before taking his place in the chair and stretching out his long legs.

"We can never be too careful my friend," the businessman replied relaxing in his chair and rocking in it as he clasped his hands together, "With what you went through we couldn't risk creating another outbreak."

"I get it and I'm grateful you were able to have all that provided," Jake replied looking past the businessman, entranced by the marvelous beauty of the mountains and forests in the background his host had likely been admiring before the hired gun arrived.

"The Adirondacks," Fortune spoke up, taking notice of the hitman's awe at the natural splendor. "You are in northeastern New York. The nearest town is a little over an hour away, plenty of peace and quiet. I would also like to point out that you were out cold for the past two days. Not that such information has any relevance to the forthcoming conversation, but still I figured you would wish to be in the know regarding all that has transpired since we found you in that tiny mountain community, again my sincerest regards it couldn't have been under more pleasant circumstances."

"_At least he's been good about filling me in on all the little details so far," _Jake thought before speaking, "It's fine. Sure beats the hell out of being at the other place," he answered, his tone a little more relaxed, yet he remained on guard, sitting on the edge of his seat and leaning towards the desk with his hands on his knees.

Fortune chuckled at the comment before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk with his hands still clasped, telling he was ready to get down to business.

"Well you had me brought here, so what's up?" Jake asked temporarily taking his eyes away from the businessman to stare at the portrait of the nameless silver-haired man hanging on the wall behind them, intrigued by the man's intense dark-eyed stare, a trait his likely son had not inherited aside from their matching eye color. "Guessing you must have some kind of grudge against Umbrella, huh?"

Fortune pursed his lips at the word 'grudge' before replying, "You could say that would be the accurate term of describing my personal feelings towards them."

The businessman spun the swivel chair so he could look up to the painting behind him, yet Jake was still able to see him from an angle, the man's brow furrowed in deep thought.

"My father was a brilliant man," Fortune started, slowing his tone so his words would have time to sink in with his guest, "a man of ethics and compassion, one from a long line of researchers. He believed first and foremost that science should be used as a means of bettering life and solving the other ills plaguing our world.

"He was proficient in various areas of the scientific spectrum, but it was pathology that was his passion. Having seen much death in his younger years, he wanted to do what he could to study diseases and find the means to eliminate them.

"For more than 40 years he dedicated his life to his endeavors, traveling the world and learning everything he could. His research brought him much acclaim and he was recognized by many prestigious institutions for his contributions. To my father, it was never about the wealth or fame; it was about doing what he could to reduce human suffering."

"So then what happened?" Jake asked looking back to the portrait, "If he was so famous, then why doesn't anybody talk about him today?"

"Damnatio memoriae," Fortune curtly replied.

"What?" Jake asked, cocking an eyebrow towards the businessman and his foreign words.

"Latin," was the older man's reply as he turned to face the hitman, "It literally means 'condemnation of memory.' It is a practice dating all the way back to the Roman Empire, a form of dishonor reserved for traitors and other undesirables. Thanks to Umbrella's far-reaching influence, they have managed to all but erase my father's name from history."

Fortune's attention then turned to the bookcases at his right, lined with a vast collection of hardcover books.

"These volumes are all that remains of my father's legacy, a trove worth its weight in gold," the man spoke before reaching for his teacup and taking another sip.

"I take it he pissed off the wrong people?" Jake asked staring towards the bookcases.

"Ozwell E. Spencer and James Marcus," Fortune replied, remaining markedly calm as he uttered the men's' names, "two of the three founding fathers of Umbrella. There was Edward Ashford, yet he possessed neither the greed nor overzealous ambitions of power as the others. In the end, he was no longer around to be a menace, dying from a viral infection before the madness could begin."

Ozwell Spencer was a name Jake had heard mentioned in business magazines, the reclusive Umbrella C.E.O., but James Marcus and Edward Ashford were names completely new to him. Had they found their own names erased from the record books much in the same manner as Fortune's family?

"My father's accomplishments eventually caught their eye and they proposed a collaboration, an offer he initially accepted," Fortune continued, shutting his eyes and resting his head against the chair's headrest. "It was only three months later he rescinded, stating officially it was due to 'a lack of compatibility,' but he would later reveal to me the true reason," his tone growing darker.

"He learned of their true motives, how they wanted to learn how to synthesize and control viruses for the sake of warfare, dangerous weapons to be sold to the highest bidder. They showed an utter disregard for mankind, more worried about drawing in a profit. It was enough to make him sick. They had the perfect camouflage with Umbrella and by then, they had acquired enough political authorization they were practically untouchable. There was nothing more my father could do," Fortune explained, opening his dark eyes.

"It didn't end there."

Something big was about to be revealed and Jake swore he could see right into the man through the windows of his eyes and see the fire burning brighter within his soul.

"It was one dark and stormy night nearly 30 years ago; Father returned home unexpectedly early from what was supposed to be a six month stay in West Africa, where he was investigating a plague that had been afflicting the local Sodibaya tribe.

"I should have suspected something was up when he didn't come bearing the bouquet of roses he always had in hand for Mother when he returned home from one of his excursions. If that wasn't enough, he just brushed past her like she didn't exist when she rushed to greet him, ignoring her and making his way for his study," the businessman again paused, his dark eyes looking past the hitman at something that wasn't there.

"I will never forget that vacant look in his eyes as he walked past me. It was like he had come home a changed man, something nonhuman," Fortune's tone becoming ethereal as he uttered the word 'nonhuman.'

"It wasn't too much later, I was hearing the screams," he continued, looking far off as the images replayed in his mind.

By now most people relating such horrific tales would have been reduced to sobbing, hysterical wrecks, yet the businessman's veneer remained cool and stoic in a way that almost perturbed the hired gun. Perhaps the years had desensitized him to what had gone down that night; either that or he was really burning up inside, a talented enough actor to disguise his true emotions.

"I was in my room that night when I heard the screams and went to investigate," he paused again, "I entered to find blood everywhere and the dead bodies of our housekeeper Mrs. Canterbury and her granddaughter, both of them sliced apart by a blade. It wasn't just them, our butler Mr. Clancy, the gardener, the chef, our entire staff…all of them savagely butchered, but that wasn't the worst of it."

Jake stared hard at the older man as he knew the story would end with a bloody conclusion. Even for a man who had seen and dealt his fair share of violence, he still couldn't help but feel unnerved by the grim tale. Yet he remained intrigued, wanting the man to finish so he could perhaps be able to make sense of why his host had taken such an interest in him.

After a dramatic pause, the businessman resumed his tale.

"There was blood everywhere and it led to Father's trophy room. It was there I entered to find my father…standing over my mother with the same scimitar he had taken as a souvenir following his first trip to the Middle East, having hacked her to pieces…" Fortune trailed, emotion finding its way into his words for the first time during his soliloquy, "…again, all I can remember is that vacant look in his eyes, no longer himself, and then he saw me, ready to finish the job."

The businessman then reached beneath his desk and produced a turn-of-the-century coach gun.

"That very gun I used to kill my own father, not by choice" Fortune spoke leaning forward, "I've read about what happened to you Jake, how you too killed your own father. Unlike many others, I assume the circumstances were also far above your control. I am letting you know that I can relate to your story."

Jake bit down hard at the man's words. Normally, any mention of his abusive father would have sent the hitman spiraling into an uncontrollable rage, yet for once he found himself subdued, the most he did being gripping at the knobs of his armchair.

Fortune sat wordlessly across from him, unafraid of the backlash that would likely follow such a reference. Again, Jake found himself questioning how this man could be so cool and composed. It was a kind of demeanor that made him seem nonhuman; one so foreboding it almost reminded him of Wesker. He was left to wonder how anybody could work for this man with complete confidence.

"_Maybe all his fears died the night he was forced to gun down his father," _the hired gun told himself staring at the coach gun and then to the businessman, who patiently awaited his reply.

"Yeah, it's true," Jake answered, "My old man murdered my mom and then he tried to kill me. It was either him or me; drunken bastard is probably burning in Hell right now for all I care."

Fortune gave a slight nod, "We share a similar tragedy."

"I don't know how similar I'd say our 'tragedies' are," Jake countered, "Your father definitely didn't sound like the kind prone to rage like my old man was."

"As I stated before, it was something beyond his control," Fortune replied and again reached into his desk to produce a jar he sat in front of his guest.

The glass jar was filled with formaldehyde and floating within were the fragments of what could only be described as a giant leech.

"I found this 'specimen' after I gunned my father down. It had been attached to the back of his neck and tried to slither away, forcing me to kill it as well. Upon further examination; I found it secreted a pheromone that essentially enabled it to 'control' its victim."

"No doubt that had to be Umbrella's doing," Jake spoke up.

Fortune nodded, "That was a factor I wouldn't uncover until years later. All I had known was that someone out there had wanted my father out of the way and most likely, anyone closely associated with him.

"On that very night, I knew I wouldn't be safe as long as I was believed to be alive. As far as the rest of the world knows, the esteemed researcher Creighton Mandrake, his wife Helena, and their only son Joshua, all perished in a massive house fire, one I was forced to set in order to cover my tracks."

"And that leads you to where you are now?" Jake asked motioning towards the office they currently occupied.

"This is a crusade which has been years in the making my friend, years of planning, making the right contacts, finding the right circles of society, and learning how to be just as underhanded as my foes. It is a mission that will require powerful allies and that is why I have ordered you brought here," Fortune said again leaning back in his chair.

"Hmm, you sure are telling me quite a bit about this little outfit of yours," Jake said placing a hand on his chin and scratching at the forming stubble, "Why are you telling me all of this?" he asked, wondering why Fortune would entrust this kind of information to him if he knew of his shady past.

"Because I know you can be trusted," the businessman replied matter-of-factly. "I know of your criminal past, but I can sense that you are different from those in your chosen field, a man with your own sense of honor in an industry dominated by those without."

The man's words struck a nerve and Jake found himself suddenly beginning to develop an appreciation for his newfound benefactor. Whereas most would be quick to judge him because of his status as a convicted killer, Fortune was able to see past it and see the man beneath, a man who still possessed some goodness within his soul.

"I never intended to become a hitman," Jake said looking away, "It was just something I fell into. After I killed my old man there wasn't much else I could do with my life and in the end, I just kept digging myself in deeper with all the people I pissed off. The money was nice, but in the end it became more about survival."

Jake closed his eyes before continuing, "I never took pleasure in what I did. Sure, it felt nice to be taking out some real monsters, the bastards who got their kicks out of killing, raping and torturing others. At first it felt good to kill that sick pervert Melvin Edwards and that backstabbing prick Viper, thinking it would calm the rage within me, but in the end I felt nothing. Hell, I even took down that bastard who sent me into Raccoon and then double crossed me, yet still I'm not satisfied. I never had any idea revenge would feel so hollow."

Fortune rubbed his chin in deep thought before responding, "Nor do I. For me, it isn't just about revenge, it is about ensuring those fools can never again harm anyone else in the manner which they harmed my family. They must be dealt with. Granted we are forced to employ rather unorthodox methods to achieve our ends, but given the public support Umbrella enjoys, we have no other choice.

"Regardless of what anyone may say, we are fighting the good fight. In your own way, it seems as if you too were fighting the good fight in the sense that you targeted only evildoers. Perhaps you are more of a good guy than you give yourself credit for and it is for that reason I have extended this offer to you, knowing it would be an opportunity for you to take down some more of those 'real monsters' which you speak of. There would be nothing hollow about that end result, just countless innocent lives saved and an insidious corporation put out of business forever.

"For once in your life you would be fighting for something other than just yourself, a most noble endeavor," the businessman finished.

"I'm no hero," Jake sharply retorted, opening his eyes and looking away, "I've got too many skeletons in my closet; nobody would ever take me seriously. Fuck, nobody's gonna give me a medal if I help bust a few heads, they're just going to slap the cuffs on me and haul my ass back to the nearest cell, or worse," he said looking down to his arm, staring intently at the vein where the needle would go when receiving a lethal injection. "There's no way in hell some people are going to be willing to make a saint out of a sinner."

"I believe you told your reporter friend to tell the world that Jake Cavanaugh died back in Raccoon, right?" Fortune asked leaning towards him almost casually, "Think of this as another roll of the dice, a chance for you to start over with a clean slate. Nobody has to know who you really are or what you've done in the past, I can personally see to it."

"Sounds like something Wesker promised," the hitman muttered, only to catch himself when he realized he had uttered the deceased supervisor's name aloud, not knowing whether or not this seemingly all-knowing businessman would have been aware of his existence.

"There's a name I haven't heard mentioned in years, one Albert Wesker. He always struck me as the dubious type. I wouldn't have put it past him to order an unsuspecting fellow such as yourself into the kind of operation which he did," Fortune nodded.

"You know him?" Jake asked, cocking a suspicious eyebrow in the man's direction.

The businessman realized he had once again struck a nerve and stopped to carefully consider his words before continuing, "In order to acquire the vital knowledge I require for this operation, I was forced to associate myself with some questionable individuals, himself and Dr. Birkin being among them. I am fully aware of the duplicity he carried out against his subordinates at the Spencer Estate."

The mention of Fortune having associated himself with such a slimy bastard left a sour taste in the hired gun's mouth, once again leaving him to question the man's motives and furthermore, if he could actually follow through with his promises of keeping the authorities off his tail if he did what was asked of him.

"That association ended many years ago, around the time Dr. Marcus went missing to be exact. I knew things were becoming too precarious and was forced to disappear back into the shadows before they could become suspicious," the businessman explained further, "The circumstances of the doctor's disappearance I was never made aware of, but I'm sure he is no longer among the living."

"And neither are those two bastards," Jake added, "What matters are that those two fuckers are dead and gone forever."

"And there will be many more to follow," Fortune replied with a nod.

"Just remember not everybody with Umbrella is bad," Jake mentioned, remembering characters like Sebastian Ramsey, Harriet Blanton and Michaela Redmond, "It's only a matter of weeding out the good from the crap."

"Indeed it shall be, a meticulous process, yet worthwhile," the businessman smiled, "There are still plenty of new allies to gather for the forthcoming war and we must remain ever vigilant. I trust fully that the people gathered here are fully committed to the mission at hand, some of whom I believe may know you."

"_Wonder who they could be," _Jake thought to himself, able to name Jill, Carlos, Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield, Sherry Birkin, Kevin Ryman and Alyssa Ashcroft off the top of his head, but no one else. He could only wonder who else could have made it out and if they had learned anything in regards to his true identity, something he knew would create drama once uncovered. _"Not everybody is bound to keep their mouth shut when they've just survived a massive disaster."_

"I feel I've kept you long enough with my long-winded dialogue, perhaps I shall leave you free to mingle with them at your own convenience. Feel free to become acclimated with your new surroundings and get yourself situated. I imagine it's probably been a while since you've had a decent meal, a hot shower and a decent night's rest," the erudite businessman said rising to his feet and motioning towards the door.

"Heh, you're not kidding around about any of that," Jake chuckled.

"Very well," Fortune said before again extending his hand, "Believe me Jake, I am truly grateful for your assistance. I honestly cannot tell you which the duration of our association shall be, but rest assured I will be straightforward with you at all times and will do what I can to accommodate your needs."

"Thank you for everything," the hired gun replied returning the man's handshake.

In spite of his words, there was still a cynical side thinking the businessman sounded like a typical snake oil salesman, preying upon the next sucker to take his bait, wanting to use him in the same manner which Wesker had, and then chew him up and spit him out once he's gotten what he wants.

However, there was also the calmer, more optimistic side that wanted him to trust Fortune, likely in the same manner he had managed to win the trust of Jill and his other associates. Jake had to respect the fact that the man was fearless enough to mount an offensive against the mighty Umbrella Corporation in spite of all the hurdles that would stand in his way, likely playing to their desires for revenge and justice. He had to admit, the man had a way with his words.

Turning on his heel, the hitman exited the office and made his way back into the corridor, where Dr. Redmond was emerging from another room, suddenly stopping herself and staring intently at him.

"How did it go?" the young woman asked, her voice a half-whisper.

"I'm still alive aren't I?" Jake sarcastically replied before adopting a more serious tone, "I have to admit he's got quite the silver tongue."

"Indeed the man has a way with his words," Michaela replied walking alongside the hitman, "I had my own reservations when he first approached me, but the more he spoke, the more confident I felt," she added as they approached the elevator at the end, "especially given what I would've been going up against. I'm still surprised I managed to make it out of Raccoon with the way Umbrella seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere."

"Fortune must know what he's doing if he's able to find a blind spot like that," Jake said letting the former Umbrella researcher enter first before climbing in behind her.

"Yeah, all that matters now is I want to make those bastards pay," Dr. Redmond said pushing the button.

"They will pay. Believe me, they will pay," Jake replied as they made their descent.

XXXXX

Author's Note: I know this chapter was entirely lacking in the action department, but as of right now that's all pretty much behind us as the end draws near.

Fortune is a character I only mentioned briefly in the original story, but now I've decided to flesh him out more in the rewrite. He's intended to be my answer to Trent from the RE novels, the mysterious benefactor giving out everything the heroes need to know from the shadows. In a way I could use him as a means of explaining the earliest origins of the B.S.A.A. that would appear in later games, given that they would need someone with a healthy bank account in order to carry out their said endeavors.

In a way I would also say Fortune is inspired to an extent by Morgan Everett, the Illuminati leader in the original "Deus Ex" game. It was a bit of a challenge to write him because I wanted to do what I could to make him sound highly intellectual and cultured.

The nameless Native American woman mentioned in the control room is supposed to be Caroline Floyd a.k.a. Willow from Echo Six in "Operation Raccoon City."

Well I think that's everything so until then read and review as always! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	60. Ch 59: Burying the Hatchet

Author's Note: And so the final regular chapter of "Darkness Arises: Reborn" has arrived!

Yes, you are reading that right! After well over 4 years things are finally coming to an end and I wish to give a very special thank you to all of you who have added this story to your "Favorites" and have stayed on with me throughout the entire ride.

Without further ado, it is now time for the final regular chapter and with it, on with the story!

Chapter 59: Burying the Hatchet

Jake Cavanaugh drifted through the hall in a near euphoric state, his belly full and his breath minty fresh.

For the first time in days he had been able to sit down and enjoy a full meal.

His mind drifted back to just minutes earlier when he had been sitting in the dining room at the end of a table long enough to accommodate twenty people, literally feeling like a king. It seemed Fortune was really going overboard in his attempt to win the hitman's trust, but as long as there were no zombies busting through the double doors wanting to get at him or any mercenaries pointing guns in his face, he didn't care.

His feelings of mistrust were quickly overpowered by hunger the second the aroma of a freshly cooked meal found its way to his nostrils. When the butler came through the side door wheeling in a cart with a large tray hidden beneath a metal dome, he found himself wondering if he really had won ten million dollars and was now reaping the fruits a newly-acquired fortune.

There was no time for words as the covered tray was placed before him and the cover removed to reveal a professionally cooked gourmet steak lying before him, accompanied by side orders of fries, coleslaw, a slice of orange and a small chocolate brownie, all looking oh so scrumptious to him. For a man who had spent an entire week surviving on snack food and having to look over his shoulder with every bite he took, he truly felt blessed and wondered if there had been someone out there watching over him.

With careful precision he cut through the succulent steak and took his sweet time enjoying every little bite. Never before had a slab of well-cooked meat stood out this much to him, but it reminded him how he couldn't take such simple pleasures for granted, especially the ecstasy of being able to wash it down with an ice cold Mountain Brew.

In the end, the entire plate was empty, even consuming the entire orange slice, a small feat for a man who typically did not enjoy eating fruit. It came as a surprise that he was still able to enjoy a full meal after everything he had witnessed in Raccoon City; particularly the way zombies had torn human beings apart right before his very eyes.

He quickly shrugged the thought off as the same butler returned to collect his tray, giving him a toothbrush, dental floss and a tube of toothpaste. It would be another small pleasure for him to be able to brush his teeth for the first time in over a week. Making his way to the nearest bathroom he performed his 'business' and then afterwards proceeded to brush his teeth for well over ten minutes, stopping when his breath smelled of nothing but mint, leaving him feeling like a new man.

Now for the first time in over a week, he finally had some time to relax, yet he had no idea how he would.

He remembered thinking to himself that once he escaped Raccoon he was going to celebrate by going to a Requiem concert, then going out to the nearest bar and get absolutely shitfaced drunk, followed by him getting laid afterward.

Well here he was now, alive and well, yet he doubted he would be able to go through with those plans. If Fortune could afford to have a state of the art control room, private medical facility and a butler on hand serving him five star quality steaks, then he could damn sure afford advanced security systems meant to keep him and the others inside. Given the nature of his recent escapades, he was sure the businessman would have wanted to keep him on a tight leash.

"_Sure limits my entertainment options," _Jake thought to himself strolling down the hall with his hands in his pockets, _"Oh well, at least you're still around to complain about it."_

The hall he strode through was a plain shade of light gray and devoid of the artwork and antique furnishings Fortune seemed to be fond of, looking more like he was moving through a typical office building. He eventually happened across a sign telling him there was a recreation room just down the hall. Hoping there would be some form of entertainment there, he continued forth.

"You mean to tell me all this time we worked alongside a wanted felon?" a disbelieving voice called out as the hired gun approached an open door, "I still can't believe it!"

"_Looks like he made it out of Raccoon after all," _Jake told himself, hugging the wall alongside the entrance as he recognized a voice he hadn't heard in days.

More importantly, the cat was out of the bag in regards to his true identity and the fallout was still spreading throughout the compound.

David McGraw's tone was one filled with hostility, something he knew to expect if the word had ever gotten out. Given what had been going on in Raccoon, he knew people would be more preoccupied by what was going on around them, but still he questioned how long he would be able to carry out his charade in a building full of police officers. In all truth, he was surprised he had been able to carry it out for as long as he had.

"You should be thanking the man David," Alyssa Ashcroft's voice followed, "If it weren't for him, a lot of us would have died back in that shithole!"

"Yeah, Alyssa and I owe him big time," Kevin Ryman's voice chipped in, "He saved my ass more than once, not to forget he was also able to provide us with plenty of information we can use against Umbrella."

Jake quietly peeked his head through the opened door to find David McGraw pacing back and forth. Gone was his S.W.A.T. uniform, now replaced by a casual blue and black plaid shirt and dark blue jeans, his short brown hair spiked up and his appearance clean shaven.

The officer halted in mid step, turning on his heel to address his friend and colleague, "The guy's a wanted fugitive Kevin!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands at his sides, "How can you take his side without a second thought? Don't you realize he could've tried killing us at any given time he wanted to? I've heard of this man, he's an ice cold murderer and a cop killer on top of that! If I would've known who he really was, I would've knocked his ass out and hauled him off to the nearest cell."

"I'm not taking his side," Kevin protested, rising to his feet from a nearby sofa. His appearance too had changed drastically with his semi-long, typically shaggy dark hair now slicked back and his face also freshly shaved. He wore a pair of blue jeans, a dark brown leather jacket and a red and black plaid shirt underneath. "In no way do I condone what he's done in the past and do I honestly believe he should be allowed back onto the streets? No."

The former beat cop then exhaled deeply "I honestly can't believe that I'm saying this either, but he proved to be a much greater help than we expected and in some ways, I think our presence is a testament to that," he said gesturing towards Alyssa, who sat on a couch in a light brown sweater and blue jeans. "He was probably just as much a victim as we were. He told us why he was sent in and with the way things turned out, he was practically sent to his death."

"After everything he did for us, I trust him," the voice of Sara Quigley drifting into the equation, the medic hobbling into view aided by a pair of crutches, "He doesn't seem like the scumbag some people make him out to be. He braved a wilderness filled with heavily-armed commandos to save me more than once; I don't think that's something a cold-blooded bastard would do."

"I still don't know what to think," McGraw replied crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the nearby window, "He could turn on us at any given minute, especially now that we all know of his secret. We need to remain vigilant."

"_No more use in hiding then," _the hitman said to himself stepping into a large room that almost reminded him of a chapel with its cathedral ceiling, large windows and multicolored lighting fixtures. There were several large couches and armchairs situated at the front of the room near a grand stone fireplace. For entertainment, there were two pool tables, a small circular green-topped table with six chairs present, two pinball machines, two arcade games, an electronic dartboard and in another corner a sleek black baby grand piano. There was a bar at the back of the room with six stools, two of which were occupied by men with their backs to everybody else.

When he saw the ponytail of the first man, he instantly knew it was David King, the quiet plumber from J's Bar. The other was a much larger bald man with every inch of his exposed skin covered in tattoos.

Everybody else was gathered towards the front of the room. In addition to McGraw, Kevin, Alyssa and Sara, Mike Forrester, Robbie Marin and Samantha Russell were present, as we two other individuals he had never seen before, one a male of African descent and the other a woman with short blonde hair and dressed in a somewhat provocative outfit that made her look like a cross between a soldier and a teenage mallrat.

"Didn't know I was that popular around here," Jake sarcastically chimed, making his presence known.

Everybody turned their attention towards him, most of them displaying looks of surprise, while David King and his companion at the bar regarded him with casual indifference before returning to their drinks.

David McGraw, the very man he had fought alongside and saved from death on more than one occasion, remained in position with his arms crossed, glaring daggers into him.

"Well here I am," Jake motioned to himself. "Do continue where you left off. I'm truly interested in hearing what you have to say."

The former S.W.A.T. officer glared at him silently, furrowing his brow and clenching his fists.

Shaking his head, the hitman walked into the room, pushing his way past the two nameless occupants. "Come on, I'm right here!" he shouted, again motioning to himself, "You had something to say, right? Or are you too chicken shit to say it to my face?"

He moved in until he and David McGraw stood nose to nose.

"Well, what's it gonna be?" he asked.

Deep breaths were the officer's only reply, sounding as if he wanted to explode.

The onlookers stood silent in fear as neither man showed any signs of backing down, one driven by feelings of betrayal and the other by hostility at being confronted once again. Numerous sets of eyes darted back and forth between the two men waiting to see who would throw the first punch, knowing this would be no small scuffle, but an all-out battle between a trained S.W.A.T. officer, who also happened to be an ex-Marine, and a deadly contract killer whom they had witnessed in action against the B.O.W.s.

"All along you were nothing more than a goddamned criminal," David seethed through clenched teeth, "You lied to us!"

"_A law dog that actually has the balls to say it to somebody's face," _Jake thought, _"and he actually acts tough one-on-one. Then again, he's gotta be damn good to have survived Raccoon."_

"A 'liar' that actually saved your sorry ass," Jake replied in a cool tone, "A wise man would be thankful for such a convenience, but I guess a 'pig' wouldn't qualify."

McGraw growled at the derogatory slur and grabbed for the hitman's collar, but Jake brought his hands up to deflect his efforts. Before a single punch could be thrown, there were several pairs of hands latching onto the angry cop and pulling him backwards, Kevin, the African man and the injured Robbie fighting to restrain him while Samantha stepped in front of him pleading to calm down. It took a few seconds before he was finally pinned down to one of the couches, both men standing in front of him and raising their hands whenever they thought he would move again.

"David, you need to settle the fuck down at once!" Mike shouted, pushing himself up in his wheelchair, only to be halted by the nameless blonde-haired woman.

The belligerent officer ignored the pleas of the other occupants and tried to shove his way back to his feet, only to be halted by a hard slap to the face from Alyssa.

"Both of you stop this bullshit at once!" the reporter screamed, shooting a filthy glare back and forth to both men. With both warring factions quieted down she thrust herself between them, keeping her arms at waist level in case she needed to raise them.

"We can't be fighting each other, especially at a time like this! You want to make it that much easier for Umbrella?" the woman shouted to both men and then looked around to the others before continuing, "We barely survived Raccoon and we sure as hell didn't accomplish it by being at each other's throats-"

"Back then we didn't know we had a convicted killer in our midst either," McGraw spat, only to be silenced by Kevin and the African man clamping their hands onto his shoulders.

Alyssa shot the officer another dirty look before finishing, "We have a lot more on our plate to deal with and whether you like it or not, we're all going to be working together to help bring them down."

The assertive investigative reporter turned and studied Jake closely before returning her attention to McGraw, "David, I understand Jake is a criminal and you're not high on the idea of working with one, but we have no other choice. He might be a convict, but he's still an extra hand and knows his way around a gun. What matters right now is that he's willing to help and we need all the help we can get."

David still glared hatefully in his direction, but remained composed. Samantha quickly took a seat next to him and wrapped her arm around his, whispering something into his ear. The former R.P.D. officer nodded at her unheard words and they both left the room.

The room was left silent again with everybody staring blankly at him, much to his annoyance.

"What?" Jake snapped, causing the others to leap backward in fright.

"_Guess I'm back to being the 'big bad wolf,'" _he thought, watching as a few of the other occupants filed out of the room, only Kevin, Mike and the African man being brave enough to stay as they gathered around to converse amongst themselves in another corner of the room.

With a quiet shrug he strode over to the bar and walked behind the counter, snatching up a shot glass and a bottle of Scotch. Pouring a pint into the small, insular glass he gulped it down in one full swig, exhaling as the liquid slid down his throat.

David King and the nameless big man sat at the end of the bar still nursing their drinks. Both men could sense Jake's eyes upon them and turned to meet his gaze.

"Obviously you're aware now," the hitman mused reclining casually against the bar while pouring himself another drink.

The former plumber scoffed, "Everybody has their skeletons in the closet. God or whatever's out there knows I sure have my fair share of them."

"Heh, yeah I bet Johnny Law over there has his too, he'd be lying if he didn't," the bald man chuckled, a strange black tribal tattoo now visible, covering most of the right side of his face, as he turned to address Jake.

"And who are you?" Jake asked, taking in the numerous tattoos covering the big man's arms.

"Erez Morris," the man replied, "You can call me 'Harley,' that's what my teammates call me."

"What kind of team?" the hitman asked suddenly taking notice of a black sash with a white cross on the man's beefy right arm, "Luciferians? Road Demons?"

The biker laughed heartily, "Luciferians? Those pussies! Heh, I whipped my fair share of their punk asses back in the day. Nah, I don't roll with the boys on the open road anymore. I'm a medic now, Spec Ops," prompting Jake to stare at him as if he had just grown a second head.

"Yeah, I know I don't look it," the man now called Harley replied, noting the hired gun's puzzled expression, "I only signed up to avoid a jail sentence, still provides all the skull busting fun a 'restless soul' like myself could ever need."

Jake smirked in reply before returning his attention to David, "And how about you? How are they twisting your arm to ensure your cooperation?"

David finished his drink before answering, "They're not. After all the shit I saw in Raccoon you could say I've been itching for taking down a few of those Umbrella shitheads."

"Amen to that, somebody's gotta bring those fuckers down," Jake replied as Kevin and the others got up from their seats and walked out.

"So how the hell did you end up in Raccoon?" David asked, the normally solitary man looking to carry on the conversation.

With nothing more to hide Jake spoke, "I was sent to whack some high-ranking researcher with Umbrella, some William Birkin guy."

"Birkin, hmmm, I thought I overheard something about guys from another unit being sent in to grab some scientist guy, must've been him," Harley said placing a hand to his bearded chin.

"Yeah, well somebody else wanted him dead and they offered me ten million dollars upfront for the job," Jake finished.

The biker-turned-medic whistled loudly at the amount, "Ten million dollars, holy sheep shit somebody sure hated that guy alright," Harley whooped before looking over to David, "Christ, I wish there was somebody command hated enough to send us after for that much money. I already don't get paid enough for the shit I put my neck on the line for."

"No kidding," Jake grunted, "I fought my way through that zombie infested shithole, only to find out halfway through that Birkin was supposedly dead. Next thing I know, I'm being knocked out cold and somebody's leaving me a note telling me he's still alive. I fought my way through a police station and the sewers before I reached this weird underground lab Umbrella had, that's where I met up with Kevin and Alyssa."

"What about Birkin?" David inquired while pouring himself another drink.

"He was there alright, and he wasn't the wimpy scientist I expected," the hitman replied.

"Another one of those zombie-type things?" Harley asked.

"No, he was this freaking giant with large claws and this huge extra eye, something straight out of a child's nightmare," Jake replied.

"Weren't they all?" Harley chuckled bitterly.

"Yeah, well what matters is I killed the fucker alright," Jake replied before looking back to David, "I escaped with Kevin, Alyssa, some other cop named Leon, this girl looking for her brother named Claire and Birkin's daughter, Sherry."

"Damn," David replied, "Sent on a suicide mission. Did you ever find the bastard who sent you in?"

"Yeah, and he ripped me off in the end," Jake grumbled, only to smirk a second later, "That's okay, in the end I blew the fucker out of the sky," he said pantomiming firing a missile into the air, "Paybacks are a bitch."

The ex-plumber chuckled darkly while Harley let out a mock gasp of fear, "Definitely not somebody to be crossing, good thing you're on our side."

"I really don't think of myself as being on any side to tell the truth," Jake said pouring another shot, "I'm just me in my own little world. I go where the money is and then move on," he said before downing his liquid.

"Me neither," David replied, "I only care about survival. If being with a group of people can up my chances, I'll go where they go. As long as they don't try anything funny, everything will be alright."

"Well if you're around them long enough for them to prove they're not two-faced snakes in the grass, you might as well hang around them for as long as you can," Harley added before looking down to his wristwatch, his eyes suddenly widening, "Shit, the game's on!"

The medic shot his hand out for the remote lying nearby and switched the wall-mounted TV set on, which was currently in the middle of a press conference broadcasted on AGNN, just as a suited man was shown walking away, a forlorn look on his features as his attendants followed after him, the text at the bottom of the screen reading in big bold letters _"PRESIDENT MIDDLETON ANNOUNCES RESIGNATION."_

"Wait, leave it!" Jake shouted shooting his hand in front of him to halt his companion from changing the channel.

"_There you have it; literally just seconds ago President Hugh Middleton announced his resignation after serving half of his second term in office. There has been no official reason given for his sudden resignation, but it is largely believed that his ordering of the 'Bacillus Terminate' operation in Raccoon City is the main cause, citing his recent plummet in public opinion polls._

"_As of late, the White House is refusing to answer any further questions. It is expected that Vice President Rufus Farnum will step up to succeed the departing Middleton."_

The scene then switched to the exterior of the United States Capitol, where throngs of reporters were shown rushing towards an arriving shuttle bus with their cameras flashing and microphones raised in hopes of getting a word from the occupants onboard.

"_In other news, investigatory hearings are scheduled to begin against Umbrella Incorporated, a company which has been accused of being behind the mysterious plague sweeping through Raccoon City._

"_Company representatives have refused to comment publicly on the matter, but it is known that survivors of the incident have arrived and will testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee."_

The survivors were shown piling out one by one and Jake quietly observed the litany of familiar names and faces coming back to him.

Out first was Mark Wilkins, the bulky, level-headed security guard, bringing his meaty hands up to shield his eyes from the simultaneous eruptions of camera lenses, followed by Jim Chapman, the jumpy subway attendant, then college students Eric Sampson, Miranda Bennett and Elza Walker, a heavily-bandaged man whom he soon recognized as rookie R.P.D. officer Kyle Rawlings, two African-American males, one of whom looked like the same firefighter he saw the Apple Inn survivors talking with following their escape from the burning hotel, followed by a stocky Hispanic man assisting a dark-skinned woman on crutches as she struggled to make her way down the stairs, the same woman he pulled to safety after she was shot by that sniper, and they were followed by the final passenger, the sight of her causing the hitman's mouth to fall open.

"_It can't be! She fell to her death!"_

Somehow, there stood Yoko Suzuki, looking very much alive and exiting the shuttle, quickly whisked through the horde of ravenous reporters by two security guards as she and the others made their way up the steps towards the Capitol. It was only when he heard the reporter's voiceover that he again dared to blink.

"_The hearings are expected to continue for quite some time and already there rumblings as the judiciary committee is chaired by Vermont Senator Russell Graham, a vocal critic of the Umbrella Corporation, leading to questions as to whether or not the proceedings will be able to be carried out in a fair, impartial manner-"_

"Hey, I thought you wanted to watch that!" Harley shouted as Jake reached up and switched the TV off, "Make up your mind kiddo!"

"Well now I've seen enough," the hired gun muttered, looking out the window towards the nearby lake, where he could see Angela Cataldo walking along the dock and taking a seat on a wooden bench.

"Hey, I'll talk to you guys later. I've gotta do something right now."

XXXXX

Angela Cataldo sat alone on the bench staring at the crashing waves beneath her, entranced by their rhythmic motion. She had always been fond of the ocean and had spent a great deal of time staring at it when she visited her grandparents' summertime cottage in eastern Maine, her entire family uniting for one big shindig every summer up until her beloved 'Nonno's' passing.

"_Nonno, Nonna, Uncle Maury, Auntie Stanzi, Donnie, Gino, Cici, Mom, Dad…and now Tony," _she thought to herself, running down the list of family members no longer among the living, her eyes moistening when she reached her beloved brother's name.

She looked up from the lake at seemingly endless forests, which would have normally been a beautiful shade of green, followed by the changing colors of autumn, but most of these trees were already bare. If it had not been for the glorious mountains in the distance, all would have been lost. Being in the woods brought her peace of mind, a welcome change of pace from the hustle and bustle of city life. It never failed to calm her and she was thankful her recent experiences in the rural mountain community of Springvale had done nothing to dull nature's effect upon her.

The detective sat in deep thought as she admired the splendid beauty that surrounded her, wondering if she would ever see anything like it ever again.

The young woman knew she was about to embark upon a major campaign against an international pharmaceutical conglomerate, one that would be costly and left her wondering if she would come back alive.

It would be a great burden, but it was one that had to be carried out for the sake of innocents everywhere, those who were unaware of the company's true insidious nature, the first to fall if something wasn't done.

"_This war will be won," _she thought to herself, _"I swear upon the graves of everybody who perished back in Springvale. We are coming and we will win this war for their sake."_

So deep was she in thought the young detective didn't make out the heavy footfalls on the wood coming from behind her.

"Enjoying the weather, huh? Might as well while you can," a masculine voice called out from behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, her eyes widened when she noticed Jake Cavanaugh standing there, now wearing a black and white windbreaker jacket.

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here, you know that?" she spat as the criminal walked past her and stood at the edge of the pier with his hands in his pockets.

"What? Can't a man enjoy the scenery every now and then?" he replied with his back to her, his tone almost smug.

The detective growled and her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. She had to do everything she could to not leap up and shove the man into the icy water. "What the hell do you want Cavanaugh? Haven't you caused enough trouble already?" she spat through clenched teeth.

Jake shook his head and turned to face her, "Don't you ever give up? You're starting to sound like McGraw now.

The hitman's casual indifference caused her rage to boil beyond control and with a loud scream of rage; she launched herself towards the man drawing her fist backward, ready to drive it into his face.

Jake saw her attack coming and brought his muscular wrist up to block her attempted strike, wrapping his other arm around her throat and then pinning her other arm behind her back, placing her in a painful submission hold. Labored breathing followed for a few moments afterward as the hitman choked her until her face was turning blue. Feeling he had made his point, he released his grip and let her fall to the wooden surface.

"If you're going to keep this up, next time you won't be so lucky. Quite frankly, I'm starting to not care whether or not I end up getting kicked out because you're really starting to annoy me," Jake spat as he watched the woman pull herself towards the bench she had been sitting on.

Rubbing her sore throat, she gagged harshly before pulling herself back onto the bench. "Damn it Cavanaugh, what do you want?"

"To talk like normal human beings for once," he said flatly.

"What? Why the hell should I talk to you of all people? You murdered my brother you bastard!" Angela huffed, but then quickly froze when she realized she had called him yet another derogatory name, fearing he would probably make good on his promise of killing her in her weakened state.

"Like it or not we're going to be working together, so you might as well stop being a bitch and start learning how to be a team player," Jake spat, "Yeah, I can't believe I'm saying that either, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes if it means I can help bring those Umbrella bastards down."

Normally Angela Cataldo would have knocked somebody flat on their back for referring to her as a 'bitch,' but even with all her kickboxing and police training, the hitman was far too strong and seemed to be one step ahead of her in terms of both speed and training. She could only stay on guard and watch as the hitman studied her closely, but then suddenly looked off to the side scratching at his stubbly chin.

"Cataldo?" he asked aloud, rubbing his chin in deep thought, "Tell me, are you by any chance related to a Cataldo from the N.Y.P.D., a Sgt. Anthony Cataldo to be exact?"

"What's it to you?" she spat, only to receive a sharp glare.

"It's just a simple question," the hitman spoke in a darkly condescending tone, "Are you always this hostile towards everybody who tries carrying out a conversation with you?"

The detective felt another wave of anger coming on, yet remained anchored to her seat, perhaps and involuntary reaction to what she knew would follow if she tried leaping out at him again, though she was able to move her head to look downward at the water in front of her.

"Yes, he was my brother," she replied, her tone straddling hostility and sorrow.

"I thought so," the hitman spoke with a snap of his fingers, "I do recall your brother now. From what I heard, he was quite a good cop, some even saying he might be 'Chief' one day."

Anger and pity burnt within her soul as she felt so helpless within the presence of the very man she had set out to deal with away from the red tape and politics associated with standard police work, the kind of justice that would take years to carry out and could easily be tainted by corruption. Now she could do nothing except sit there.

Furthermore, she found herself feeling confused as to how this man could have recited the same line several of her co-workers had uttered in the past.

Jake began pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back as the facts came flooding back to him.

"Ah yes, I do recall seeing the news broadcast of how he saved that family from a gang of drug dealers that had taken them hostage during a standoff with police. I heard he received quite a few commendations for it. I also heard how he personally busted Big Daddy Cy, one of the city's most notorious drug kingpins."

It wouldn't end there as the hired gun would delve into several personal facts.

"I believe he was also a lover of the Marinaro Wines of southern Italy, had a personal preference for Russian arms over American guns any day of the week, obsessed over the Minutemen going all the way to the World Series, and even wanted to save up for his own private retreat deep within the Canadian wild."

Angela sat bewildered as the hitman recited tidbits about her brother like he had known him for years.

Who was he and what did he know about Tony?

"How do you know all this stuff about my brother?" the detective demanded.

Jake ignored her question and stopped in mid-sentence, "Hmmm, come to think of it he did mention something about having a sister. Yeah, a younger sister who was a cop herself…" he said turning to face her.

Angela froze when the man leant down sticking his face into her personal space, "I believe he told me her name was Angela! Yes, that's where I remember your name from!"

The detective felt her blood chill and swore she could feel the color draining from her skin, "H-H-How did you know? How could he have possibly told you such things? Why would he talk to you of all people about his personal life?"

Jake stared deeply into her eyes and spoke, "Because your brother and I worked together."

The news hit the woman like a freight train and she nearly fell off the bench.

"No! No that can't be, he would never associate himself with such filth!"

Again the hitman remained silent, knowing he had to let the information sink in before speaking again, "I'm afraid it's true. Your brother was a bent cop."

"You're lying! Tony was an upstanding cop! He hated criminals with a passion!" Angela shouted in disbelief, tears running freely down her pretty face.

"Looks like you didn't know your brother as well as you thought you did," Jake replied turning his back to her again and looking off into the mostly bare woods at the opposite side of the lake.

"What? How the hell can I know you're telling the truth? How can I believe you after the way you lied to all those people back in Raccoon about who you were?" she screamed angrily, hatred burning brightly in her eyes. It was only the knowledge of his physical strength and him having a few tricks up his sleeve that prevented her from assaulting him over such allegations.

Jake turned around and reclined casually against the railing, "You brother was an errand boy on the side for Ewan O'Bannon."

Indeed that name rang a bell right there. Ewan O'Bannon was the leader of the Irish-American O'Bannon Mob, once a powerful organization that controlled most of Manhattan and had a strong presence in Boston, but would lose most of its influence in the '70's and '80's due to unstable leadership, infighting and gentrification.

"He did small jobs on the side for us," Jake continued, "him and two other guys, Don Kennett and Edwin Travois."

Now he was mentioning names that made sense. Both officers were members of Tony's department that had been indicted for corruption and racketeering, including suspected ties to organized crime.

"He told me he only did it because Old Man O'Bannon was able to offer him more money than the N.Y.P.D. could ever pay, but I suspected he had ulterior motives," Jake explained taking a step towards her. "He and I did a few jobs together, mostly going after two-bit hustlers shaving off more than they should have been and smaller gangs encroaching on our turf, took out a few of Mancini's guys here and there, took on the Blood Moon Tong and Aztecas too, killed a few guys on each side while finding ways to blame the other."

That also made sense. The Blood Moon Tong and Aztecas had been involved in a bloody gang war a few years back, Angela experiencing one of their skirmishes firsthand during her days as a patrolwoman, finding herself out of ammo and pinned down behind the body of a gang member until help arrived. It was suspected that the murder of a high-ranking member from one of the parties had been the cause behind the conflict, the exact details only being known by someone intimately involved.

"He actually seemed like an alright guy…until he crossed the line," Jake continued, his tone darkening.

Angela was almost afraid to ask, yet forced herself to, "What do you mean?"

Jake's eyes narrowed as he turned to meet the detective's gaze, "One night a couple years back, he approaches me out of the blue wanting to perform a hit.

"Apparently there was a detective on the force becoming suspicious of his 'extracurricular activities' and wanted him dealt with, some Mosher guy. He offered me good money for the job too, gave me everything I needed to know about his daily habits, favorite hangouts, known acquaintances, the whole nine yards, would've been a cakewalk," the hitman suddenly exhaled deeply before finishing, "I told him I wouldn't do it."

Again the detective stared awkwardly towards him.

"What do you mean you wouldn't do it?" she asked in puzzlement.

"Tony said he didn't want any witnesses. If I found anybody else in the guy's house, they were to be eliminated at once. Turns out the guy had a wife and four kids, I don't kill children. I refused and told him to 'fuck off,' but he wouldn't listen. He didn't want any of the guy's kids seeking revenge when they were older, but I still told him I wouldn't do it," Jake said looking away in disgust.

Angela found herself wanting to vomit at the revelation.

Roy Mosher had been a vice detective in Tony's precinct and was above all an honest cop, a rarity in today's world. A mysterious fire had broken out at the man's home with all of the family members trapped inside, just days before he was scheduled to present his findings of an internal affairs probe before the commissioner. It was upon further investigation things took a sinister turn, both Detective Mosher and his wife being found in their bedroom shot execution style, with their children found scattered around the house. Deep indentations had been found in their necks, but due to the fire damage the kind of murder weapon could not be pinpointed, suspected to be some kind of wire though judging by the smoothness.

This was information that only the killer, or someone close to the killer could have known.

Could her beloved big brother have really been capable of such barbarism? Or was Jake Cavanaugh lying to her again, using Tony as a cover up for one of his own heinous acts?

"I still don't know if I should believe you," the detective defiantly replied, her heart winning the battle over her mind.

"Well believe me, your brother did it," Jake replied standing his ground, "I was there when your brother shot a 16 year old kid dead, all because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time after he took out a Blood Moon pusher."

Angela had received extensive training in interrogation during her time in the academy, learning how to pick out the signs given by someone who was lying and now she was studying Jake Cavanaugh's body language closely.

"_His breathing is calm and he's not sweating bullets. He's not twitchy as hell, his voice is smooth and he's looking me directly in the eye…" _she thought to herself, noting the man's relaxed, non-defensive demeanor, but still there was the part of her not wanting to believe he could possibly have been telling the truth.

"I know it'll be hard for you to swallow, but it's the truth. I might be a killer and might have lied to the others about my identity, but I would never lie about something like that. You might not believe me, but that's your problem if you don't. I'm not gonna get myself killed trying to change your mind," Jake finished.

Angela did not reply immediately, listening to the crashing of the lake's waves. She stared silently at the hired gun and allowed her mind to process everything she had been told. All this time she had been convinced this man was her mortal enemy and that she would do everything in her power to kill him and avenge her brother. It was that single thought that drove her to the wilds of northern Minnesota hoping to find this man and put a bullet in his skull, a dogged obsession if there ever was one.

Now she found herself conflicted, everything muddled in a way that nearly drove her crazy.

For the first time ever she was beginning to question her feelings towards her own brother, the very man whom she prominently displayed a picture of in her living room that showed him as a six year old boy, holding her on the day her parents first brought her home from the hospital, the man who protected her with his every fiber up until he left for the police academy. He was always there for her no matter what and seemed to be the most genuine, down to earth man she had ever met.

Could he truly have been capable of deceiving her and the rest of their family like that for all those years? Was there always a monster hiding deep within the depths of his soul, one that would be capable of ordering the brutal murder of an entire family? How could she not have noticed something was wrong?

Her attention returned to Jake, the stoic hitman standing in silence. Was this all some sick game he was playing? Was it his intention to torture her, to drive the dagger deep into her soul and twist it even further? Could he have truly killed him in cold blood?

The detective squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at her temples as the questions sped through her mind at a manic pace. She reminded herself that she needed to focus or risk going crazy like most survivors of traumatic events on the scale of Springvale likely go through.

"Why did you kill him?" she suddenly asked, her words coming out involuntarily. As soon as she heard her own voice, she shot her eyes open and looked away, her cheeks burning brightly.

Jake pulled down his collar and showed a thin scar that ran across the left side of his neck. "You see that? He did that to me. He broke into my apartment, jumped me from behind and tried to slit my throat. I killed him out of self-defense."

"Was he ordered to?" Angela asked.

Jake nodded, "Yeah, but not by Old Man O'Bannon."

"Then who?"

"Giuseppe LoTruglio," the hitman answered.

Giuseppe 'Joey' LoTruglio was the head of the LoTruglio Family, one of the most feared mob bosses in all of the United States. The man was known as 'The American Caesar' for his aggressive expansionist tactics, a trail of bloodshed following his storied rise to the top. He was considered untouchable thanks to his vast connections and wealth, his shady empire fronted by various legitimate business ventures. If the money didn't shut a person up, he was rumored to be known for some brutal intimidation tactics.

"How did you find that out and what would he have wanted you dead for?" Angela asked, her tone becoming a little less hostile.

"Your brother didn't come alone," Jake continued, "He had four other guys with him, all of them had been cops on the O'Bannon payroll, turns out they decided to jump ship on us.

"The last guy, heh, he sang like a bird after a few broken bones, told me they were out to get me and a bunch of other high-ranking family members, get rid of all the 'worthless micks' once and for all and take their 'paltry empire' with it. Your brother had been working for them the entire time as a mole. They figured I was one of the bigger threats and wanted me out of the way first, that plus I 'allegedly' messed around with one of Old Joey's daughters. None of them could get the job done, and it was all done in self-defense," Jake repeated the last part, knowing he was going to come around to the subject of Tony Cataldo's murder.

Judging by his firm tone, an element of truth rang in the man's words. Although the thought of her beloved brother being a corrupt cop was still something hard for her to get her head around, she found herself beginning to settle down and want to hear more of what Jake had to say.

"Whatever happened to LoTruglio? I know he vanished well over two years ago and his empire has been falling on hard times ever since his son Bobby took over. Do you know anything about that?"

A thin smile crossed Jake's features and he gave an assuring nod.

"You didn't?" she gasped.

"I did," his reply was blunt and to the point.

"You killed him? How? He was one of the top figures in the criminal underworld, he was practically untouchable!" the detective rambled before catching herself.

"Heh, not as 'untouchable' as he thought," Jake casually replied, "Shortly after that stunt with your brother and the other bent cops, me and…another guy decided to pay him a 'personal visit' at his nightclub when we knew he would be there, he was a creature of habit after all." The 'other guy' in question was Viper, but the hitman refused to mention his name aloud, not wanting to find himself flying into another rage and wanting that two-faced prick's name to just vanish from human existence.

"What happened then?" the detective asked, steeling herself for the explicit details that were likely to follow.

The hired gun scratched his stubbly chin as he pretended to jog his memory for details, "Well, let's just say a few of his boys needed some body bags and then we decided to take him for a little ride in the country. He got cocky with us, so we had to introduce his face to the business end of a few bullets. Afterwards, we gave him the cookout he was dying for. He's probably wolf food by now."

Now that made sense right there. There had been a shootout at the Palazzo Degli Dei, a high-end nightclub owned by LoTruglio, several of his men being killed and the Don himself disappearing. Three days later, the burnt out husk of a Mayback AG was found near the Canadian border, similar to the kind Joey LoTruglio was known to own. There was evidence a body had been present, but was nowhere to be found. Foul play was immediately suspected.

"So that's what happened to one of our country's most notorious crime lords," the detective muttered to herself.

"Believe it," Jake nodded before taking another step closer, "Look, I didn't come here begging for forgiveness. I only came here because I wanted to give you my side of the story. What I did was done entirely out of self-defense and that's the damn truth, nothing cold blooded about it. I know you probably can't stand the sight of me or ever forgive what I did, and quite honestly I don't expect you to. If we're going to be working together, then all I'm gonna ask is that you keep cool until this shit is over with."

The hired gun turned on his heel to walk away as Angela stared at him quietly until she mustered the will to speak up.

"I forgive you."

Jake stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, surprised by her sudden change of heart.

"You're right, I might not be able to forgive you for taking what was left of my family, but I know a liar when I see one and from what I can tell, you've been telling me the truth. I can't condone his actions either. I can't hate him because he's my brother, but I can't ignore that he brought shame upon our family name and betrayed his sworn duty as an officer of the law. How he could do such a thing, I have no idea," Angela said looking away in shame.

"Maybe I was wrong for tracking you down the way I did. If I'm going to move on with my life and we're going to be working together for a greater cause, then I can forgive you."

"I understand," Jake nodded in affirmation, "I know what it's like to lose a big brother."

The hired gun pulled up his pant leg to reveal the scorpion tattoo covering his lower right leg, most of it now marred by the three jagged scars inflicted by the Crimson Head.

"My brother Ryan was nicknamed 'Scorpion,' probably the toughest man I ever knew. He pretty much raised me, gave me the guidance my drunken asshole 'father' could never provide. He was killed right before my own eyes by some piss ant Cazadores, took away the one person I knew would always be there no matter what.

"Believe me, I share your pain. This tattoo was the only way I could think of to honor his memory, one that will remind me of him no matter what happens," Jake said pulling his pant leg down.

With his peace spoken, the hired gun made his way up the short flight of wooden stairs and along the dirt trail back towards the mansion, only to find himself stopped by two more individuals, one a Caucasian man who was a few inches shorter than him with short brown hair worn slightly longer than a typical soldier cut, and the other a fair-skinned woman in a brown leather jacket with her flame red hair worn short, tomboyish yet attractive.

"Jake Cavanaugh?" the man asked.

"Who wants to know?" he demanded.

"Crispin Jettingham, Spec Ops Echo Six," the man saluted before offering his hand.

"Marissa Ronson," the lady spoke, also extending her hand.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jake asked, looking around to their peaceful surroundings, "Here for some R&R?"

The male soldier chuckled, "Nah, we're here helping with Fortune's campaign. Turns out he's friends with our commanding officer, so I guess you could say we're 'on loan' at the moment.

"Anyways, the intel guys wanna speak with you. They need all the info they can get," he said motioning for the hitman to follow them.

"So the government's planning to do something about Umbrella after all?" Jake asked as he began walking with the duo.

"Pfft! I doubt that's gonna be the case," the woman replied, a crisp British accent evident in her tone.

"We honestly don't know for sure yet," Crispin added, "Umbrella's got its slimy fingers in the pockets of quite a few governors, congressmen, senators, you name it, most of them big company shareholders. Trying to authorize any kind of action past them would be like going uphill on Mount Everest."

"Doesn't surprise me one bit," Jake nodded, remembering Raccoon's Mayor Michael Warren and Chief of Police Brian Irons.

"Yeah, well Fortune has agreed to help with that too, trying to reach out to anybody that isn't knee deep in bullshit. Gonna be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but it's a task he's willing to take on," Marissa added.

"Good to know. Somebody needs to stop those bastards after all the shit I saw in Raccoon," Jake grumbled as they approached the mansion.

"We know what you're talking about. We were there too," Marissa replied.

"Yeah, I heard," Jake answered, "I was talking with one of your guys inside, Harley."

"You mean he was actually sober enough for you to get any kind of information out of him?" the woman laughed.

"Yeah, we were sent in to rescue civilians and to uncover any incriminating evidence that could implicate Umbrella as being behind the outbreak," Crispin continued, "We found it alright, that and their leftovers."

"You also can't forget those spooks we kept bumping into," Marissa added, "Bunch of Umbrella lapdogs sent in on some cover up mission. Annoyed the shit out of us to no end, believe me I was ready to do the happy dance when I finally put that one big oaf down, 'Beltway' I believe was supposed to be the cute pet name they gave him."

"Yeah, out of all the Spec Ops guys sent in, we were the only ones who made it out alive…barely," Crispin finished ruefully.

"No amount of training could have prepared anybody for what went on in Raccoon," Jake said looking upward to the massive window of Fortune's office, able to see the businessman staring back at him, offering an assuring nod that made him feel at ease.

"_You'd better hold up your end of the bargain Fortune, you'd better," _he thought to himself, knowing there was one favor he would have to ask of him before accepting any missions.

"Right this way," Crispin said opening the door and holding it open for his companions.

XXXXX

"-as of right now, it has been confirmed that Leon Kennedy has been retrieved and is currently in the process of being interrogated," Griffin Anderson continued as Fortune stared out the window, observing his newest acquisition meeting up with Echo Six operatives Crispin 'Dee-Ay' Jettingham and Marissa 'Tweed' Ronson.

"And what of the others?" the businessman inquired turning to face his associates.

"The girl was with him and is in protective custody right now," Chase Breckinridge reported, "There was no sign of Redfield anywhere. For all we know, she could be trying to find her brother."

Fortune sighed heavily as he looked over the two men, both of whom were former U.S. SOCOM and Delta Force respectively, two of his best agents. With them were three more individuals, an auburn-haired Caucasian woman, a tall, lanky African-American male, a youthful-looking man with shaggy sandy blond-colored hair, and lastly a behemoth of a man standing tall at six feet six inches in height with short, fiery red hair. These six individuals had been directly responsible for the capture of Jake Cavanaugh.

"We must do what we can to locate her. Having her out in the open is too precarious," the businessman spoke.

"With all due respect Mr. Fortune, we won't be able to commit to that right away. We are spread too far thin as it is, not to forget we just lost Ganton the other day," said the woman, Carrie Scalia, a former Secret Service agent.

Fortune nodded at the mention of August Ganton, an undercover operative who had been charged with infiltrating a suspected Umbrella facility in northern Norway by posing as a researcher to gain intel on the specific activities occurring. Somehow, the higher ups had caught wind of his charade and he attempted to escape, only to find himself cornered from all angles. In the end, he took his own life rather than face the brutal interrogative tactics that would have followed.

The knowledge of Fortune's secret organization had died with him, but still the businessman had taken it hard, as he did with all of those who died while under his watch, contrary to what his cool exterior would lead others to believe.

"I understand your concerns Ms. Scalia and am forced to agree with you. We will need to do what we can to locate her brother. He will make a most important addition to the campaign," Fortune nodded.

"Last I heard, we think Argyle might've made contact with him through an online message board," Chase added, "We don't know for sure yet."

"Whatever the case is, track the connection and also, ask Ms. Valentine and Mr. Burton if they might be aware of any possible hideouts. We need to find him at once," Fortune pressed.

"Yes sir," the former Delta Force operative nodded and made his exit.

"Any marching orders for us yet, oh-so-gracious almighty overseer?" called out the high-pitched squawk of Dewayne 'Dewey' Murphy, earning stares of annoyance from both Carrie and the behemoth.

Murphy's often flippant behavior annoyed the businessman to no end, thinking he had to be a standup comedian even in the midst of battle. Despite his exasperation, he tolerated the former naval petty officer due to his near encyclopedic knowledge of electronics and communications.

"You and Gelzer can start making preparations for Loire Village. We need to set up a rendezvous with LeRoi," Fortune replied, more so intent on wanting to get the communications expert out of his hair.

"We're on it," spoke the behemoth, a former professional football player turned Army weapons specialist named Marcus Gelzer, looking towards his companion and silently motioning for him to follow.

"I'll be on my way too," Griffin said rising from the antiquated armchair he occupied, "I'll have a few phone calls to make. That Kennedy kid is going to need someone to watch out for him and I have an old war buddy who could help. Good guy, really knows what he's doing."

"Guess we should be taking our leave too," Carrie said rising to her feet and looking towards the sandy blond-haired man, "C'mon Kirk."

"Very well," Fortune nodded as his subordinates made their exit. When the door closed behind Kirk Waterman he spun around in his swivel chair, looking up to the portrait of his beloved father, Creighton Mandrake.

"_At last Father, the pieces are finally beginning to fall into place. Soon you will be avenged," _the businessman said to himself.

He turned around and as he did, he caught sight of the coach gun always kept beneath his desk. Whenever he looked at it, he was taken back to that night.

"_I know that wasn't you that night, Father," _he reminded himself, noting the vacant gaze in the older man's eyes, even as he was in the midst of brutally murdering his wife. The thought never failed to depress the now middle-aged Fortune and it had taken years of intensive mental training for him to avoid collapsing into the blubbering emotional heap anyone else would have.

Still, his humanity was not lost and his emotions remained. It was only when everybody else was gone that he allowed the solitary tear to creep from the corner of his eye, one which was quickly blinked away.

His thoughts then turned to the preserved giant leech in the jar kept nearby, something he looked at every day of his life, another reminder of that night.

It was a reminder of his failure.

"_Was there anything else I could have done to resolve this? Could I have removed that leech without having to kill him? Damn it, Father would still be alive if I could have found a way to pry it off of him," _Fortune thought, balling his fists.

It was a symbol of penance.

"_I had to do what I could. Father wasn't himself. If I hadn't done what I did, he would have killed me as well," _he told himself, forever reminded of the way in which he had to end the attack, by his own hand.

It was a symbol of resolve.

"_It wasn't long after I found out who did this," _Fortune told himself as he looked down at a souvenir of one of his earliest triumphs, an antique gold pocket watch that had belonged to Merlin Sherwood, a trusted confidante of his father who had betrayed him, introducing the leech that would turn him into a soulless drone.

Sherwood had been an alert individual and it was through careful digging he learned of his involvement in the plot to destroy his father. In order to bring him down, the man who would become Fortune had to be twice as cunning.

Unfortunately for him, Sherwood's cautious nature made him a creature of habit and having spent years around him, the young man knew of his likes, including his favorite tea. Growing up the son of a researcher who worked extensively with exotic plants, he was able to learn a few tricks of the trade along the way and introduced a special concoction to the man's daily tea that sent him into immediate cardiac arrest.

It wasn't the exact way Fortune had envisioned the traitor's demise, but he knew given the man's connections to the Umbrella hierarchy it would have to be discreet and thanks to his time around Sherwood he knew of his recurring heart problems.

"_That pocket watch was an heirloom passed down several generations through his family. As long as I have it in my possession I can be reminded I took something from him, much in the same manner he took something from me," _the businessman told himself as his gaze returned to his father's portrait.

"_They didn't just kill you, they killed your legacy along with it," _he added, sparing another gaze towards the bookcases carrying what remained of his father's works.

It had been Ozwell Spencer and James Marcus themselves who had convinced the scientific community that his father had been conducting horrific experiments upon living people at locations as far away as Edonia and Finland, procedures so ghastly his name was erased from virtually all publications and his citations rescinded.

Little did everybody else know, they had callously used his good name as a cover for their own atrocities and they had the resources to make sure no one else could learn the truth.

It was because of such slanderous acts young Joshua Mandrake was forced to die along with his parents in that house fire on that terrible night, knowing he would likely find himself hunted down based upon falsehoods, just for 'being the spawn of a monster.'

From the 'death' of Joshua Mandrake, the man called 'Fortune' rose from the ashes like a phoenix.

To those who knew, Creighton Mandrake was a name associated with cruelty and madness, no traces of the kindness, dignity and strong moral center that had been known from beforehand.

Soon that would change.

"_Your legacy will be restored if it's the last thing I do Father, mark my words," _he declared, knowing only the frail old Ozwell Spencer remained. Given the reclusive billionaire's vast network of resources and contacts, it would be unlikely he would be left alone in a dingy prison cell.

No, he would have to die. He would have to be sent straight to the fires of Hell, no midway stops.

Fortune was broken from his current train of thought as his eyes happened across a small picture on his desk, one of his beloved mother Helena in her younger years.

Helena Mandrake was a peaceful woman who only saw the good in people. Fortune could hear his mother's voice in his head, asking him if he would have been any better for engaging in such means to bring down his enemies.

"_They must be dealt with. As long as they remain, they will continue to terrorize and murder, many more falling in the same manner as you and Father," _Fortune mentally replied as he looked down to the manila file resting before him and opened it.

Inside was a dossier of his latest member, Jacob Randolph Cavanaugh, also known as 'the Red Dragon.'

"_A 'hitman' they call him, a soul whose life has been tainted by darkness, brought upon by events far beyond his control._

"_Many have fallen by his hand, some purposely and others by sheer accident through the path he has chosen. To those around him, he is nothing more than a cold-blooded killer, one without honor and mercy, one who would be seemingly condemned to spend eternity within the deepest bowels of Hell._

"_Yet I am able to sense something beyond his façade, something of a far more redeeming nature._

"_Beyond a harsh, foreboding exterior, I am able to detect a subtle kindness and compassion about him, one who is not entirely devoid of morality. Despite his chosen profession, he never targets the innocent on purpose, even going as far as having saved a few lives in the past, not of fellow criminals, but of the weak and innocent. Furthermore, he never robs those of their most sentimental possessions, allowing peers to leave the world with what truly belongs to them._

"_Jacob was never intended to follow this path. Goodness remains within his soul and he has been granted a great power with which he has the potential to do so much good in the world. He is not too far gone; there is still time for him to be led to his true destiny."_

Fortune closed the file and looked ahead as he remembered something he had heard repeated countless times before.

"_There are those who say 'everything happens for a reason,' maybe he was brought to me so I could shepherd him to his true calling."_

In a way, it made the businessman see a parallel within himself.

Joshua Mandrake had to die and be reborn so he could begin his campaign against Umbrella; now the wanted hitman Jake Cavanaugh had to die so he could begin life anew as a warrior fighting for a just cause.

"_This is something he can do. He will have to look deep within himself to claim that strength he never knew he had. This is just the beginning of his rebirth."_

A knocking interrupted Fortune from his thoughts and his eyes now focused on his office door, "Come in."

"Uh Mr. Fortune, you weren't in the middle of anything were you?" the timid voice of Davis Argyle asked as the diminutive man peeked his head in, his wavy brown hair messy as usual and finding himself having to push his glasses back as they slid down his nose, another common quirk he possessed.

"Not at all Mr. Argyle, how may I be of service to you?" the businessman replied while relaxing in his chair.

"Actually I'm here on behalf of someone else," Argyle replied stepping into the office, "I've just spoken with Mr. Cavanaugh and he has a favor to ask of you."

"Very well, what is it that he requests?"

XXXXX

Author's Notes: And so ends the final regular chapter of "Reborn," a project over 4 years in the making! With the end of this chapter I bring an entire shit ton of random notes that I'm going to have to search through from top to bottom to make sure I get every little thing covered.

"Requiem" would be the name of a fictional metal band, Jake being a hardcore metalhead like myself. *Throws up the 'Devil horns' in the air*

The rest of Echo Six also appears in this chapter. The "tall African man" I didn't name is Lawrence "Shona" Kimbala, the group's field scientist and the "woman with short blonde hair and dressed in a somewhat provocative outfit that made her look like a cross between a soldier and a teenage mallrat" is Sienna "Party Girl" Fowler.

I initially didn't plan to have all of them make it out alive, but it wasn't until I finally saw the "Triple Impact" trailer of "Operation Raccoon City" on YouTube and I figured I had to at least try to expand upon them, so that's that with them.

Senator Russell Graham is the future President Graham from "Resident Evil 4." Here I made him a Senator, thinking he likely would have held some other kind of political office before ascending to the Presidency.

Yoko suddenly returning from the dead? That's something I'll have to explain at a later time.

If I had to say Angela Cataldo were physically inspired by any real life celebrity, I would base her around Cobie Smulders from "How I Met Your Mother," based upon her portrayal of S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Maria Hill in "The Avengers."

The scene where I describe Angela having had to hide behind the dead body of a gang member to avoid being shot was inspired by the scene from "The Walking Dead" where The Governor shoots Axel dead and Carol is forced to hide behind his body while it's riddled with bullets.

Marcus Gelzer and Dewayne 'Dewey' Murphy are not entirely original characters, the only things original being the forename I gave Gelzer and Dewey's full name.

Both of them were deleted characters who were supposed to star in RE1. Gelzer was this giant with a cybernetic right eye who was supposed to be inhumanly strong and there was supposed to be a scene where he held up the ceiling to prevent it from crushing Jill, he was later redesigned as Barry. Dewey was a guy inspired by Eddie Murphy and was supposed to serve as the comic relief, able to make you laugh even in the midst of great horror. I guess they figured Gelzer would have been too futuristic and unbelievable and that Dewey's humor would have been out of place in a survival horror game. In a way, my inclusion of them is a "what if?" scenario.

Well I think that's pretty much it and as always, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	61. Epilogue: Last Goodbyes

Epilogue: Last Goodbyes

**Two weeks after the events of Raccoon City**

Grayish-black clouds hung overhead, foreshadowing yet another round of heavy rainfall that had been battering the area for the past week already. It was the perfect backdrop for a small cemetery and the doom and gloom associated with such a place.

Many of the trees were left bare as winter made its approach, adding to the innate theme of lifelessness, contrasting with a few lively pine trees scattered within the cemetery's stone walls. Tombstones of all shapes and sizes lined the landscape, many with bouquets of flowers, small statues and other knickknacks lying in front of them, left in tribute by the grieving loved ones of those inhabiting the graves. There was a small hill towards the back of the graveyard with a family plot where three individuals gathered, the approaching storm doing nothing to deter them from their task.

The three individuals, a man and two women, stood around the gravesite of Mary Cavanaugh, described as a 'beloved mother' by the epitaph. Bowing their heads in a moment of silence the trio produced bouquets of orchids, daffodils and roses, much like the flowers planted in their mother's garden when they were growing up.

"Happy birthday Mom," the older of the two women spoke, gently laying her flowers before the stone.

The younger woman knelt to the stone and placed her hand on it, clutching her crucifix necklace with her free hand. "Happy birthday Mom, wherever you are we hope you are happy."

It was the man's turn to speak and it took him a few moments to compose himself before he bowed his head and whispered softly, "Mom, we still miss you and love you. We hope you're all reunited at last."

The man then looked to his right where the next stone simply read _'Steven Cavanaugh'_ and listed his dates of birth and death. It was plain and simple, nothing more. To have listed he were a 'loving husband,' 'a devoted father,' or a 'war hero' would have been poorly disguised lies in the eyes of his family, therefore they kept it simple enough to avoid the shame associated with him.

Sighing deeply, the young man blinked away tears forming at the corners of his eyes and stood up to face his sisters, also struggling to suppress the oncoming waterworks. With a collective nod, they turned to face a grave to the right of their father's, one that had been largely neglected save a solitary flower pot with fading plastic flowers in it. Inscribed was the name _'Ryan Cavanaugh,'_ along with his date of birth and death followed by a quote he was often known to recite, _'In a world of endless change, the only constant is the love for your family,' _passed down to him by their maternal grandfather.The older of the two sisters reached into her long burgundy coat and produced another bouquet, satisfied in knowing someone was thinking of him.

She then looked over to her younger sister, who produced a long, thin box and opened it to reveal the three bright red roses inside.

The younger woman stared at the roses in her hand, knowing he would have loved them as red was always his favorite color. She looked over to her siblings and waited for their nod of approval, feeling deep in her heart it was something that needed to be done regardless of the consequences that could follow.

Turning around she knelt down and placed the roses before a small wooden cross that bore the name _'Jacob R. Cavanaugh,' _followed by the words _'beloved brother.'_

"Do you think anybody will say anything?" she asked looking uneasily back towards her siblings, "I mean…everybody knows what happened. I don't want them to desecrate it," she said, knowing of the effort her brother had put into it.

"I don't think they will Liz," the man spoke, "In the end he was still our brother."

"He may have done some bad things, but deep down we still loved him because he was our own flesh and blood," the older woman replied.

Elizabeth Cavanaugh rose to her feet and stared silently towards her older siblings Jason and Rachel, both of whom shared their father's resemblance with their jet black hair and blue eyes, while she took after their mother with her dark brown hair and light green eyes.

The cross had been Jason's idea and he had gone over to their uncle's woodshed and built it upon hearing the news of their brother's passing. They had learned through eyewitness accounts related to them by local authorities that he had been present in Raccoon City, Minnesota and had perished at the hands of some 'crazy people' who had overrun the city. Given the circumstances there would be no body for them to bury, yet they still wanted to honor his memory.

"Jake, it's been a long time," his younger brother spoke as if he were there with them, "We know you didn't make the best decisions and that some people may never find it in their hearts to forgive you, but we do and I'm sure Mom and Ryan both would too," he spoke wisely choosing not to mention their father, knowing of his brother's sullied opinion of him. "We just hope wherever you are, you are all reunited and resting in peace. Take care big brother."

The three surviving Cavanaugh siblings turned and made their way towards the cemetery's ancient gates.

"I wish they were still here," Rachel said looking mournfully ahead.

"We all do Rach," Jason solemnly replied, "Believe me; I'd give anything to have Ryan, Rose and Jake all sitting with us at the table on Thanksgiving…just like it always was over to Grandpa and Grandma's."

"Poor Rose," Rachel muttered looking down to the engagement ring on her finger, saddened in knowing her brothers would never get to meet their future brother-in-law and knowing her older sister probably wouldn't be able to comprehend the good news.

"We should go see her while you're still in town," Elizabeth said looking over to her brother, "It's been far too long."

"You think she'll even recognize us? You know how she's been since…well…what happened that night," the lone Cavanaugh brother asked, but stopped himself when he saw the pained reactions of his sisters.

"We should still do it," Rachel spoke as they drew closer to the gates.

"Yeah, we'd better stop by Tranquil Flats first, before their visiting hours are up. It's been a while since we've seen Grandma Atchison," Liz suggested, referring to their maternal grandmother.

"Yeah, let her know she's got a great-grandson on the way," Jason said trying to lighten the mood, having just recently found out his fiancée is expecting their first child. Deep down it was probably a hopeless endeavor given their grandmother's mind has been claimed by the ravages of Alzheimer's.

The shrill of the ancient gates pierced the inhuman silence as the trio made their way outside, it was then a lone figure stepped out from behind a tree not far from the Cavanaugh family plot.

Jake Cavanaugh stepped into the open and watched from the distance as his siblings exited the graveyard, a forlorn stare as he watched them move on with their lives blissfully unaware of his survival. As much as he wanted to approach them and let them know their big brother was still alive, he had to remain in the shadows knowing his presence in their lives would only endanger them.

_"As long as they think I'm dead they will continue to live," _he thought gloomily.

Sighing deeply he approached the site where his family members slept for eternity. Today would have been his mother's birthday and he noticed how his siblings each left a bouquet of flowers as gifts. Reaching into his overcoat he produced his own bouquet of white roses and laid them gently before her gravestone.

"Happy birthday Mom," he nodded with a brief smile, "I know it's been a long time, but I came home one last time just like I promised I would."

The joy felt from his brief 'reunion' suddenly darkened as his gaze met that of his hated father's tombstone. No matter how much he promised himself he would avoid looking at it, the urge was irresistible and his head turned as if guided by an invisible pair of hands gripping him.

"You bastard…" the hitman hissed remembering all of the drunken rages, the beatings, the verbal abuse, the tears of his mother and sisters, all coming back to him like a hook to the face. His mind suddenly flashed back to that dark, stormy night when he came home to find his father standing over his mother's corpse after killing her in a fit of rage. Within another flash Steven Cavanaugh lay dead on the kitchen floor, murdered by his own son.

Jake's teeth gritted and his fists clenched as he fought the urge to smash the tombstone into pieces with his own bare hands. He found it a strike against the memory of his beloved mother that she should have to rest next to the abusive bastard for all eternity, one she had admitted to not loving.

Yet at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Great warmth had washed over him, the kind of soothing presence he never expected to feel within the presence of his father.

"But how?" he quietly asked himself looking back to his mother's tombstone.

Could this soothing presence have been his mother within him, holding him back from doing something else he would have regretted? Not wanting to disgrace her memory he tore his eyes away from his father's headstone and looked over to his brother's.

"Hey bro', long time no see," he said with a brief chuckle feeling as if his older brother were standing next to him, about to put him in a noogie like he used to do when he was little. Jake still revered him as a loving brother and stalwart protector who had taken his fair share of punishment just to protect him from their father's tyrannical rampages.

"It's been a while and believe me I still think about you every day and everything you taught me growing up. I hope wherever you are you're off protecting someone else just like you did me. I'll see you on the other side one of these days."

He then gazed upon the crude cross his siblings had erected in his honor. It made him smile knowing they still loved him enough to create their own personal memorial to him. There was a sense of redemption in the fact they still referred to him as a 'beloved brother.'

"I'm sorry I can't stay long, but I have a mission to complete and if I ever do come back it will be a long time from now. I will make you proud of me."

Having visited his mother and older brother there was still one very special person he had left to visit and knew it was something he had wanted to do for years, something he needed to do while he was still alive to do so.

Walking up the small hill he followed the very path he had memorized leading to a large tombstone with a young woman's visage emblazoned upon it, his heart hammering the entire way. His strides became faster and more powerful as he approached, having waited six years for this moment.

Reaching the top of the hill he had finally come to the tombstone that bore the name of Ashley Dianne Hawkinson, his beloved Ashley. Overcome by emotions not felt in years he collapsed to his knees before her grave and touched the stone, closing his eyes and feeling as if he were touching her warm skin all over again.

Ever since her death Jake had messed around with his share of other women, but still she was the only one he never forgot, the only woman who had an undying place in his heart, the only woman he had truly ever loved.

Opening his eyes he stared deeply into her portrait engraved upon the stone surface.

"_God she was so beautiful," _he thought as he pulled out a locket Ashley's mother had given to him at her funeral and opened it, displaying the final picture of her ever taken. Breathing in deeply he held the locket against his beating heart. His mind was taken back to the day they first met when she visited him in the hospital. What he wouldn't have given to relive that day over again. More importantly, what he wouldn't have done to go back and save her from her father's wrath, then maybe she would still be alive today.

Jake found himself struggling to control his emotions. More so, he struggled to find the strength to speak.

"Hey Ashley…" he muttered staring directly into her engraved portrait, "I know it's been a long time…" he said trying to muster a laugh, but couldn't. His eyes squeezed shut and his breathing hastened before he finally stopped to collect himself. _"C'mon Jake, you have to focus. This is something you wanted," _he told himself.

It was harder than expected, but it needed to be done so he could be at peace. Taking a couple of deep breaths he continued where he left off.

"I know I haven't been around to see you in a long time. I've been gone way too long. I've had to stay away from here," Jake stopped himself, suddenly feeling shame for his past actions, illegal acts he know his girlfriend wouldn't have approved of.

Once again he was left to wonder if things could have been different had she still been alive today. It angered and saddened him that she couldn't have just come to him instead of taking the easy way out and leaving him all alone in the world. From the grief he witnessed with the passing of Milo and Chris he knew losing a child was an unbearable pain no parent should ever have to endure and he knew that had Ashley lived she too would have had to suffer the same emotional distress.

"_But I would have been there for her," _Jake told himself, _"I would have been there whenever she needed me and I would have gotten her through that ordeal. We wouldn't have been able to replace a child, but we would have still had each other and maybe could have started over with a new family. Yes, that's what my vision meant! We would have had a family together and had a happy, peaceful existence."_

It was a bitter pill to swallow. He was robbed of a life away from the bloodshed which had come to define him. He should have felt angry at her for abandoning him the way she did.

But he couldn't.

Ashley Hawkinson was the first person he was able to truly open his heart to, the one who could truly make him feel like a human being rather than some cold, emotionless shell.

"I know these past few years have been a very tumultuous time for me," he started, working again to summon his strength to speak, "I've done some things you wouldn't have approved of, things that have left me questioning if we'll ever be together again when my time comes. I'll probably be sent to the fires of Hell while you'll be up in the Heavens forced to look down upon me for all eternity. If God can't forgive me, I hope you will find it in your heart to. Whatever happens, I won't let it stop me from coming to visit you one last time."

Reaching into his coat again he produced another bouquet of flowers, roses of the reddest hue he could find, similar to those Ashley had given him when they first met. He gently laid them in front of her headstone and then proceeded to lovingly stroke the stone, like he had once stroked her long silken brunette hair.

"I'm going to be gone for a long time," he continued, "I have a long mission ahead of me, one of personal redemption. It's going to be a long time before I come back to visit you again, if I do come back at all."

Again Jake stopped himself, "What am I saying? I will be back," he said with determination, "I'll come back for you if it's the last thing I do. I'm going to help bring down Umbrella and when I do I'll come back to visit you again. I promise."

Slowly rising back to his feet the young man's gaze never left his deceased lover's stone. He never wanted to leave her side now that he was finally reunited with her. Now that he had found the strength to speak he had so much more to tell her, but wouldn't have the time to. Instead he could only look up towards the heavens and once again ponder if his beloved was watching over him. Would he even be allowed to ascend the stairway to Heaven to be with her again?

Only time would tell as he looked downward one final time to the gravesite of his beloved girlfriend, just as a solitary raindrop struck his shoulder.

"Goodbye Ashley. I love you and I promise I will be back for you one day."

Jake slowly turned around and started down the trail towards the cemetery gates. He didn't want to leave, but he had to. It took all the strength he had to walk away, yet there was gentle warmth that left him feeling at peace, so serene he almost couldn't feel the solitary raindrop becoming more, nor the solitary tear trickling down his cheek.

"_Thank you for being in my life Ashley Dianne Hawkinson. Thank you for showing me I could be loved when I thought no one else did. You made me feel human, a most wonderful feeling I thought I wasn't capable of experiencing. Wherever you are, please wait for me when my time comes."_

Pushing the gates open Jake spotted the black sedan that had been his ride, the rainfall increasing in volume. The car started up once the driver spotted him and the headlights were switched on. Taking one final look over his shoulder towards the cemetery he then made his way over to the car, opened the rear driver's side door and climbed in.

"I hope you got to say your final goodbyes," Jill Valentine spoke as he buckled up next to her, an empathetic look in her eyes as she reached over and gently patted his hand.

"I did and I appreciate you allowing me to stop here," Jake replied rubbing his eye.

"It was the most we could do for you," she said looking forward where Carlos Oliveira sat in the front passenger seat and Carrie Scalia was in the driver's seat.

"What time is it now?" Jake asked while leaning back to stretch his arms.

"It's almost 5 o'clock. We've got a little over an hour before our flight takes off," Scalia replied glancing down to her wristwatch, "Shall we?"

"Let's," Jill answered.

With a nod the former Secret Service agent started up the car.

Jake sat quietly in the back thankful his companions had honored his request in allowing him to stop by Somerset so he could visit his loved ones. It had been a risky move on his behalf, but in the end it proved to be worth it.

Now he could move on with his life and focus on the looming war with Umbrella, one they were determined to win.

"_I sure hope this Redfield guy knows what he's doing," _the hitman thought to himself as they passed the sign saying _'You are now leaving beautiful Somerset. Please come back soon.'_

**THE END**

Author's Note: _Well what can I say? This is it. "Darkness Arises: Reborn" has FINALLY been completed and it took me only a little over 5 years to do it! It only seems like yesterday I was just rewriting the prologue._

_When I got towards the end of writing the original story I started thinking to myself that maybe I could really do better than what I was and I had come to the conclusion that I NEEDED to rewrite my story, yet at the same time I was so far along on the original that I didn't want to just cut and run right then and there, so I soldiered forth and completely the original and almost right away I got down to business on the rewrite._

_I knew for sure that I wanted this to be better than the original. Did I think it would be longer like it turned out to be? No, but in the end I'm happy it did._

_I can seriously say that I am much happier with the way the rewrite turned out and I was always happy to hear what my readers had to say. If they gave me constructive criticism I would always take it into consideration for the sake of making my next chapter better than the last._

_I would like to sincerely thank all of you my readers and reviewers, past and present, for your support and encouragement. You stuck by my side through thick and thin and it's because of you this fic got to be as big as it did and you all have my infinite gratitude for helping me out the way you did._

_I wanted to take the time to make a few shout outs:_

_Crow T R0bot – You have my special thanks for being my loyal beta reader for this fic. Thank you for sticking by my side throughout this journey._

_Jammer69er – You've been one of my most loyal reviewers throughout this fic and I thank you for your suggestions and input. To all the other readers on here, READ HIS STORIES DAMN IT! He's a talented author, yet his stories still don't have many reviews to them and I find that highly criminal. C'mon people, I'm not the only badass RE author out here, support this guy too!_

_Hyperactive Hamster of Doom – I honestly don't believe you dropped any reviews for this fic, but I still thank you for all the support and friendship you've given me over the years. Your encouragement helped out a lot and you also provided great assistance in acting as a soundboard for new ideas and what not. Check out her fics too, she is another badass RE author!_

_Terry – My bro, I don't believe you dropped any reviews for this story either, but it was reading your stories that helped inspired me to take up writing on this site in the first place and it goes all the way back to "Three Days in a Nightmare" when I finally got the proverbial kick in the ass needed to help me start up my own fic. Check his stories out too people, he's a badass author!_

_Now that I've given my fair share of personal shout outs I want to give a very special thank you to those who have read and reviewed my story. You know who you are and you all deserve to pat yourselves on the back for a job well done._

_Once again it's been a hell of a ride, but as the saying goes all good things must eventually come to an end, but in the end I managed to get this story completed and in the process managed to entertain an entire score of hardcore Resident Evil fanatics._

_Thank you all and I hope you will continue to follow me in all of my future works. Until then, I wish you all the best of luck with your stories and future endeavors in general. Keep on updating and keep Resident Evil (and badass fan fiction in general) alive!_

_For one final time this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/_


	62. Afterward: Dancing With Devils

Afterward: Dancing With Devils

**Location Unknown**

They were gone, both of them.

Gently running his fingertips over the photograph's glass surface, it almost felt to him like he was feeling the warmth of his beloved family all over again.

_"Annelise…Emilie…"_

There in the photo they stood smiling back at him, his beautiful wife and daughter, standing in their backyard on a nice sunny day. They both looked as if there were no cares in the world at all, arms wrapped tightly around each other like they never wanted to let one another go.

_"I never wanted to let you go either…either of you."_

He didn't want to let them go, he was forced to let them go. They had been taken from him too soon and he wanted them back.

_"Annelise, my beautiful wife…Emilie, my darling sunshine, my little princess…I'm so sorry, so sorry."_

Setting the picture down onto his desk, he buried his face into his hands and felt the emotion overcoming him. Feeling the impulses racing throughout his mind he wanted to cry, to sob uncontrollably, but for some reason he couldn't. Invisible, unfeeling tears escaped his eyes and the tremors he should have felt never came. Perhaps the iron will that had kept him so cool and collected for so many years had prevented him from doing so.

At least he thought he had an iron will until he looked up and saw the unmistakable symbol plastered on the otherwise utilitarian white wall before him.

It was a red and white logo known all over the world, the symbol representing the very company that had enslaved him for twenty long years. It called out to him, mocking him, reminding him of the cruel fate that had befallen both him and his family.

And then the wave of rage overcame him.

With an animalistic roar, he grabbed an empty bottle of whiskey on his desk and hurled it across the room. The shatter of glass permeated the silence of the desolate laboratory and his desperate cry traveled beyond the wall of safety glass.

_"They took them away from me. This is their entire fault," _the voice in his head reminded as he collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily and coughing harshly as his lungs began to ache.

_"I gave those bastards twenty years of my life. Everything I ever did for them, all my sacrifices and effort I put in for them and this is how they repay me!"_

Rage consumed him so intensely he was rooted to where he knelt, quivering uncontrollably. Sadness or traces of any other human emotions had slowly drained from his system. Now he was overcome by the urge to kill and with it, he looked back to the symbol on the wall before him.

_"They killed them. They are responsible for everything that has happened to me. Because of their greed my wife and child are dead!"_

Bracing himself against his desk he managed to pull himself back into his leather swivel chair and relax a little. Slowing his breathing to a steadier pace he looked over to a small vanity mirror sitting next to his computer monitor.

Upon viewing his reflection for the first time in what seemed like forever, he almost wished he hadn't. He hadn't had the chance to maintain his appearance, creating the image of a crazy person. To put it bluntly, he looked like hell. Normally well-combed short black hair hung in a frizzled mess and with it his once clean-shaven face had disappeared beneath five day stubble that was nearly a full beard now. What had once been crystal blue eyes were now bloodshot and the bags underneath made him look like he had just been beaten up.

_"Oh God when was the last time I slept? Last night? Two nights ago, or even an entire week? Damn it! I don't even remember the last time I even got a decent night's rest! Hell, I don't even know what the date is!"_

Staring at himself in the mirror for a little while longer, he finally broke away and looked closely around the dimly-lit room for anything out of the ordinary, wanting to be ready in case they sent any of their boys after him.

_"Get a hold of yourself," _he told himself, _"You're still alive. Within due time, you will have your revenge."_

The thought of being able to exact revenge was the only thing keeping him from putting a gun to his head and ending it all. The murderers of his wife and child had to be brought to justice, his own dark brand.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a key ring and shifted through several of the brass keys until he found a small key with a circular end. Looking down to his desk he inserted the key into the slot of his middle drawer and turned it sideways to be rewarded with an audible click. Brushing some papers and notebooks aside, he dug deeper and deeper until his hand grasped something metallic and he pulled into the open a Browning Hi-Power nine-millimeter semi-automatic handgun.

Grasping the newly cleaned handgun tightly, he lifted it into the air and admired it before going into the classic shooter's stance. Right now he could just picture Old Man Spencer standing right before him, a look of horror etched across his face before he fired the lethal round right between his eyes.

_"Damn you Spencer and damn anybody else who has been associated with this wretched company!" _he told himself, forever cursing the jackals who had stolen everything from him.

Up until a few weeks ago he had been a loyal, unquestioning employee, plucked straight out of the university and immediately put to work on several top projects related to the study of both natural and manmade diseases, dedicated to both creating vaccines and creating the viruses themselves. Their purposes he never inquired about, playing the role of the obedient worker to a hilt.

_"All of that hard work those twenty long years and I never once asked what those viruses were for…God, who knows how many other lives this company has ruined."_

Thinking of his younger years with the company brought his focus back to the picture of his beloved wife and daughter. A brief smile crept over his face as he thought of when he first met his future wife, then a fresh college graduate looking to make her mark in the world of virology.

_"Annelise…"_

As much as he had hated to admit it, it was because of the company that he met his future wife, and indirectly through them he was also given his daughter. Sure, they had also given him many other small superficial things as well, like the fancy two-story house he had in one of the nicer parts of town, the fancy new car in his driveway, a yearly salary that topped one-hundred grand, stuff that had seemed like enough to shut any good worker up and not make them think of what went on around them. Now when he looked back upon it though, the latter items were nothing but mere childish toys, the kind of rewards a parent would promise to make their rambunctious child mind themselves.

_"What a god awful waste! I buried my head in the sand for all of that worthless crap and allowed my family to be exposed to this danger, and I was too stupid to recognize it."_

As a senior researcher in the branch's virology department, he had succeeded in developing a new kind of virus after a decade's worth of hard work. He had not yet had the opportunity to test it on any live subjects, but whenever he stared into its orange glow he got the feeling as if it would make its 'brothers' look miniscule.

He had labored in secret to craft it to perfection, sacrificing the free time he could have spent with his family or pursuing other leisurely activities just so he could iron out all the kinks that could have spoiled its progress. Due to its sensitive nature, he had been forced to act with added caution around his co-workers, knowing they would have spilled the beans at the drop of a hat to the board of directors.

_"I couldn't let them know what I was doing. Those two-faced bastards would have wanted all the credit for themselves."_

The researcher's mind trailed off as he thought of former co-workers who he would see one day, only to have them mysteriously vanish the next. Being in a position of seniority, he had known how the company's pecking order worked. They were as ruthless as could be; viewing their underlings as expendable tools whom they would discard once their use had run out. Not only that, they did not take kindly to 'mavericks' in their conformity-driven structure, adding to the necessity of his secrecy.

_"Yet somehow they found out about it, my life's work…my masterpiece…somebody had found out and betrayed me!"_

Around the beginning of last month he had found a note at his workstation delivered by an anonymous sender, informing him they knew of the existence of his new project and that he had better be prepared to hand it over or face 'serious ramifications.'

Initially he had dismissed it as some random prank, but then he began receiving threatening e-mails from unknown senders and had even found a stray dog beaten to death on his front doorstep with a note nailed to its side telling him that this would be his fate if he didn't cooperate.

That was the straw that had broken the camel's back, prompting him to go out and buy the very gun that now rested on the desk in front of him.

_"It was like being trapped in some bad spy movie. I had to be looking over my shoulder all waking hours. I couldn't trust anybody, not even the mailman. I had to spend all of my time either locked away in my house or in my lab or else somebody was going to kill me or worse, my family."_

Then that fateful day came, a day that played through his tortured mind like some very demented highlight reel.

It was two weeks ago Annelise brought Emilie to one of the company's more public laboratories (one where the less dangerous experiments were performed) so she could get an up close view of the kind of work her parents had done. Naturally the two of them had no idea the kind of danger they were in because he had gone to great lengths to conceal the threats being directed at him, not wanting them to live in fear as he had.

In the end it had proven to be the greatest mistake he had ever made.

_"Annelise brought Emilie to work, wanting to help stimulate the interest she was beginning to develop in science. God why couldn't she have just been into the things other girls her age were into?"_

An experiment was being conducted involving some kind of new surgical laser when one of the generators began to overheat and then exploded, causing a chain reaction that killed everybody in the lab where it was conducted. It had been a major black eye to the company and already they were in the process of dealing with several wrongful death lawsuits from the deceased employees' loved ones. Coupled with the fallout from the recent incident involving Raccoon City, the higher ups were tense and quicker to lash out at anybody voicing reservations against their agenda, thus he knew his efforts would be fruitless.

_"Those ignorant bastards, they kept saying it was an accident, but I know better. White Umbrella itself was behind that accident! They sabotaged that experiment to get back at me for refusing to turn over my work! It's because of those greedy bastards I lost what meant the world to me!"_

Indeed his closest friends and co-workers had tried to convince the broken man that it had been an accident and that it was no use for him to go around defaming the entire company, but his mind refused to tell him otherwise.

_"Of course they're not going to believe me; Umbrella practically owns this entire fucking city, just like wherever else they set up shop. Christ, I can't think of a single family here that doesn't have at least one of its members employed by this accursed establishment. They control everything, including the police and the government!"_

The sudden whoosh of hydraulics brought the researcher out of his frenzied reverie. He didn't need to turn around to know who would be visiting him at this time of night.

"You're back earlier than I expected," the researcher called out to his guest.

"Heh, whatever Metzger," the nameless fellow snapped, "I got what you wanted. Now why don't you live up to your end of the deal and fucking pay me already?"

Johannes Metzger turned to face his associate, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

"You remember the terms of our arrangement dear friend," the researcher started, his tone turning haughty, "You're not going to be paid in full until you give me everything that I want."

"Cut the bullshit already. You told me specifically what you wanted and I went and got it for you! Do you have any idea what kind of shit I had to go through to acquire your precious 'cargo?'" his guest snapped, shaking his head angrily and swatting a large stack of books to the floor.

"My, you never struck me as being much of a whiner –" the researcher started, only to be cut off by a high caliber revolver being pointed at his face.

"Now are we gonna have to do this the hard way, Doc? I ran your little errand for you, now are you going to live up to your end, or do I have to paint the fucking walls with your brains?"

Dr. Metzger took a few deep breaths and composed himself before replying, "Very well, but first I need to see the specimen for myself."

"Fine, lead the way," the brutish man said holstering his gun.

Dr. Metzger nodded and walked past his associate, making his way into the hall and over to a nearby elevator. Pulling out his ID badge he swiped it through a card reader and typed in the five digit entry code before the doors opened. Making their way inside he pushed a few buttons and the elevator made its descent.

It took only a few seconds before a loud ding resounded and the doors opened to the sub-basement level where the holding cells were kept. The two rifle-toting guards nodded to the researcher and his associate and allowed them to pass.

"Right this way," he said passing the Umbrella researcher and leading him down a corridor lined with reinforced steel doors.

They came to a halt in front of a door near the end and as his associate stepped aside, allowing Dr. Metzger to pull the slide aside and peer in through the observation porthole.

A figure huddled in a corner of the tiny cell hugging her knees against her chest, clad in a soiled white hospital gown with her long black hair obscuring her face.

"All that extra cash you had to pony up for that flight paid off, Doc. She's all yours," his hired hand smirked.

Dr. Metzger however was not impressed, noting the woman's catatonic state.

"This is the woman you spoke of?" he asked, his disbelief evident, "Just what does she have that could interest me? Look at her!" he said motioning towards her.

He got only a furrowed brow in response.

"She's important to someone I hate. That good enough for you?" his colleague asked rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Dr. Metzger narrowed his own eyes in reply.

"When I agreed to work with you, you promised you would assist me in endeavors aimed at furthering my research. I didn't intend as you using this as an excuse to grind your axe with the fellow who wronged you," the researcher snapped.

Again he got a harsh laugh in response.

"Are you even listening to yourself talk, Doc? You wanted my help because you have your own axe to grind!" the other man shot back, "I agreed to help you out because I thought you could relate to my own ordeal, but instead you've turned out to be nothing but a bitch. I've busted my back trying to help you out. Fuck, do you have any idea what I had to go through to get this woman? I had to fucking black out an entire fucking mental hospital just to get at her! Fucking hell, do you have any idea what I had to go through to get those other people you wanted me to get?"

Dr. Metzger remained defiant. Was it his iron will? Was it the rage? Whatever it was, he stood unyielding and a smile crossed his own features.

"And after what I did for you the only one sounding like a 'bitch' is yourself," the researcher half-laughed, "I saw firsthand what happened to you. I did what I did out of the goodness of my heart. You sometimes seem to forget that I could easily undo everything in the snap of my fingers."

There was only silence this time.

"God I fucking hate you sometimes…" the other man hissed, balling his fists so tight his wrists trembled.

"The feelings are mutual," the researcher replied.

"Heh, just remember once I get my revenge, we are through! You hear me, we are through!"

"I would expect no less from you, Mr. –"

Before the doctor could continue he was cut off by a muffled voice from within the cell.

"He killed them," the woman muttered.

Dr. Metzger peered through the porthole to see the woman beginning to slowly rock herself back and forth.

"He killed them," she repeated, "He…killed them," her tone rising this time.

The woman repeated the same phrase over and over again, her tone rising with each utterance and with it her rocking becoming more and more violent until she was striking her head against the wall behind her.

"He killed them…he killed them…he killed them…he killed them! He killed them! HE KILLED THEM!"

The woman's screams were silenced as Dr. Metzger pulled the slide backwards, the screams now becoming unintelligible.

"Like I said Metzger, once we both get what we want, we're through!" his colleague said before storming off towards the cell block's entrance and disappearing from sight.

Dr. Metzger looked on in cool indifference.

Following his ordeals it had been easy to convince that fellow to help him out and so far he had performed his assigned duties to fruition. Deep down he knew the man was nothing more than a pawn, no different from the way Umbrella had used him all these years, and judging by the way he carried himself he knew it too, yet for some unknown reason he continued to associate himself with the researcher.

It was a trivial matter to ponder, as the doctor had bigger fish to fry.

He had his own vengeance to carry out and he was determined to do so by any means necessary. The angry spirits of his family demanded it.

_"Far too long everybody has turned a blind eye to the real doings of Umbrella. They ignored what they did to me, me, after everything I did for them!"_

His personal crusade would have its struggles along the way that much he knew, as history had dictated. However, he was getting a good feeling in the beginning, having already come into contact with some sympathizers outside the company and having acquired himself a powerful ally, one who had already helped him capture some targets wanted by the company, something he knew he could hold over Spencer's head and taunt him with.

This was something he _needed_ to do.

The lone researcher made his way out of the cell block and back to the elevator, taking it to a level below the sub-basement, one only he had known about.

An electronic ding resounded and the researcher stepped out into an ancient cavern lit by modern emergency lights, which had also served well in keeping the bats at bay, their screeching heard in the distance. Aside from the flying rodents the only other sounds were the trickling of a nearby stream and the soft hum of the lights, a quiet that would have left most people unnerved, but the researcher liked it knowing it would deter the others from venturing down here.

Knowing he was alone he made his way down a winding earthen path that eventually took him across a rope bridge and to a locked gate for which he possessed the only known key, sliding it into the padlock and making his way through.

What awaited him was a small clearing where two caskets lay; each of them bearing a coat of arms that had gone back to medieval German times.

At last he was alone with his family.

Walking over to the casket carrying his beloved Annelise he lifted the lid and peered inside. He stared quietly towards her peaceful form before speaking.

"Soon my beloved…soon you we will be together again, you and our precious little Emilie. We will be together again if it is the last thing I do," and it was then he reached into the casket and took her charred hand into his own, "I promise you my love," he whispered before kneeling down to kiss its withering surface.

Author's Note: Did you really think this story ended with the Epilogue? Ha ha! Well I've got news for you all, I LIED!

This is intended to be my extra scene that would follow a movie's credits, much like Marvel does with its "Avengers" movies, a segue of more things to come.

This scene was recycled from an RE fic I had planned out a few years back, but never came to fruition. I thought it was too cool of an idea to just let go to waste, so here I managed to work it into the current continuity.

What will become of this? Tune in to find out!

This is Metal Harbinger saying for the final time in this fic (and yes I promise you this is truly the FINAL time) SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


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